James sighed as he felt the salty air brush against him. It was funny, enjoying the sea like this despite his wonky track record with it. His sea sickness was absent this time, a result of living on the moving platforms of Vindis for these past weeks. Or perhaps it was the weather. Valenfrost had never looked this beautiful to James. The blue sky and the parted clouds with the calm and reflecting sea made it all so picturesque. Even the winds were kind, their cold currents sending the ship at high speed. At this rate, they would arrive in Yorktown in less than a day.
“Enjoying the sea?” Liam called out. The wheelman had a sly grin upon him, as if he caught James enjoying something he shouldn’t have.
James only grinned as he hung from the tail end of the longship. “It’s a nice day out. Probably the only one I’ve had since coming here.”
“Aye, Valenfrost ain’t got much to look at, but when you find those rare moments of beauty, ya learn to appreciate it more,” Liam chuckled.
“Amen,” James muttered. He took another breath of the fresh air, a small smile appearing on his lips.
‘Now to ruin the moment…’ James internally sighed. He pulled himself back to the ship, his feet shaking as he tried to accustom himself to the deck. ‘What’s our first order of business when we get back?’ He asked Faust.
‘What am I, your assistant?’
“Just answer the question,” James muttered aloud as he walked past crewmates.
‘Silas and the orcs. I know Dahlia was supposed to take care of it, but you’re still going to talk it over when we get back,’ Faust conceded.
‘I know. What’s next?’ James passed by Bjorn, who was busy trying to move a barrel to the hatch ahead. He ignored him, blowing it off as Faust spoke.
‘There’s the matter of explaining Malik to the council, proposing your booze idea, and also… Iendis.’
That made James stop in his tracks. The mention of the deity made him shiver. He could still remember her heated lips and the way those zombies chanted. The sight of Gryff staring at him with that accusatory look. James shook that image away, burying it deep within the reaches of his mind.
‘I have a lead. We just need to find it.’ James told the spirit.
‘Are you sure she exists, James? There’s a good chance that it was just a–’
“I know what I saw,” James responded aloud.
The spirit was silent.
‘I’m going to find her,’ James continued. ‘That’s what I’m going to do once the orcs are dealt with. After Silas, I’m going out to find her. I need answers. I need this.’ James could not forget what he saw back there, in his dream. Iendis knew him. She saw what he was, who he was. If he was going to get answers, she was it.
James stopped his walk. His train of thought was pushed aside for the moment as he glanced at Harald. The older man was currently getting some sleep at the longship’s other end, his sheathed weapon gripped tightly in his hands. The veteran already had sleep troubles back in Yorktown, but what happened in Vindis had amplified them. Harald was growing dark bags underneath his eyes, his mood and attentiveness also taking a hit. James wanted to speak with him about what they both saw in that dream, about the duel, and William. Harald had simply brushed him off, refusing to even acknowledge it.
‘He’s taking it harder than I thought,’ James thought to himself.
‘After what we both saw, I don’t blame him,’ Faust added. ‘A champion of the ember goddess, I would have never guessed,’ the Centurion muttered.
James frowned. ‘Champion or not, he clearly regrets it all. There’s more to it, and I want to help him, but he won’t open up at all.’ James turned to where Seamus sat. The young man was with Lilith, who was examining a puzzle box Seamus got for her.
‘Him too. Ever since Lydia, Seamus has been distant. He only spoke to me once about the whole thing and even then, he was vague about it.’ James furrowed his brow. ‘Do you think we need to give them more time? Do things like this ever even… heal?’
‘Try talking it out with him. It has been a while since you two last conversed,’ Faust suggested.
James sighed but didn’t object. He slowly approached the young man, whose gaze was still fixed on the sword he held. James sat next to him with no problem, his own focus on the billowing sails. There was some silence between the two, the awkwardness lasting for a minute or two. Seamus was the first to break it.
“Are you here to comfort me?” He asked James. “To coddle me and say I’m alright?”
“Just here to talk with you,” James answered. “I have no intention of asking what you saw in those visions. I know it’s… hard to remember that night.”
