PROLOGUE: AN ARTIST OF STUPIDITY
The wet binding tightened around Maria’s wrists like a real sentient being, a scaly sea serpent of the depth. Its bristle texture dug into her golden skin like puncturing needles, causing her no end of pain but Maria knew it was just her imagination. As Maria tried to hold on to her fractured coolness, her head lightened, soon surrendering to the sway of the scorching haze of high sun. A bead of sweat rolled from her square shaped chin and fell on the baking sand, and soon, another one followed to disappear within the deep valley of her rich bosoms.
How many hours have I been forced to kneel like this under this blazing sun and this scorching beach? How many more hours must I wait? Maria repeatedly asked herself such questions but she had no way of knowing the answer. But, I would endure, Maria told herself. Maria gulped to wet her parched throat. A strand of her long golden lock carried by a sudden gust and came into her view. Her once glossy hair, soft and shiny, prized and as beautiful as beaten gold, now badly burned, disheveled and damaged, but not by the sun, never the sun.
That billowing inferno was still fresh in Maria’s mind, its scalding touch that devoured everything Maria has tried to build for almost a decade, her greatest creation, her fortress, her only safe haven, and treasure. That red blazing inferno was a malevolent brand of fire in her mind. Another scalding wind blew by, this time, carrying with it the occasional painful moans of two thousand men and women who were bounded, gagged, kneeling in the scalding golden sand, accompanying by dozens of hundreds of blue scarves of the Blue Moon Kingdom’s Marine standing next to them, armed with spears and crossbows.
Maria could not care less about them, her subordinates and seadogs they were, badly burned and wounded, in worse shape than her. But, Maria could not care less about them. They were tools, they could always be replaced. However, Maria knew that she would regret losing them. It cost her many years to assemble such a force and many toiling years to train them. But, I can always start again. Maria knew that as long as she survived, she could always rebuild what she has lost today.
Maria was more concerned about that execution platform made from large shipping crates that could easily be found at any trading port. Three flying masts nailed into the golden sand around that execution platform, a gray skull heading a swirling black storm. It was Maria’s flag, her insignia, the symbol of terror in this southern sea once, but no longer.
One day, one day… Maria gritted her teeth. In the middle of the execution platform, a large chopping block and a rusty bucket branded into Maria’s eyes. They struck a malevolent ill omen into Maria’s heart. Slowly, a gripping white vice of fear that Maria had not tasted for over a decade tightened on her neck, but she refused to allow herself to be overwhelmed. Maria understood it was just a grand and elaborated illusion, an illusion conjured to make her weak and commit a mistake.
Everything that has happened, is happening and will happen is just an illusion.
Maria understood that she was made to wait in front of her execution ground for such length to make her realize the power that the other person had over her life. A common tactic, Maria assured herself, the simplest form of mind game, a trick, which Maria employed more than regularly. The mind of a person often works in a strange way. The longer she had to wait, the more fearful that Maria would feel toward her capturer. Never has she been at the receiving end of this mind trick, but Maria understood its design.
This mind trick was designed to exploit the gaps of a person’s mind, to force a person making dumb decisions. That was why Maria was confident of staying alive. If that person wanted to kill Maria, he would have no need to play this mind game. He would not bother displaying his power in front of her in such a tasteless manner. Maria understood that she was made to experience this mind trick so that her capturer could exploit her value with less effort.
As her hazed mind was racing to come up with all the arguments in the world to elevate her values, the sand before Maria erupted in a violent explosion. Maria blinked her eyes, shielding them from the flying sand, only to see that a sofa has just landed from the sky. Regal red cushions with gilded crest rails and arm-tops adorned the sofa, making it looked like a throne worthy of a foreign king.
Maria caught a glimpse of ten women in the regal red and white costume descended from the sky, riding on their strange looking brooms with birdlike gracefulness. Witches they were, these devils in white were there as well when those devils in black apprehended Maria and her seadogs. However, they stood from afar, watching with their lord from above. The witches fixed the sofa’s posture, clamping its four golden legs into the sand until it looked neat and even. They lightly nodded their heads in satisfaction the moment they finished their job and quickly formed two rows on both sides of that golden throne, standing in attention.
Maria instinctively craned her neck and bent her back into the shape of a drawn bow like a lowly slave.
He came, the demon descended to the scorching southern beach with his laughter. His voice was beautiful to the ears, cultured and sweet, like a hymn to Niwdar, in fact too beautiful that it became chilling. His voice was neither that of a child nor a grown man but something else, something inhuman.
If a peal of laughter could bring forth winter and storm to this southern land, it would be this one, the same voice branded the image of her defeat into Maria’s consciousness. This laughter was her defeat and shame.
Maria felt an invisible force crushing on her craned neck like someone has just put a large stone on it. Fire coursed through her veins, burning her from within. Her breath became shallow and her heartbeats were as loud as war drums. Maria could not help but fixed her eyes at her own trembling shade and the skin of her entire body crawled whilst the ten women in white started thumping the heavier end of their strange brooms to the ground in harmony, saluting their lord.
The sand beneath that ornate throne shifted slightly, that’s how Maria realized that the lord of chaos himself has sat on his throne. The laughter suddenly stopped, only to be replaced with wet smacking sounds, reminded Maria of the sounds she heard when her seadogs kissed the whores they captured. If Maria were not sure that this demon was indeed a debauched degenerate as rumors said, she believed now. Don’t believe it, don’t believe it, Maria inwardly warned herself, it was just another mind game. Maria knew that she was being mocked for her womanhood. The demon was hinting that there were worse fates for her other than death without voicing it aloud and Maria was completely aware of that. Men do not get raped, women do. It was one of her favorite mind tricks as well. Thus, she understood what the demon was implying through his action.
