V2 Chapter 7 - Whispers of Desperation
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IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY, IT IS NOT THE ABSENCE OF FEAR THAT UNITES US, BUT OUR SHARED RESOLVE TO CONFRONT IT TOGETHER.
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A familiar group of nobles made their way through the echoing stone halls of the castle, their footsteps muted against the plush crimson carpets beneath. Though each face was familiar to the other, there was an unmistakable strain shared between them. Summoned to the grand chamber by royal decree, their minds lingered on the creeping unease that continued to plague them all—repeated sightings of the parasites. The insects, once thought to have been dealt with, had returned, gnawing at their anxious thoughts.
They shuffle into the stuffy room one by one, finding their seats in silence. What news does the King bear? Was the question on the heart of many, sparking conversation before the meeting even began. Only when the heavy wooden doors of the chamber groaned shut did the people fall silent, sealing the air thick with tension.
A long, polished table stretched out before them, its surface gleaming under the light of chandeliers hanging from the decorated ceiling. At the head of the table sat King Wyn, his posture of regality unyielding as his eyes scanned the room.
Further down, seated at a respectful distance, were the Knights along with the Court Mage, and then the nobles headed by Duke Theron. Clothed in rich fabrics of crimson and gold, their anxious motions betrayed their composed exteriors. Some whispered to each other behind their hands, making small talk of rumors. Others sat quietly, their fingers nervously drumming against the table’s edge, aware of the high stakes yet too low in rank to offer their counsel freely.
The King stands, and the entire room rises in response. The pledge is taken, and with a unified grunt, the men and women take their seats in silence. All eyes scan the room, the nobles now focused solely on the head of the table.
“We’ve received reports that the Bandit King has failed.” Ulric’s words cut through the air like a blade, shattering the tense silence of the chamber. A ripple of disbelief followed, quickly giving way to chaos as conversation erupted among the noblemen.
“What are we supposed to do now?” a desperate voice questioned in the back, head in his hands.
“Those were my weapons that they used.” Another stated, face flushed red with anger, fists clenched.
“I knew we couldn’t trust the brigand to finish the job,” someone else sneered, shaking their head in disgust.
“The Kingdom lent him support, and this is the outcome?” A third voice rose above the others, its tone biting with frustration. The old man adjusted his glasses before continuing. “The people will not take this well.”
Whispers and accusations began to fly back and forth, faction pitted against faction as a division amongst the people in charge became clear. It wasn't long before the weight of the situation settled over the chamber like a thick fog.
“Silence.” Godfrey’s voice boomed, the Knight springing up from his seat. His dark complexion shines under the gleam of the chandeliers, casting a sharp contrast against the polished silver of his armor that highlights his presence. The deep blue eyes inspect the hall, his glance enough to put an end to the chaos that was plaguing the room.
“If I may speak,” Duke Theron begins, looking for a nod of approval from the King. “Those were my men that trained and fought alongside the bandits. I believe I represent all of those who were asked to contribute when I say that this effort feels like a waste of our resources and taxes. The parasites have been fairly inactive over the past three months. We should have stuck to our original plans instead of rushing things.”
“The assault was not without fruit.” Ulric interjects, quick to stop the pessimistic atmosphere that is rapidly taking hold of the room. “Our hired hands were able to get a vague mapping of the first few floors while the parasites were occupied. We're able to estimate that their numbers are around ten thousand strong.”
“Ten thousand? That can't be right.”
“What? When did they grow so large?”
“How?”
Discord fills the chamber once again, the latter half of the “uplifting” news crushing any newfound hopes of a swift extermination.
"Yet we never see more than a few hundred outside of the mountain. Clearly they're lying low," a new Knight adds on, his voice deep and steady. Owain sits next to Ulric, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees. Even seated, his presence is hard to ignore—his broad, muscular build filling the space around him. "But lying low or not," he mutters, his deep voice carrying the weight of experience, “I've already trained our soldiers on how to deal with these parasites should they go on the offensive again.”
"Ten thousand of these creatures and all they've done in the passing months is steal sizable amounts of cattle and crops to sustain themselves."
Winnifred sits up in her seat, her red hair cascading over her shoulders as she focuses on the discussion. Seated next to the King, the quiet authority she carries as the Knights' leader is unmistakable. Absent-mindedly, she traces her fingers along the table's edge, her gaze distant as she listens. "I would guess there's something at the top of the mountain they don’t want us to find," she says, her voice calm yet carrying a weight that draws the attention of those around her.
“I believe it is their Queen.” A rather energetic voice interrupts, entering the fray. The court mage stands in haste, adjusting his glasses before he speaks. “From what I've seen, they both operate and look like insects. A colony rather than an unorganized mass if you would.” There's a moment of hesitation, as a glint of something unreadable crosses his face. He quickly smooths his expression, hands fidgeting with the pendant around his neck as he forces a calm, analytical tone. "A colony, yes. Efficient. Structured."
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He lingers just a second too long on the word "Queen," his eyes brightening for a brief flicker before he regains his composure. “A Queen or leader at the head wouldn’t be surprising,” he adds, his voice now steady, all business. The brief shift in his demeanor goes unnoticed by most, his usual air of detached authority returning as he resumes his place in the discussion.
Again, the chamber dips into chaos, whispers going wild as the nobles turn to one another. Godfrey shuffles in his seat, but the King flags him down, opting to listen in on a particular noble at the far end of the table.
“What help does that information pose? Let's say this Queen does exist. The parasites have a leader. Good for them. Of course we should kill it, but the parasites will still be around. The people will never be complacent again until all traces of the parasites are wiped off this island.”