Seamus was quiet for a moment, his eyes closing as he sighed. “I watched him die. My father,” he muttered. “Watched as Deimos took his head off. I think… I think that was my breaking point. The moment where everything shattered for me.”
James listened in silence. He saw from his peripheral how Seamus rubbed his tired eyes.
“I don’t know how much I can handle. Every day since, it feels as if I’m losing a bit of my sanity. Every nightmare I have, I lose a piece of myself,” Seamus chuckled dryly as he grabbed at his chest. “I feel sick. Like a pit is forming in my stomach.” The young man turned to James. “It doesn’t help when you keep putting yourself through danger. When you make decisions, that could very well lead to disaster.”
James felt a bit of guilt at that. Malik and the deal with those thieves could have very well ended horribly. He was extremely lucky that he managed out of that situation.
“I’m sorry,” James expressed. “for putting you through that. I should’ve played it smarter, avoided dealing with Malik in the first place.”
“I forgive you for what you had to do,” Seamus responded. That surprised James. He didn’t expect that. “It’s difficult in your position, I suppose. Even so,” Seamus side-eyed James. “I don’t want you to end up as someone so accepting of the dark arts. Something like that could lead men down dark paths. Make them dangerous to themselves and the ones they love.”
There was a silent pause after that, with both men focusing on the wooden deck before them. James wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was ready to answer such a question.
“Do you know of the folktale of the Mad King?” Seamus broke the awkward silence with a question.
James raised an eyebrow at the young man’s inquiry. He had heard the name before. Whether through conversations between townsfolk or references made by Dahlia, James wasn’t entirely sure. Still, he had heard enough to get a gist of the story.
“He was one of the Four Kings in legend, right? Betrayed his brothers for power?” It was all he knew about the tale. The Four Kings was another known legend, about how the entirety of Azurvale and Valenfrost were united under four kingdoms. It had all ended, however, when one of them tried to kill the other three in search of power.
Seamus nodded. “That’s what everyone knows. The simplified version for children. The actual story… It’s grim.” He sat upright against the railing. “The Mad King used to be respected for his wits and intelligence. He was the brightest of the bright, one of the most powerful spellcasters in his time. Yet as time grew and his enemies continued to raid his lands, he sought for more power. He dug up old tomes, learned what he could. Wanted to protect those he cared about. At some point, he discovered how to summon a demon. Not just any demon, but a beholder demon.”
“Beholder?” James questioned. That was another name he had heard before, yet couldn’t recall where.
“A terrible demon,” Seamus explained. “Scarily intelligent, powerful, and downright malicious. When the Mad King summoned one, he struck a deal with it. A pact. It would give the king one of its eyes, granting him strength beyond his understanding. In return, the king had to promise to release the demon from its domain, unleashing it onto Azura. The Mad King did it without question, all in search of the forbidden.
“Some say he did it because he was confident he could keep the demon in check. Others say he was beyond mad at that point. That he only lusted after the power and knowledge. In the end, the beholder’s eye drove him to insanity. It granted him power, yes, but it also broke him. Made him mad. He had to be stopped by his brothers.” Seamus turned to James, almost expecting him to put the pieces together.
“That’s different,” James defended. “I made a safe pact with Malik. The Mad King pacted with a demon.”
“It’s still similar enough,” Seamus sighed. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you need to take care of what you pursue. I don’t know what lies in our future, but I don’t want to lose you in that darkness. It’s a pit that few can leave.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
James nodded, his focus going back to the sails above him. Seamus had a point. Whether he liked it or not, James was walking on a line that threatened to drag him down. Even with good intentions, anyone could turn to a path of madness.
“Think about it, please,” Seamus urged.
James looked at his friend, who seemed to beg with his eyes. Before he could get a word in, a commotion caught his attention.
“What the–?! Who are you?!” It was Bjorn, and he sounded pissed. James turned to where he last saw the dwarf. The barrel Bjorn had been pushing was now on its side, its lid on the ground. However, where he expected supplies and ingredients spilt all over the deck, was instead a young woman with braided black hair and steel-blue eyes. She wore a blue cloak and matching tunic, her outfit somehow familiar.