Maria dared not looking up. She could only wait within that suffocating atmosphere and that sweltering heat. Eventually, those wet smacking sounds ended and substituted by playful giggles between lovebirds.
Maria held her breath. Her skin curled. How could such playful giggles sound so terribly terrifying? Perhaps, because Maria only started to understand what kind of demon that her capturer was, that she felt such gripping terror.
The long silence followed after that made Maria wanted to escape this strange place as far as possible. There was no noise, none but the erratic drums of her heartbeats. It was as if there were a thousand of millions of red ants crawled beneath her skin. That long silence was suffocating and dreadful, but the beats of the war drum inside her chest were even more agonizingly dreadful. Maria could not prevent her fear from leaking out. She felt the demon’s gaze on her sunbaked nape.
“So, who is this fair lady that I am having the pleasure of admiring?”
Suddenly that suspenseful silence was snapped by a deep and penetrating male voice.
“She’s the leader of Black Storm pirate, Milord.” A most womanly voice responded.
Instinctively, Maria felt the demon’s gaze bore on her and his delight from her display of terror and submission.
The demon’s amused chuckle swept away the scorching haze around Maria, turning her body cold. “So, you are Maria the Black Storm of Skull Island? Without the Black Mast, without your Black Hand, without your crossbow, you look like a normal woman to me, albeit the most beautiful woman I have seen in this land.”
Flinched shortly, Maria drew a sharp breath, “Yes, my lord,” she answered. The demon’s voice dreaded her still. It was her trauma, shame, and defeat. She bit into the inner part of her lips to mask her own clattering teeth. As if it would help, she cursed herself. Her fear was making Maria a fool. Her entire body was trembling from her own cold sweats. Somehow, Maria managed to reply without betraying the quiver that dominated her body.
“Oh, it’s my Lord this time and not a son of a bitch? Why the sudden change of heart, my dear?” The voice intoned, no longer deep and penetrating, just plain playfully and innocently, like that of a spoiled child who has just pulled off a prank.
“This lowly servant did not know any better back then, please be merciful, my lord,” Maria gritted her teeth to conquer her inner fear and fought the shake in her shoulders. Her fingernails dug into her palm to remind her that she should not falter here. As long as I keep my wit together, I could survive through this ordeal to turn things around, Maria kept telling herself.
“I can forgive you for such mistake. I especially have a soft spot for beautiful women like you,” The voice changed again into that of an adult, deep and sultry.
“You are mag…”
“My dear Maria, why did you insist on picking a fight with me? Were you drunk when you made that statement?” The voice became childlike again, innocent and holy, sending a chill to Maria’s spine.
Maria never had the chance to thank the demon and used that opportunity to turn the conversation around in the direction, which she desired. She was cut off. He meant to cut her off, purposely. He trapped her and trapped her good. Her hasty reply, eager for her pardon and safety has shown him just how terrified she was. She has prepared a fitting answer to this question. And yet, the way this demon asked her in his frivolousness made his question felt almost bizarre to her. “No, my lord, I…”
“It’s fine.” He cut her again, “Anyone can make that kind of mistake. In fact, I do, all the time. The last time I was drunk, I declared war against the Great Temple. When I woke up with a horrible hangover, I was horrified to find that I have burned five hundred paladins and another three hundred inquisitors of the Great Temple alive. What I am trying to say is shit happens when we are drunk.” He cackled in a childlike innocent voice just like he was trying to tell Maria a joke.
Maria felt the insidious vice of fear tightened around her chest. Her body went stiff. She would not mind if he was talking to her in a condescending manner of a captor to a captive, or threatening with torture or mocking her with a sarcastic voice. She would not be afraid if he threatened her with a loud booming voice like that of clapping thunders. Perhaps, she would not be afraid if he pointed a sword at her neck. It was this overwhelming playfulness and cheerfulness in his voice, that innocent childlike voice of his that made everything about him so dreadful. Everything about him felt so wrong and inhuman.
Of course, Maria had heard of that rumor, that this man earned his title the Witch-King by setting fire on the very headquarter of the Inquisitors and paladins, the Great Temple of Sinintee on Lake Shore Isle. However, she had dismissed that as some nonsense, anyone would. Only a stupid person would do something so stupid like that. Only a madman would pick a fight with the Great God.
“I ask you once again. Were you drunk when you declare your intention to fight me or were you sober and awake when you make that funny statement?” The Witch-king readdressed his question, this time, less playful and childlike. His voice became more somber and deep, gentle and encouraging.
The gentleness in the Witch-king’s somber voice made Maria’s blood curled.
What was I thinking when I picked this fight? Why did I even think that I could win? Why did I believe that I would ever be safe from someone like this? Why did I pick a fight with this man? Why did I declare that I would fight such a terrifying devil? Maria wished that she could return to that time again. She would immediately surrender in a favorable term, let the other pirate lords of the southern sea laughed and mocked me for my cowardice all they want. Maria knew she would have the last laugh, had she surrendered.
“Forgive me, my lord, I was drunk,” Maria replied. Not an answer she wanted to give, not a smart answer either given her situation, but what choice did she have when the Witch-king framed his question in such a manner? If she replied that she was sober, Burned by the stake for sure, Maria did not have to guess her ending if she would make such stupid choice, assuming that the rumors of the Witch-king burned people for his entertainments. Would he tolerate me if I try to change the frame of this question, picking another answer out of the yes and no that I was given? No, the witch-king has cut her off twice, subtly showing his unwillingness for her to do that. What choice did I have? None.
“It’s fine. I understand,” that mismatching playfulness returned to his voice, “I can’t blame you for being drunk and acting in such a manner. Shit happens when we are drunk. Suddenly, I feel like we can become friends with each other,” he cackled.
