"How do you know my name, fox-girl?" Svenn inquired, his voice emanating from the lips of the largest elkin teenager. The thirteen dead, now accompanied by Dave and Cedez, had just crossed through a shimmering gate from the enclosed room in the Bondsmen Guild to Rimzadria Estate.
"I know everyone's names, darling," Cedez replied with a mysterious smile, her eyes twinkling like distant silver-blue galaxies. "Name's Cedez Astra. I'm the Sovereign of Shandria."
"You lack the regal appearance befitting that of a monarch," Svenn observed, his gaze sweeping over the dark vixen with a hint of deep skepticism shared across thirteen pairs of eyes.
"She's a potential Sovereign of the city," Dave clarified, his tone a blend of admiration and understanding. "Sort of like a preordained one chosen by arcane magic to lead the city to prosperity in the future."
"I see," Svenn intoned. The elkin's eyes settled on Dave. "If you intend to use me as target practice, know that while these bodies are dead, I will…”
"Don't worry your thirteen adorable heads so much," Cedez purred. "You're not getting used as targets. You and Dave here will have a long and fruitful relationship. We just fibbed a little to get you for a silver. I don’t like spending money; it’s all part of the game."
"Which game?" the moldkin inquired.
“The game of the future Sovereign versus the highborn Lords of Shandria,” Dave said with a conspiratorial expression. This earned him a look from Cedez, a mixture of amusement and warning, as if cautioning him not to reveal too much of their grand political dance until Svenn was properly tested.
"Intriguing," Svenn mused, his voice a symphony of contemplation that resonated through the air like the echoes of a distant battle. "I am not one for politics, for my passion lies in the art of war."
"Oh? What kind of war?" Dave inquired. "I'm Dave, by the way." The ex-programmer extended a hand to the elkin nearest to him.
"He is Lord Dave, my first trusted knight," Cedez interjected a gentle correction that earned her a look from Dave.
"Svenn Ekström," the infected elkin replied, clasping Dave's hand with a cold, bony embrace that sent a shiver down the ex-programmer's spine. "Field Officer of King Gustavus Adolphus Magnus."
"Gustavus Adolphus…?" Dave blinked, his mind a whirlwind of memories and half-forgotten fragments of knowledge. A microscopic shard of a nameless ghost within him had read about King Gustavus, who ruled Sweden from 1611 to 1632 and was credited with the rise of the Swedish Empire. "You're from Sweden?!"
"I am," Svenn nodded, his voice a solemn elegy for a time and place long lost to the mists of being displaced from home. "A grotesque specimen of a rotund man brought me to this bewildering land with his vile ungodly magics after I died serving my King on November 6th of 1632 at the Battle for Lützen."
"The Dragon God-Emperor?" Dave blinked, his eyes wide with a realization of unexpected camaraderie.
"Yes, that is what the fat bastard called himself," Svenn confirmed, a note of disdain coloring his words like the bitter aftertaste of defeat. "I still had my own body back then. I collected a thousand teeth and gained a skill called moldmancy from the skull-wearing man at the Citadel gate as my reward."
Dave winced. Svenn was clearly a far more dangerous and capable soldier than he would ever be.
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“I did not like the city made from bone,” Svenn resumed his story, his voice a somber requiem that seemed to echo the horrors of his past. “It was a barbarous land ruled by a madman, unbefitting the sensibilities of a Stormaktstiden musketeer. The gruel and steaks made from human flesh served to us for months were highly unpleasant. Like many others who gained unique magic skills, I was collared, trained to understand that disobedience resulted in pain, and made to kill others for the amusement of the higher ranks. I killed many with the bone-knife in the death-match ring. Whenever I got a cut, this silver-white mold grew over it," Svenn pointed at his spiderweb-covered horns, a stark reminder of the brutal life he had been forced to endure. "After a few months of killing each other for gaining skill experience, we were put into a unit under the command of a high-level mage and sent on a mission to scout the nearby mountains."
Dave gulped, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he considered his own narrow escape from such a grisly fate.
"We encountered a small elk-men village and slaughtered them all. I was gravely injured by a poisoned arrow that started to rot my body from within. I could not go on and was left to die," Svenn continued, his voice a haunting blend of pain and resilience. "I crawled into a ruined house with these thirteen elkin whose minds but not bodies were devastated by one of our magi. As my body slowly rotted away, I clung to life, gradually changed, survived, and infected the mindless bodies near me, and became… thirteen.”
"Damn," Dave murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to process the enormity of Svenn's ordeal. "I also got summoned by that damn fat man after I died on Earth, but I somehow got my skill right away, and then a giant bat carried me over the mountains."
“What nation and year do you hail from?” Svenn inquired, a spark of curiosity kindling in his eyes.
“America, 2023,” Dave replied, his voice a bridge between their disparate worlds.
“Most curious,” Svenn mused, his eyes meeting Dave's. “What do you think of the deeds of King Gustavus Adolphus?”
Dave felt like he was being tested, as if his response would determine the course of their burgeoning alliance.
“King Gustavus was one of the greatest military commanders in modern history. His brilliant use of an early form of combined arms of pike, arquebus and musket was legendary,” he replied, his words a sincere tribute to the Swedish Monarch.
Svenn’s eyes lit up like the first rays of dawn breaking over a battlefield, and all thirteen elkin smiled widely. Dave had clearly captured the Swedish officer’s heart with his praise.
"How did you become a local Lord, Sir Dave?" Svenn asked curiously, his voice rich with respect and intrigue.
"I've made him a Lord," Cedez interjected, her tone a blend of pomp and authority. "You could be one too if you…”
"I have no desire for management of an estate," Svenn shook his head, his conviction unwavering. "For I am an officer through and through. Give me a musket or thirteen, and I will serve you well on the field of battle."
"A musket?" Dave smiled, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "We haven't invented those yet."
Svenn's expression shifted to one of surprise, the revelation sparking a fire of anticipation within him.
"Thirteen pikes will do just as well for now," Svenn acquiesced. "I'm well versed in infantry tactics, and I can wield these thirteen bodies quite effectively as a single unit. I've brought several oversized wolves down before challenging a caravan of mages and getting captured."
"We'll have to make some steel pikes first," Dave smiled. “Do you know how to make a musket? Would you be able to explain to a highly talented, medieval blacksmith how to make one?”
“I reckon I can try,” the moldkin nodded, confidence emanating from each of his thirteen forms. “I’ve disassembled quite a few during my life.”
“Perfect,” Dave declared giddily, excitement coursing through him like an electric current. “Come, I’ll introduce my lovely dragoness to you! Think you can help me make a few hundred armor sets using moulds?”
“Of course, Sir Dave,” Svenn agreed, thirteen heads bobbing in perfect unison. “It would be my pleasure to assist you in your modern warfare endeavors.”
“You and I are going to reinvent the Tercio formation,” Dave rubbed his hands, his enthusiasm infectious. “The local mages and beasts will be no match for our guns, germs, and steel!"
"I thought you two would get along, but this is going beyond my wildest expectations," Cedez looked between Dave and Svenn, a shadow of envy flickering across her eyes as she observed their rapidly blossoming Renaissance warfare-romance.