“Baron Florance. Tell me more.” The King orders, the room quieting instantly as all eyes fall on the chubby young man.
“Y..Your Majesty I..”
“Speak.”
“The…The people live in fear. They could care less about what's at the top of Arden. All they know is that Arden is dead, and the parasites lurk everywhere. Entire villages pack up and flee to the safety of a city’s walls at the sight of a single parasite. Hundreds refuse to work the fields outside city walls, let alone live outside where they could be attacked at any moment. The economy is suffering. I’ve even heard rumors of emigration. Simply put, they doubt the kingdom’s ability to protect itself…and so do I.
“Am I to take it that you are unloyal to the kingdom?”
Florance’s voice faltered under the King’s sharp gaze. “Simply put, Your Majesty,” Florance stammered, trying to salvage his statement, “We should focus on strengthening the throne... I mean, our presence in the kingdom. Th..This attack with the Bandit King was clearly a bad call.”
King Wyn, his expression tightening with barely contained frustration, stood abruptly, cutting the baron off. “Enough,” he said coldly. Florance shrank in his seat, realizing he had overstepped.
I can’t waste any more time on their babbling. The silence that followed gave the King a moment to think. The parasites...how do I deal with them without tipping my hand? He clenched his jaw, thoughts racing. The treasury is already bleeding from the last campaign, and aid—if it even arrives—won’t cover the costs of a full-scale assault.
His eyes scanned the room, seeing the unease in the faces of those gathered. They’re already whispering. Rumors of losses are spreading like wildfire. If I act too boldly, they'll see it as desperation. But if I do nothing... He could almost hear the gossip tightening like a noose. They’ll say I’ve lost control.
There was a long pause before the King turned his attention to the rest of the room, demeanor changed entirely. “The situation is dire, and our options are few, but there is hope! We planned for this as a possibility. Our earlier request for overseas aid has garnered the interest of three hundred promising adventurers! Trackers, warriors, assassins, sorcerers, and even psychics- guilds and bands of experienced hunters sail to our aid even as we speak. The new numbers are irrelevant. We have more than enough in our treasury to offer rewards to counter the growing numbers of the colony.”
The nobles exchanged uncertain glances. The Court Mage leaned forward; brow furrowed as he adjusted in his seat. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, offering any more of a reward would drain our coffers completely. It was a viable option some time ago, but the funds spent on the Bandit King’s operation did a number on our finances. The treasury can only support so much.”
“I am aware,” the King replied, his voice steely. “However, we have little choice. The Bandit King has failed. We used up too many resources in an attempt to force a short-term solution. Our own forces are stretched thin protecting the countryside, and we cannot risk further instability.”
Duke Theron’s face hardened. “Spending anymore will cost more than we can afford. The kingdom’s finances—”
“There is a solution!” The King interrupts, pacing slowly. “We are currently set to give them artifacts after completion, but they will no doubt be more willing to accept them as a down payment before they begin. It will cost us nothing and might even encourage them to take on greater risks.”
A murmur of approval spread through the room. The nobles, while still wary, began to see some of the logic in the plan.
“I propose that we approve of those who have currently expressed interest and have them come to the kingdom immediately.” King Wyn said, his voice gaining momentum to erase any remaining doubt the nobles may still have. “The adventurers in the kingdom will do more than fight the parasites. Their presence alone will raise the morale of our people.
“And they’ll be fighting for their own reward,” Duke Theron added, a grin pulling at his lips. “The promise of wealth or power through artifacts would draw the most greedy and skilled among them.”
The King’s eyes narrowed slightly, knowing that this was not just about defeating parasites—it was about keeping the kingdom from falling apart from within. “We’ve already identified two particular adventurers who will lead the charge. Leo Vulcnir, the Runesmith, and Druk, the Earth Mage. Their reputations precede them, and their arrival will surely inspire confidence.”
“Leo Vulcnir,” one noble muttered, eyes wide. “The Runesmith? We’re saved.”
“The Runesmith,” someone whispered, and the rumors began to spread. "They say he forged weapons strong enough to shatter iron armor with a single blow,” someone whispered.
“And Druk,” another added, nodding. “The mage who can move mountains. Quite literally. I’ve heard he stopped a landslide mid-fall and redirected it into an enemy camp.” The room buzzed with awe as the nobles shared more tales of the pair's legendary feats.
If they could rally the adventurers—especially powerful ones like Leo and Druk—there was a chance to turn the tide, to not only defeat the parasites but also restore the kingdom’s fading strength.
King Wyn looked around the table, his voice calm but commanding. “All who accept my proposal?”
A chorus of “Aye” echoed through the chamber; some voices stronger than others. Only the Court Mage remained silent, his brow furrowed in contemplation.
“Very well,” the King said, nodding at the approval. “We will arrange for the adventurers’ arrival immediately. We cannot afford to waste any more time.” He paused, his gaze lingering on his closest advisor. “Henry, your thoughts?”
The court mage hesitated before finally speaking, his tone begrudging. “If this is our best course of action, then so be it. But mark my words, this plan carries its own risks.”
The King nodded, understanding the weight of the decision. “Then it is settled. We proceed as planned. Godfrey, assemble the guards. Ulric, ensure the messengers are dispatched at once.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Godfrey replied, standing to salute.
As the nobles murmured among themselves, the tension in the room lifted slightly, replaced by a more optimistic atmosphere. King Wyn stepped back, surveying his council with a resolute expression.
“Let it be known that we will not falter. We shall fight to reclaim our lands, our people, and our honor. This meeting is adjourned.”