Maria preferred the demon just outright threatened her with swords and fire than using that accursed artificial voice of his, but, she kept her thought a secret. “This lowly servant would not dare,” Maria inadvertently prostrated, sinking her head deeper into the baking sand.
“Don’t talk like that. Raise your head, my dear,” the demon whispered affectionately.
“My lord, I would not dare.”
“Raise your head!” The demon hissed, “Show me your face,” his voice carried no cheerfulness and frivolousness this time. A commanding and resolute voice befitting to that of a king erupted and compelled Maria to raise her head in a hurry.
There sat a man whose appearance was like the very darkness itself in the sweltering hazes of high noon. His hair was dark and long, glossy, tied into a ponytail. The color of his hair made Maria wondered if this man was even human, only a dark elf would possess such lustrous black hair. Yet, his ears were round, perhaps he was conceived from a rare union between a man and a dark elf, Maria thought. He was so beautiful that he appeared to be inhuman.
His sharpened eyes were so dark that they were like the very reflection of a starless night, dark and hypnotic. Those dark orbs made Maria felt like she could lose herself within their hypnotic allure just like when she stared into a moonless night sea. Chiseled jawline on a regal feline face, his face was too beautiful for him to be a man, and yet, too handsome to be mistaken for a woman. Maria had seen a real prince once, charming and allure he was, but completely pale in comparison to this man. His skewed lips curved into an inviting smile, never Maria has seen a smile so beautiful, something to sigh over, something to die for, yet equally crawlingly terrifying.
Had Maria never known his trickeries and demon-like laughter before, she would have fallen for this beautiful smile of his without a doubt, as any woman would.
Lust sighs in her sleep.
Mistress Death shall weep.
Niwdar could only fume.
Once, there were them.
Now, there is only Fearless.
It was not an exaggeration to put this man on the same caliber of the Beautiful Demon Lord, the Corpse Queen and the Goddess of Beauty herself. Whoever made that song know what they are singing, Maria thought as her back became cold. The Witch-king was so beautiful that he seemed unreal and chilling.
The Witch-king wrapped himself in a strange looking leathery fabric, dark and glossy just like his own hair. Intricate words of unknown language were embroidered on his left chest in golden thread. A strange sigil that resembled a golden flower of five hands wove just above those strange letters. These detailed embroideries were vivid and seamless like nothing else Maria has seen. His costume added a mysterious alluring substance on the witch-king like it was created and meant to be worn by him alone. In his left hand, a contrasting white-feathered fan swaying.
Standing on both sides of his throne were two beautiful women in the red and white costume of the witches. One was as beautiful as a treasured sword of an ancient hero, adorned but sharp and deadly while the other was like a flower on a treacherous mountaintop, gentle, elegant and dignified. Even for someone who took great pride in her beauty, Maria felt insecure and intimidated being in the presence of these women. They were without a doubt the most gorgeous looking women she had ever seen in her entire life. They both had a large canopy in their hands to shield that Witch King from the scorch of high noon.
“Come closer, dear,” the Witch King whispered affectionately. His inviting eyes bore down on Maria’s prized assets. His hypnotic lips curved beautifully, delighted with what he saw.
It was like a scene cropped out of a painting. Had Maria seen such a beautiful sight under normal circumstance, she would be swooned with feminine pride and ardent thought. She would suffer many sleepless nights. Her heart would probably race until it delivered itself to the Witch King and became lost to Maria. But now, all Maria could feel from it was sheer terror. Her stiffened legs betrayed Maria’s secret pleas and willed themselves toward the Witch King.
“Closer dear,” music was his passionate whisper, soft, inviting and enchanting like the sound of a glass flute played by a high elf. Yet, darkness and insanity laced in his words.
Maria’s legs betrayed her heart and complied with the Witch King’s command without fail. The closer was Maria to the Witch King, the more compelling that grip of terror inside her heart became.
“You are indeed as beautiful as the rumor said, my dear. Perhaps, even more beautiful than my companions here,” the witch-king joked, and all of a sudden, his own treasured sword of a woman turned and slapped him with a spine-breaking force.
Maria forgot to breathe in that instance. She just stared at the surreal scene before her in suspenseful silence. It’s not like that woman slapped that hard… but… What did that insane woman just do? A cold bead rolled down Maria’s cheek.
The Witch-king turned his sight on his treasured sword. His eyes rolled in disbelief, his hand palmed his reddened cheek. Then suddenly, he just giggled as the rest of his witches in red and white costume slowly broke into an infectious giggle fits. His treasured sword of a woman was the only person who could keep a straight face through that. The Witch-king pulled his treasure sword close and planted a playful kiss on her rosy lips, prompted a blushing smile on her face. The surreal scene before Maria unfolded as if it was a part of a play that was rehearsed by these actors and actresses over and over again until they were used to it.
“Now back to you, my dear Maria, I gave you the opportunity to surrender, did I not?” the Witch-king held himself back from his own giggle, fanning himself and his two ladies standing at his sides with his white feather fan.
“My Lord, you did,” Maria admitted.
“Twice, I had sent my envoys to give you the chance to surrender. Each time, you sent back their heads. I could understand with your reasoning for chopping the head of the first one. After all, he was too ugly for his own good. But the second one? I handpicked him. Common, he’s not even that ugly. Or perhaps, you were drunk again the second time? Were you really that drunk when my men dropped off your island?” he asked, still smiling and weathering through his own incessant giggle.
“No, my lord…” Maria tried to reason and immediately, she was cut off again. However, this time, the Witch-king did not make so much of a noise. The smile on his face vanished without a trace, and so did his giggle, like a fistful of sand dissipated within a strong wind. That prompted Maria to rescind her answer out of sheer survival instinct, “Yes, my lord.”
