Chapter 64: First Contact
****
Muggy, tired, and pissed off.
Commander Elroy Danse of the Church of Destina, a man in his mid thirties, a career soldier who stood at six feet with sharp blue eyes that stared out at the crumbling relic in the distance with a scowl.
“CONTACT NORTHEAST!” The observer yelled, a soldier atop a hastily crafted watch tower signaling to the hundreds of men and women underneath the purification dome.
Danse cast his eyes on the north, watching the hordes of monsters racing from the castle and surrounding tree line to charge through the blighted swamps and purple canopies.
Goblins, gnolls, winglings, centaurs, pixies, dire wolves, and even a massive blighted griffin. Monsters, some that would have once been majestic in their past, now creatures that were beset by the taint of chaos.
“ARCHERS AT THE READY!” Danse barked, dozens of bowmen lining up behind the frontline of armored knights and their shields against the tide of monstrosities. “FIRE!”
Arrows flew, monsters screamed, the stream of black rain impaling a multitude of the corrupted hellspawn flooding out of the castle.
“Armor!” Danse yelled, the frontline of mercenaries locking shields as his spellcasters unleashed a torrent of magical energy towards the tide of evil.
Lighting storm, fireball, ice hail, holy judgment. A cornucopia of area of effect magic that would be unusable within the dungeon.
The battlefield erupted in rainbow-like chaos, the monstrous survivors rushing through the burning trees in a frenzy despite their injuries with a pack of dire wolves avoiding the magical hellstorm and closing the distance.
“Prepare for melee!” Danse yelled, drawing his golden carved blade lined with a black edge.
Muramasa, nicknamed the Devil’s Katana.
A legendary weapon taken from the hands of a Hero Clansman. A priceless treasure. One that withstood the bombardment of a hundred spells.
Fortunately for Danse, the same couldn't be said about the black-haired green eyed woman who once wielded the weapon, allowing him to take it.
“Tch. Damn Hero Clan, even wiped out, they're still a pain in my ass.” Danse muttered with annoyance before gripping the sword by its golden hilt in both hands.
The entire reason he was here was thanks to Lhikan and that goodie-too-shoes Hero Clan rejectee. In fact, most of his life had been dealing with and cleaning up the dissidents of the Church that remained. Chasing false leads, hunting ancestry's, it was all part of the job. But now that the last of them was gone, it should have been smooth sailing for the paladin.
Wrong.
Even in death they were ruining his vacation!
The paladin narrowed his blue eyes, transfixed on the oncoming tide, his blade glowing red, sprouting vines that dug into his skin and began to leak crimson droplets.
“Rivers of Blood.” Danse spat, the skill attached to the blade activating as he swiped the weapon over his head, unleashing a torrent of crimson liquid.
The dire wolves raced forward, leaping over the wave of blood, clearing it fully before hitting the ground dead. Despite avoiding the attack, the blighted wolves were caught in the Muramasa’s unique effect, causing the monsters to bleed from every orifice.
“Go! Get in there!” Danse ordered, his armored mercenaries moving to engage as he sheathed his crimson coated blade.
“Sir.” Danse's adjutant said, a brunette woman of the cloth carrying a large hammer wrapped in scripture.
“What, Donut?” Danse said, eyeing the Judicator who was pretty in the face but lacking elsewhere.
Shame you're built like a washboard.
“Sir?”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Hm?” Danse replied, his eyes shifting from the flat chest to meet the woman's eyes.
“The artificers have finished setting up the purifiers and de-blighters and Lady Berus has finished subduing the chimera and is on the way.”
“Good.” Danse replied, taking off his air filter and walking towards the caravan of horses and carriages behind him. “Have the rest of the executioners clean up the riff raff here and get the men to deploy the tents and palisades.”
“Yes, understood sir.” The woman said. “Shall I alot time for rest and recovery?”
“No, after the tents are set up, I want delvers going in there immediately. The less time I have to spend under this purple smog the better. I'm tired of field rations.” Danse replied, grumbling to himself as he walked through a crowd of servants awaiting him outside his lavish carriage that stood out from the rest of the convoy thanks to its fine gold fixtures and expertly crafted wood.