At first, James had no idea who she was. Then he saw what she held in her hands. A lute. Memories clicked and his mind recalled a certain image from a couple of weeks ago. She was the stalker who followed him in Vindis, the one he had locked eyes with before his encounter with the Thieves Guild.
“I know you, you’ve been stalking me haven’t you?” James confronted as he stood up.
“This is… embarrassing,” the woman chuckled nervously in response.
James grabbed at his sword’s hilt. “Why are you following me? Better yet, did Markov send you?”
The stalker held up her lute in defense, her eyes wide with fear. She babbled as she tried to explain herself, to no avail. James couldn’t understand a single word. He raised a hand, shutting her up.
“Just calm down. Take a deep breath and explain slowly.”
The young woman stopped, her gaze moving to her lute. She took a breath before she tried to explain once more.
“My name is Elaine. I’m just a bard. I’m not a threat or anything. I don’t even know who Markov is.” She took another breath, as if trying to control her nerves. “I was only curious about you and I wanted to approach you about, uh…” Elaine went quiet.
“About?” James prodded.
“I wanted to be your bard and scribe, write and sing stories about you.” Elaine sounded almost ashamed about her intentions.
“What?” James blinked. This was something he wasn’t prepared to hear. Out of all the reasons she could have had to follow and stalk him, James didn’t expect this.
“For a lowly bard like me to make money, I have to sing songs. For me to make it big, I have to find myself a potential hero to sing about.” Elaine struggled to stand, her legs shaking from the lurching deck. “When I saw you, I knew you were something special,” the bard admitted.
James grimaced. ‘I’ve seemed to get that a lot. Maybe I should start looking into concealing my presence.’ He would have plenty of time for that later. As of now…
“Dimitri, where’s the nearest trading outpost?”
“There’s an Olafson outpost not too far from where we’re at,” Dimitri called out from his map and compass.
“Good. We can drop off the stowaway over there,” James voiced.
Elaine’s face turned to a deathly pale. “Wait! No! You can’t just drop me off!”
“I can and I will.” James waved off her plea.
The bard stepped up to the young clan leader, her hands clasped together as she begged, “James, wait! Let me come with you all! I can offer my services, I know castings, buffs, and—”
“I already have enough on my plate as it is. The last thing I want is someone like you tagging along and slowing me down,” James coldly stated.
That seemed to upset the bard. “I won’t be a burden! I’ll just be a passive observer, that is all!” Elaine sounded desperate. James wasn’t sure why she was so damn insistent, but he knew better than to have another crazy person following him around everywhere. There was also the potential danger and the threat of retaliation from the orcs and hawk clan.
“Passive observer? Look, I already have someone stuck to me. Having another will only make everything a pain in the ass. I’m also broke if you can’t tell, so paying you is impossible.” James’ words struck Elaine in a way he didn’t expect.
The bard’s eyes lit up. “I can help with that! I can make you the money you need! I know of a way that can make you mounds of silver.”
James raised an eyebrow. Back on Earth, anyone with common sense would recognize the get-rich-quick schemes. James himself felt like he was staring at an email that was currently explaining how he could make thousands selling quality steak-knives.
“Sure you do,” he muttered.
Elaine’s expression faltered at the accusatory tone. She quickly shook her head. “No no no! It’s no deception!” The bard nervously laughed. “I swear, it’s completely earnest.”
‘I really don’t want to trust her…’ James thought to himself.
‘Neither do I, but I don’t think she’s lying,’ Faust stepped in regardless.
‘Why do you say that?’ James asked.
Curiously enough, the spirit didn’t seem all too indifferent about the woman. ‘From my time in the legion, I recall bards making their fortunes singing and recounting the stories of legends and famous heroes. They had a lot of popularity among the common populace. People, believe it or not, tend to get bored with the daily routine,’ Faust explained.
‘You think she’s telling the truth?’ James asked.
‘I think she truly believes she can make the coin. Whether it’ll work is up for debate.’
The young clan leader sighed in frustration. “Dimitri,” he called out. “Keep our course for Yorktown.”
“Oh thank you, you won’t—” Elaine’s relieved response was interrupted by James, who pushed past her.