“You are such a bad girl, getting drunk all day long,” the Witch-king laughed, “But, I like bad girls. Therefore, I can forgive you for being drunk like that. I feel like you would do just fine in my company.” Then all of a sudden, his voice became devoid of warmth, “However, those two lives that you took were my men. I could not let that crime go unpunished. My dear Maria, there is nothing I want more at this moment than mount your pretty head on a pike and make an example out of that. The people of this southern continent would sing my name for a century for doing so. And even the kings and queens who you angered, they would soon send me letters and gifts to praise me for this achievement. What do you think?” He declared the most dreadful thing with the most charming smile on his face. His voice was soft and sultry just like he was welcoming Maria into his own court, and yet he has just announced his attention to behead her.
It was this that Maria has finally understood what was so terrifying about this man. It was this mismatching smile and voice that he employed. Joy that was not joy and anger that was not anger. He did not sound like a human or act like one, but something out of this realm.
Maria began to wonder if this man demonstrated so much of his power out of boredom and not out of his need to exploit her values. He gave her hope but, if this hope turned out to be false hope, that would be the worst thing that could happen to Maria, and she knew it.
Maria stared at the man while gulping quietly. Her own head and the two thousands heads of her seadogs were resting on her shoulders. For a moment, Maria could see her life flashing before her eyes.
She was Maria, the Black Storm of Skull Island. She gained notoriety for becoming a pirate lord that commanded the Black Mast- a marauding force of over two thousand pirates and regularly led them into many large raids across the eastern coastal area of the southern continent. She struck fear into the heart of every man and woman of the seven kingdoms of the southern continents, especially those who live in the coastal area.
A great many times, the kings and queens of the seven kingdoms have formed a coalition, uniting their navy forces to assault Maria and her Black Mast in their main base at the Black Skull island, not once they were anywhere near achieving it. The geography of Black Skull Island made it so that it was extremely easier to defend than assault and those who were not familiar with the water would have their ship sunk by the shallow shoal and natural reef that surround the island. The mist that constantly surrounded the island also played a large role in its natural defensive prowess. The entire island was a natural fortress for Maria and her pirates.
The coalition of kings tried to change their approach and decided to ambush Maria on many occasions, but she outsmarted them every time. And the other pirate lords who were bounded to the pact of the pirate king would come to Maria’s rescue, raiding the undefended territories to lift the siege on her island. Maria and her allies would win every time.
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She was invincible. Her Black Mast was undefeatable, that was until this Witch-king whose appearance was darkness and whose voice was winter came. Maria was completely unprepared for his attack. Her intelligence told her that he was still partying in the capital city of the Blue Moon Kingdom with his women and army. Yet, on the very night that Maria chopped his messenger’s head for the second time. He arrived with his army of witches, flying above the Black Skull Island on their strange fire-spitting brooms, and turning the entire Skull Island into a raging inferno. The thick fog, shallow shoal and the sharp reef did nothing against things that flew like birds. The Skull fortress built out wood and stone, it did little to stop things that breathe fire like dragons.
Maria and her crews abandoned their burning fortress and ran for the beach, listening to a mysterious Saint-like voice inside their head for direction. Beautiful was that voice, like a whisper of a Valkyria, innocent and childlike, holy. That mysterious voice would direct Maria to avoid her fate of dying within her fiery grave. She listened to that voice, trusting her life to it. It was the most caring, the most childlike, innocent, and charming that she has ever heard. There would be no way that it would backfire on her. She followed it, hoping that she could reach her boats in time and that was where she was routed.
A thousand pike-men and bowmen waited for Maria and her seadogs at the beach along with a hundred of witches hovering above the sky in their strange-looking brooms. That Saint-like voice inside her head broke into an insidious burst of demonic laughter, mocking Maria’s stupidity for trusting it. Maria and her crew had to make their choice, to die in the flame or die at the pike or surrender, and most of them chose surrender wisely.
So this is Fearless, Maria bitted her lips and swallowed the frustration of her shameful defeat.
A man who dared to defy the Great temple and fought for the witches. A heretic among heretics, the slayers of paladins and priests and the witch king himself. Fearless was his name, the appointed Pacifying General of Blue Moon Kingdom. Maria has faced brave knights and nobles in battle before, she had fought against terrifying pirate lords whose faces disfigured with scars before to stand where she stood today, but none terrified her like this man. Even though, she was so sure that he would not kill her like he said, his words made Maria doubted her values. However, if he wanted to make an example of Maria, he would have done it by now. Maria knew she still had her uses while being alive. The fact that he asked Maria of her opinion was the best evidence.
“You would not kill me, wise lord,” Maria spoke adamantly despite her racing heart. She could not afford to dawdle in his mind game. She had to take the initiative to reframe this conversation to her advantage.
“Oh, I would not be so sure about that,” the witch-king smiled innocently, leaned backward and prompted Maria to continue.
“Nobody can read the water and wind of the nine seas in this entire southern continent better than me,” Maria boasted, “If you allow me to live, you will gain a… “
“Naval commander? I have already had one. Why and how do you think that I have succeeded in locating your fortress and fell it this morning?” The Witch-king interrupted. His hypnotic eyes half closed. His lips curved into a wicked smile for the first time, “I have already had one excellent naval commander. I don’t need another, especially one with the level of infamy as you, my dear.”
“Wise Lord, surely you…” Maria shuddered and immediately tried to reason.