“Right away sir.” Donut bowed, the woman racing off.
Danse clenched his jaw, boarding his cart with boots caked with mud. Upon sitting within the velvet interior, he propped his boots up on a table that a young scribe boy immediately began cleaning.
I didn't rise through the ranks to trudge through this damn mud!
“Your lunch sir,” A butler said, placing a platter on Danse's dinning table. “Steak and grains with sunny side up eggs served alongside oven baked asparagus.”
Danse grunted at the plate laid before him.
“Damn near criminal to serve this to anyone.” Danse said, taking the silver cutlery into his hands as the butler poured a glass of wine.
“Shall I have the chefs flogged sir?” The butler asked, causing the paladin to sigh.
“No Jameson, for what kind of soldier would I be if I couldn't stomache this slop. Dismissed.”
“Very well sir,” Jameson said, bowing and taking his leave. “Please enjoy your meal.”
Danse grunted, turning to his meal as he eyed the crystal mirror that hung in front of him.
“Show me, O’mirror. The thing I so desire.” Danse said, clapping his hands to activate the magical item.
The crystal mirror began to glow with white light, it's shards rearranging itself before displaying the same thing it always displayed.
A rubber duck.
“Tch. Damn mirror. I fail to see how a toy duck of all things is going to get me promoted.” Danse grumbled, swiping at the air and resetting the mirror.
“Show me, O’mirror, the Hot springs of the Garnia Woman's Bathhouse. First floor, from the angle of the hot spring entrance towards the spring water.” Danse said, being as specific as possible to get the results he wanted.
The crystal mirror shifted once more, this time displaying the steamy image of half a dozen naked women lounging in the pool water.
“Ah, now this is a sight I can eat to.” Danse said, digging into his meal as he undid his pants.
****
Humans.
Crap.
They really weren't supposed to be here yet and yet here they were, a day sooner than expected
From my knowledge, I was in the throne room, the middle most part of the demon lord's castle. Having traversed the land, I had a better understanding of how long it would take until they reached my domain.
A month? Maybe two if I were lucky. A week at worst if they charged through, sacrificing one another.
A bunch of zealots courting death, but who was I to ignore their fervant desire to die?
A bad host! That's what. And of the many things I am, I am not a bad host.
“AHWHOOOOOOOOOO!!”
The sound of a war horn played again, an agitation method used to announce an army's arrival or, in the case where ones foes were monsters, used to draw them out.
And it was working.
I could feel the shift in my surroundings, the denizens of the aged castle responding to the challenge. Even my bones wanted to take off, to answer the call. Some odd deep seated part of Hector urging the skeleton to go and slay humans.
Now now. Nows not the time Hector.
Soon, I promise.
It was time to retreat. More preparations to be done. Meals to be prepped, composting to be done, and an escape to be had.
But… I still had a few minutes until then. Two minutes left before I was back in my rubber shell
I paused, eyeing my surroundings. The scene of my last battle as a human.
Somehow I found myself in the center of the room, light reflecting from a window onto my skull.
I scanned the ruined room filled with cracked pillars, rotted rugs, dust, and deformed masonry. A far cry from the once lavishly ornate throne room.
Glancing at the throne itself, I found myself walking to the metal chair.
Orichulum.
Even through the passage of time, the throne itself was still intact thanks to the material it was made out of.
I took a seat, my pelvic bone touching against the metal as my surroundings shifted, rewinding back to the last time I was here.
Beautiful tapestrys, stately pillars. Ornate red rugs and rows of treasures hanging from the walls.
Clashing filled my mind, sounds of battle. War. A faint echo of my own voice shouting orders as demonic laughter sounded out.
Chloe casting fireball, the scorch left behind still streaking the nearby wall.
Hector, original Hector going flying through a pillar, that same beam still broken in half.
And… Lyndis… her arrows still stuck in the wall beside the throne.
And finally me. I could see the scene of Barborall standing over me, a smile on his face as he stood over me gloating.
Rage. It echoed out. My scream promising his death.
The remainder of my time was spent on that throne. Staring at nothing but my memories. Sitting there with my hands clutching the arm wrists of the throne until my consciousness returned to my yellow rubber frame.