“Don’t make me regret this,” James warned. He didn’t have to look at the young bard to know that her expression of excitement was gone.
----------------------------------------
Deimos breathed in the fresh air, which carried the scent of cooked meat and ashy flames. The men were cooking lunch; it seemed. Once he finished with business, he intended to have himself a piece. The Red Death looked to the orc nearby, the disgusting savage drooling blood and saliva out of its broken teeth.
“I will ask you this again, orc.” He crouched. “Where is this vault?”
“I told you! I don’t remember!” The greenskin shouted fearfully.
Deimos clicked his tongue. “Not the words I was looking for.” He stood up, his hands reaching for the orc’s other ear.
“Wait! Please! I really don’t know where it is!”
“It would help to quit babbling. It only makes me more irritated,” Deimos muttered as he grabbed the orc’s soft fleshy lobe.
The orc seemed to panic even more. “Wait! Wait! I know something else!”
“Unless it involves Yorn’s old vault—”
“It involves the men who took over the island!”
Deimos stopped. He looked at the orc. “You didn’t mention visitors taking over the island.”
“I forgot! I’m sorry!” The orc admitted.
Deimos pulled at the ear. “Tell me now. Everything you know.”
The orc winced in pain. “Agh! I know these people came to the island, they came and ruined everything for Blood-Irk!”
“Ruined?”
“They free human prisoners, free Silas and other traitorous orcs! Ruined big feast!” The orc rambled.
“What else?” Deimos growled.
“They burned the whole island down. Destroyed the vault and took whatever was in it!”
“Who did it? Lumen knights? Other clans?” Deimos questioned.
“It was him! Dremor’s chosen herald!”
That made the Red Death blink in surprise. Dremor had a herald? That was impossible. The god of souls never chose representatives, and he never took part in mortal affairs. Deimos recalled his conversation with Blood-Kro, who mentioned a man who could control Dremor’s damned.
“Are you lying to me?” Deimos asked angrily.
“No! No! It was him! He had the eyes of the undead god! His skull was alight with blue flames! A Draugr! That’s what Blood-Irk called him!”
“Draugr…” Deimos trailed. The Red Death let go of the orc. He laughed heartily, his lips curling into a grin. Of course it was a Draugr. Of course, it was him. The orc only stared at Deimos with fear in its eyes. After a while, the chieftain let out a satisfied breath. “That will be all, orc.” He turned around to Ivana and her marauder guards, who were patiently waiting nearby.
“Kill it and dump the corpse into the sea,” he ordered. Ivana nodded and gestured for her men to do the deed. The two marauders hurried without hesitation. The orc’s sudden cry for mercy only lasted a second before it was violently silenced. Ivana caught up to the Red Death, keeping up with his stride.
“Draugr? Is it who I think it is?” She asked.
Deimos could catch the vitriol embedded in her words, no matter how neatly she put them. “Why? Do you want to kill him?” He pointed out.
Ivana scowled. “I believe we should set our sights on something besides him. He is below us. He does not deserve an ounce of your attention.” While she tried to keep civil, Deimos could sense her disgust with the mention of Holter. Ever since she found out about Yorktown, Ivana had wanted nothing more than to kill the blond man thoroughly and wipe the town off the map. Deimos’ choice to leave him alive and to even gift him a ship had confused her and even had her doubting his leadership.
Ivana knew better than to ask, of course, but Deimos already knew the burning questions she had on her mind.
“He is more than a peasant or common warrior,” the chieftain explained. “One day, you’ll understand exactly what I see in that strange man.”
“If you are right,” Ivana muttered, “then it’s even more confusing. Why would you assist a man who could very well kill you?”
Deimos stopped. “You act as if I’m the only one in his sights.” He turned to Ivana. “He is like a tool. A dangerous tool, but a useful one. Aiming it is all I need to do.”
The marauder woman looked even more confused.
“Again, one day, you will see what I see. Until that day comes, you must have faith.” Deimos continued his walk to the camp ahead, leaving Ivana behind. “I want you to talk with the men. Specifically, the ones who were a part of that prison barge. Ask if they’ve ever seen this ‘Draugr’. Once someone talks, we will plan our next move.”