“Maria, my sweet Maria, I will let you know that I am an impatient person and worse, I’m very exhausted at the moment. Make it fast so that I can go home and have my afternoon nap,” the Witch king once again interrupted Maria, “Thanks to you, I was forced to party with a bunch of nobles for seven straight days without sleeping a single wink until now. Seven days, I repeat, seven days without sleeping once. Now, I am very sleepy and tired,” the Witch-king smiled a most saintly smile and then as if he forgot something, raising his brows, “And PISSED!” He hissed. His face twisted in the redness of rage.
Maria sweated and bit into her lips to stop her teeth from clattering. She did not expect such a clear rejection. She was the woman who commanded a bunch of lowlifes, uneducated foolish seadogs to outwit and outfight even the navy coalition of the seven kingdoms and yet the Witch-king did not even consider adding her to his service. “My Black Mast would only listen to my command. Please, let me live and you will have a force of two thousand men at your service,” Maria humbly suggested an alternate.
“Those brainless worms you mean?" the Witch-king darkly pointed his white fan at the 2000 tied pirates under Maria’s command, “I don’t need that many untrustworthy men under my command. In fact, I do not even want them in my army. Why would I want them?” He declared firmly and then suddenly clicked his tongue as if he was having a second thought.
“Though, you are right. Executing all of them is a waste. Therefore, what I am about to do, after I am done dealing with you, is culling their numbers. I will make them kill themselves, fighting among themselves and cutting their size into a number that I see fit.” The witch king darkly chuckled in his frosty voice as he waved his fan, “I don’t have the confidence to control 2000 rowdy and undisciplined seadogs by myself all at once. But, I can easily do that with three hundred or so, don’t you think? And for the other 1700, I will put their head on pikes to appease the anger of all men and women of whom you people plundered, robbed, raped and killed.”
What do you mean you don’t have the confidence? You command Witches…. Maria bit her inner lips.
The witch king smiled beautifully, his voice was still as inviting and alluring as ever, and yet, he had declared Maria useless for his cause, sealing her living routes, one route after another.
“Please, let me be your messenger, let me tell the other pirate lords and the pirate king to put down their arms and kneel to you, my lord,” Maria begged. “I will tell them the story of your might and benevolence. I will convince them. I promise that you won’t have to fight another battle.” Maria knew that she was clinging to a lie. The pirate king and the other pirate lords would not bow to this Witch-king. They would laugh at her for her defeat and they would unite to fight against him after that. But that’s not a matter of concern to Maria. If she became the Witch-king’s messenger, she gained the chance to escape him as far as possible.
The Witch-king chuckled. He looked at Maria as if he found what she just said incredibly amusing. Slowly, laughter finally broke out of his throat and doubled his lanky body. Tears flowed down from his dark eyes as the Witch-king gasped for air, fighting back his laughter. Slowly, the laughter died. The Witch king brushed the tears in his eyes with his thumb, gasping, “The reason I gave you a chance to surrender is that I heard that you were a beautiful woman. It has nothing to do with the number of your army or your laughable abilities. I was cursed to always give any beautiful woman a chance or a handicap regardless of whether they are my mortal enemy or not. Also, this army of mine, strong and trained they are, but very inexperienced. Those ignorant seadogs, friends and king of yours, I think they will provide a great experience for my army. Therefore, the more battle I can fight, the better.”
Then, what else do you want from me? Maria could not help but cursed inwardly. A tear inadvertently rolled down her cheek when the realization that her ambition and quest for revenge has ended hit her. Maria relied on her tears for one more time in her life. She was aware that she looked the most beautiful when she led those tears flown. It’s a rare sight for a strong and beautiful woman like her to show weakness. When all else failed, the tear is the only correct answer. There is no way that a pervert like him would not be able to feel a thing. Maria just hoped that she might be able to pull this trick once more time.
The man sighed unwillingly. He promptly rose from his adorned throne and approached Maria. His witches alarmed and tried to prevent him from doing so but he casually shrugged them off by waving his fan.
Tenderly, he combed Maria’s disheveled lock and brushed away the sand on her forehead. His breath straddled her chin, smelling as sweet as honey. “Maria, oh sweet Maria,” he gently brushed away the tears welled up in her eye corners with his thumb. His sweet whisper gave Maria chill. Her body suddenly felt cold like she has just been tossed into the night sea of the northern realm despite the scorch of high noon she felt until recently. Her knees went soft like jellyfishes and she weakly crumbled into the burning sand before her, or so she thought she would but instead found herself in the cold alluring embrace of winter and darkness.
“This is your last chance,” he whispered into Maria’s ear as he slowly combed her damaged and burned golden hair with his slim fingers, “Tell me, why else should I keep you alive?” And then he whispered sweet nothings into her ears.
His two ladies quickly dragged him back to his luxurious chair and sat him down. They admonished him and then stared at Maria with angry eyes. The man broke into a burst of childlike laughter, playfully pulled the witches toward him and sat them down on his laps. He coltishly kissed the witches as they giggled, and flirtatiously planted a kiss on his cheeks in respond.
As for Maria, she knew the answer, the man has told her. Of course, there would be no way that he would kill a beautiful woman like her. When all else has failed, tear is the answer.
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Despite the number of praises that people of Blue Moon Kingdom gave me, I am completely aware of my stupidity. In fact, I would dare to say that there is no bigger moron in this entire world of Escana than I am. This world is full of incredibly stupid men and shockingly dumb women, but I am the only one who can take the word “Stupidity” to the next level. After all, it takes more than just talent and ignorance to be stupid.
“Stupidity is an Art.”
Whatever men label as “an Art” shall be “an Art.” Painting is an Art. Singing is an Art. Cooking is an Art. Farming is an Art. Trading is an Art. War is an Art and killing, too, is an Art, most unfortunately. If something like War and Killing is Art, as long as I recognize Stupidity is an Art, it is an Art. Stupidity is an Art, at least for an artist like me.
A person does not automatically become the world most stupid man by being born stupid. It takes a great amount of commitment, strength, practice, discipline, research and study to become the most stupid man in the world. I dare to say that I am such a person. Otherwise, there should be no other reason for me to spare the life of the pirate woman who is kneeling before me. Sparing the life of this woman is an act of stupidity, I reminded myself again for the zenith time since I first decided to crush Maria and her pirates.
Maria, the very Black Storm herself, she was one of the sixty-three playable warlords in the real-time strategy game Reign of Chaos (ROC for short). She can be also recruited as a vassal warlord upon the rout of her pirate group, at a great cost of raising the ire of all the seven rulers of the Southern continent of the kingdoms she and her armada constantly raided. Unless the players decided to create a state of total war and chaos in the southern continent of the world Escana, there is no advantage in recruiting Maria as a vassal warlord.
Why would someone go through such trouble of recruiting her? Recruiting her means going to war with my allies, the other six kingdoms of the Southern Continent, all at the same time. Why should I recruit such a character? I carefully mulled on such crucial questions for weeks before I could explain the reason for my action with two questions.
“Why the fuck not?”
“I am stupid, remember?”
Recruiting Maria from my current position meant declaring war against roughly half of the kingdoms in the southern continent. To make it worse, her loyalty rating is atrociously low in the 30s, which means she could easily turn her blade against me at any crucial moment. In addition, despite Maria being a very capable naval commander by making her way to the top 30 best naval commanders in a colossal roster of over 300 naval commanders in the game; there were many other characters with better stats and skills that can be recruited for that position. And the best naval commander in ROC can literally break the game with his skills and attributes.
So why bother recruiting Maria?
She was not even that smart, like seriously, what makes she think that I would spare her life in the first place? Do I look like a fool who use my crotch to think instead of using my fucking brain? Excuse me, I have a brain to think. It’s just that I don’t intend to use it smartly and I just happen to use my crotch as my bran from time to time. Does this woman really believe that her crocodile tears can deceive me? That’s hilarious.
I’m sure that Maria would like to think that she is a smart person. However, when she speaks she sounds like my kind, the most stupid kind of people. Because I have pursued Stupidity as a form of Art and opened a school for stupid people to train them in the Art of Stupidity and because I am the leading artist in the Art of Stupidity, I can say for sure that Maria is a dumb woman. I can say for certain that history would agree with me. Future historians would deem Maria as nothing but a dumb bitch for losing against me in such a hilarious manner. People would remember her as a dumb bitch and not Maria the Black Storm, the terror of the Southern continent that she was, until now.
However, above everything, Her Majesty the Queen gave me an Imperial decree to execute Maria the Black Storm at the capital in public upon her capture. She made that Imperial Decree because she understood the kind of pervert and stupid man who she has appointed as her general, me.
The Queen understood my nature better than I am. And yet, I am her general, I fought back my urge to laugh at the absurdity of my situation and the future of the kingdom. With a queen and a general like this, who need enemy?
Sparing Maria’s life is the epitome of ill logic. There should be no logical reasoning to support the act of sparing her life. No man with a brain inside his head would spare her. That’s why the kind of man with a brain inside his head and understood all the ill logic of his action, and yet still decide to spare her is the world biggest moron, a true pursuer of Stupidity.
“But look at her, the gods can be damned, seeing her in real life. Maria was drop-dead gorgeous, a thousand times prettier than her in-game pixels rendered self. Her tan skin was glossy and sweet like honey, stirring the desire to lick and savor every bit of flesh on her body. That cascaded golden hair even when disheveled and damaged by fire and ash did nothing to diminish her beauty if not erecting the darker desires of a man to own and dominate her.
My god. It was as if a goddess had fallen from Heaven. This woman possessed a beauty that worth waging war against the world,” This is what the voice of ill logic sounds like to the ears of an artist of Stupidity.
Her beauty could make a man say, “Who cares if she was a psycho bitch who commanded 2000 pirates that looted, plundered, killed and terrorized an entire seven kingdoms. Who cares if she was the psycho bitch that slit the throat of her own husband in their wedding night to steal his troops? Who cares if she had a terrible personality? Who fucking cares if she would later stab me in the back or slit my throat?”
The man who can say something like that is a hopelessly stupid man and a fucking pervert with no redeeming quality. Sadly, I am such a person.
I am fully convinced that she would betray met at the first chance she had. Only that, I never doubt for a moment. However, as the world biggest moron, I would declare this to the world to defend my action, “But she's worth it. L’oreal should seriously hire this woman to recast their “Because I’m worth it” commercial. Her beauty would make even the Helen of Troy in the Iliad hung her head in shame. Standing in front of such beauty, even the like of Diao Chan of the three kingdoms era would hang herself to death out of jealousy.”
But, there is no reason to keep Maria alive. In fact, Google would agree with me. If I could access to Google at the moment and start searching for the reasons to keep Maria alive, I’m sure that Google would answer with, “404 Not found,” because, I merely used ill logic to defend the ill logic of my action.
Logically, L’oreal would never hire Maria to be their model due to her infamy, which would seriously hurt their branding image. Helen of Troy would not stab Paris in his back in the Iliad. Diao Chan would definitely convince Lu Bu to spilt Maria’s head open to prove his love for her.
The stubbornness to use ill logic to defend ill logic is a commitment to the art of Stupidity.
“My Lord, calm down and put those coins away,” a husky voice came to me in a ghostly whisper. I looked down at my right hand. It was indeed holding my magic coins since the gods knew when.
This is bad, my longtime habit is resurfacing, I clicked my tongue and made a fist. I reopened my fist afterward and the coins have disappeared.
“When I told you to put them away, I did not mean for you to do it in that manner, my lord. It looks freaky, I have told you many times. And I have bought you that fan for this purpose,” Louise’s admonishing voice rang inside my ears.
“My bad, old habit dies hard,” I raised my white feathered fan to cover my mouth and whispered right back to Louise. She used the spell “Phantom echo” just in time to remind me to not lose my head over my own crotch.
“Recompose yourself, my Lord. Don’t lose yourself in your desires and make irreversible mistakes.”
“Thank you, Louise, I don’t know if I can do this without you.”
“Of course you can, my Lord, you are my equal. And you can adore me later. Sir Eliot has been very discontented with your recent actions. Please, focus. This is a crucial moment.” Louise ended our short discussion like that.
One is the wisest strategist in the world and the other is the biggest moron in the world, only that part makes us equal. Louise represents the epitome of logic while I am the champion of ill logic. I am actually even surprised that the two of us can coexist in an army, a general and his strategist. However, we coexisted just fine. This world is fucking strange, I mused and turned my attention at the Queen’s Eye.
Sir Eliot, one of the Queen’s Eyes who silently stood in a corner to detail my every action to the Queen disapprovingly raised his eyebrows when I approached Maria. My royal guards had to pull me away from Maria to save me from myself. I earnestly apologized to them when they admonished me. Of course, I noticed his dissatisfaction. It’s just that my mind was full of Maria that I could not care less about anything else. I’m sorry for being a pervert. I’m sorry that the general you admired is a massive pervert, I inwardly apologized to Sir Eliot. But, as an artist, I am not sorry for being stupid.
Her Majesty the Queen knew my terrible habit, that’s why she appointed Sir Eliot to watch me. Sir Eliot would never allow me to let Maria live because that was the Queen’s decree. Maria must die under the Queen’s watch to make sure that I would not conjure some tricks.
Maria, you are the most unfortunate, I sighed inwardly.
“Wise Lord, please allow this lowly slave to live. I will forever be your slave and possession. I will be your woman, your bodyguard, your slave, your animal or whatever you desire me to be. Please spare me,” Maria prostrated flatly on the ground as she shamelessly begged for her life, exactly as I have told her.
Bang, I inadvertently hit my palm full force against the chair’s armrest and made the people around me flinched. Even Sir Eliot who stood at the corner of my vision flinched. I gritted my teeth, clutching my feathered fan tightly to keep my composure.
It turned out that my composure was crumbling at the blinding speed as I spoke in a burst, “Really? Are you for real? Are you for freaking real? You are supposed to appeal to me, but not for your fucking life. You should appeal for the lives of those two thousands seadogs of yours over there. You are their leader. You are supposed to plea to spare the lives of your dogs. If you at least that minimal amount of dignity, I could have spared you.”
“Lord, but you just promised me…”
All the testosterone in my head vanished in this single instance like a popped water balloon only to be replaced by the pure coldness of the mind, a whirlwind of silver.
“Maria Black Storm of Skull Island, you are a major disappointment until the very last minute. For your crime of piracy and all the crimes you have committed against the people of the seven kingdoms, I sentence you to a most dishonored death. You shall die a dog’s death. Witches, strip her and take her away. Executioner, get your blade ready,” I coldly waved my fan and a row of my witches moved forward to grab Maria.
The witches immediately tore Maria’s iconic black robe into shreds, replaced it with her birthday suit and dragged her away with force, “My Lord, please, no…” Maria desperately begged, but she could do nothing against my witches.
“General, you can’t kill her here. We have to bring her back to the capital for the queen to arrange her public execution," Sir Eliot ran over and kneeled before me as he advised with earnest.
“Sir Eliot. You good sir, I am sick of this woman. She's cruel, shameless and disgusting. Public execution is too good for the like of her, that way, she would appear in another paragraph or two in the future history books. Worse, she would enter the annals of history by sharing the pages with me, with my name on them. That is undeserving of her. I cannot stand to watch such insanity to happen. I refuse to allow that to happen.” I waved my fan and coldly stated.
Sir Eliot clutched his head. His expression betrayed utter confusion and dread due to the sudden change of plan. “General, Her Majesty the Queen has decreed that the Black Storm is to be escorted and publicly executed in the capital. That is the royal decree.” Sir Eliot respectfully bowed as he looked back and forth between me and Maria, “You can’t do this General. The Queen would have your head this time. Please listen to me, general. This woman does not worth your life.”
I sighed, pretending to be convinced by Sir Eliot’s wise words for a moment, just giving him enough time to take a breath of relief. “Sir Eliot. I’m afraid that you will report to Her Majesty the Queen of what transpires today as follow. I, General Fearless has chopped off the Black Storm’s head and put it on a stick despite the order I have received. That is it. I will not argue with you any further about this, good sir.”
Sir Eliot sighed a weary sigh, with his sigh, Sir Eliot’s hope was spent. The good Eliot was more afraid of me being killed by the Queen afterward than earning the Queen’s displeasure himself.
Knowing that defying the royal decree of the Her Majesty the Queen is stupid and still defying it, this is what it takes to be a stupid man. Even Death cannot make a stupid man smart.
Maria struggled for her dear life as she was dragged away by the witches and I could not blame her for that. It’s natural to be afraid of dying.
She kept begging me, “Lord Fearless, have mercy,” struggled mightily and desperately as the witches dragged her up to the execution platform and at one point, she won, miraculously, tumbled over the platform, dragging my witches with her.
“Knock the living out of that shameless woman for me. She keeps getting on my nerve,” with authority and anger, I shouted my order. The witches with their reinforced battle-brooms received the order, clubbing the daylight out of Maria Black Storm with the heavier end of their broom stick. The beating went on and on, showing no sign of stopping or mercy. Only when Maria became bloody, broken, tattered and immobile in a pool of blood, the witches would then resume dragging her naked body and tossing her over the chopping block.
“I will leave the remaining matters to your able hands, Sir Eliot. I find no stomach in watching how the head of such a shameless woman would roll. As for those 2000 seadogs, do away with them as we have discussed and prepared your reports accordingly,” I rose from my sofa, “You can have this chair and the canopies. It’s better for your health to work in the shade.” I smiled at Sir Eliot.
“I have received my order, general. And I wholeheartedly pray that Her Majesty would not cut your head, General.” Sir Eliot respectfully replied and added his concern in all honesty.
“Good, I will go back to my mansion now and have my afternoon nap. Once you are done, visit me at my mansion for the report.” I walked away while casually nodding my head to recognize Sir Eliot’s good intention.
As I strode toward my carriage, I looked at the lifeless and bloody figure of Maria the Black Storm on the chopping block for the last time. It retained none of her innate unearthly beauty. I sighed languidly and never looked back at her figure again. At the edge of my vision, the masked executioner darkly aligned the execution platform with a large execution blade hung heavily over his shoulders. As I was about ten steps away from my carriage, I can hear a clear thudding sound of the execution blade hitting against the chopping block. After that, the hollow ‘Thunk’ that echoed from within the metallic bucket entered my ears in the most sickening manner.
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“This lowly servant has really thought that she was going to die.” Husky was her sensual purring. Gold cascading hair, honey skin, a goddess fell from heaven she was. She dressed in the adorned white and red uniform of my royal guards, adding a mysterious allure to her prized curves. She was like a sweltering fever that turned whoever touched her into ash. Yet they could not help but reach out for her, to feel the burn of passion as they turned into ashes. A bead of hot crystal rolled over her cheek and a hot sultry smile spread thinly on her lips as she snuggled into my chest, straddling my chest and seducing me with her womanly charms.
However, Maria’s charm lied beyond her physical appearance. She is treacherous, dangerous, and capable of backstabbing me, which was her most charming appeal.
“Maria The Black Storm died today,” I whispered amorously, “From now on, you are Aria, my naval battle advisor, and concubine to be,” and wrapped my arms around her thin waist. I playfully planted my lips on her beautiful nape, allowing myself to be fully seduced by Aria. Aria giggled carelessly in response, not knowing the hidden barbs inside my words. Otherwise, she would have groveled on the carriage floor by now.
“Hmm,” The sound of a person clearing her throat entered my ears, “My lord, you should have killed her, not sparing her like this.” A cold and emotionless voice resounded grimly, making the newborn Aria flinched away with teary eyes, “I can’t believe that you could pull that off.”
I turned and sighed at the angry girl sitting next to me. The witch battle dress she wore exuded a different vibe compared Maria. She looked pretty, like a doll. Her skin was pale and satin like. Her hair was gold, not the gold of beaten gold like the other woman but platinum gold like that of sunlight. Her sapphire eyes reflected an azure flame of anger.
I immediately tried to appease her, gently straddled her cheek, “It’s alright, Louise. The Queen is the only person in this world who could guess why I did this. It’s fine. Her Majesty will punish me but I bet that all the kings and queens from the east coast area that this mischievous Aria has angered will write letters to appease Her Majesty and ask for my pardon,” I said, stroking both Louise’s and Aria’s head at the same time.
If Louise wanted to kill Aria, there is nobody in my army could stop her. The only reason why Aria is still alive can be explained with a single sentence, “She is allowed to live.”
Louise agrees with my decision and allows Aria to live. That’s the only reason.
“We will be fine,” I assured, initiating a kiss on Louise’s curving lips.
“One day, you might be brought down by your lust, my lord,” the girl said her final pieces and resignedly accepted my affection. She had repeatedly told me the same thing for a thousand times. The words of my War Doll spelled like a prophecy, just another prophecy among many that I have already heard.
Even though I understood that I could not help it, such was my accursed nature, and such was the cursed star that I was born into. The fault lied with my star, never mine.
I looked at Aria, realizing that Aria was definitely thinking that she has won this gambit. I could already predict that she would definitely stab me when I was most vulnerable.
This woman has pulled that tricks twice with her fiancée and husband, but I was neither a love-struck nobleman nor a stupid pirate. I am the world biggest moron.
“Aria, just in case you still have not heard the name of your husband, I am Fearless, the Prince of The Alliance,” I declared my warning to Aria in the most stupid manner. Of course, since Aria’s level of stupidity has not reached my level, she could not understand it. She smiled and whispered into my ears that she would never forget my name in the sweetest of a whisper.
Now, when she has lost everything, she was the closest to her goal than ever. She believes that the only thing she must do for the moment is bidding her time and waits for the right opportunity.
It does not take a genius to guess what is inside Aria’s head. With the right knowledge of the lore of ROC, a little bit of cold reading skill, and a bit of guessing, even a moron could perceive Aria’s hidden thought and agenda.
I wholeheartedly wish that you could successfully betray me. I kissed Aria and wished for her to upset my expectation. But then, there was still my sword, flower, and doll. They are less merciful than me, especially to a rival... Don’t die... I would be very heartbroken if that happened. Good luck trying, Aria.
I savored the taste of Aria’s lips and pushed her down. Her eyes swimming and accepting. I already knew that keeping this troublemaker Aria would bring the Queen’s sword to my neck. But, so what?
If the Queen ever asked why I committed such stupidity and insanity of an action, “I am Fearless,” I would reply.
She should have predicted this result when she appointed me as her general. She got this coming for appointing me as her general.
Lesson number one for any monarch with a fully functional brain inside their head, do not make an Artist of Stupidity a general of a kingdom.