After Vivi and Athella had done their nightly training and left, I spent the rest of the evening using my new Appraisal 3 skill to check my stats and mana costs, and experimenting with Alchemical Recycling to make wheels for moving around. It was definitely faster, but also not as precise as my legs had been. On the plus side, once I had momentum, I could stop using mana to turn the wheels and just let inertia and gravity take over, which was definitely helpful. Until I had more mana capacity, it seemed like I did not have a one-size-fits-all solution for movement.
The next day started just the same as any other. The royal family came and sat in their thrones and listened to the seemingly endless procession of nobles, merchants, and peasants who came with their own gripes, complaints, and requests for punishments or rewards. The only thing slightly different was that Prince Edvald had his servant Mug with him. Have I mentioned Mug yet? He’s a goblin, and the prince’s personal servant.
By that, I mean he is the prince’s personal object for mental and emotional torture.
Mug isn’t often around, but when he is, the prince delights in berating, humiliating, and just inflicting small cruelties on him. It seemed the king and queen had a very ‘humanity-first’ mindset, and something as alien as a goblin didn’t register on their list of things to be treated with respect or empathy. Though, to be fair, they also didn’t treat most humans with respect or empathy either, so maybe they were just being fair? Either way, Mug was not having a good time.
The prince enjoyed sending him to fetch water or wine or food for each visitor, even the ones who were only before the king for minutes. By the time Mug would return with the requested items from the royal kitchen, the visitor in question would be gone, and Mug would get a swift kick to the backside and a sneering laugh as punishment. It was a stupid game, a game only a schoolyard bully could enjoy. Of course, the prince loved it, and the queen didn’t seem to mind it either. Only the princess seemed put off by it, scowling at her elder brother as he abused the floppy-eared goblin for his own amusement.
Stelheim was there as well, sitting in the chair the queen had provided him that marked him a special envoy of Germanen. He sat, smug and imperious, making noises that marked him as impressed whenever the king spoke. What a brown-nose. I swear that every now and again he would glance at me, but I hoped I was wrong.
Mug had just dropped a platter of cheeses and wines for a lower judge on the carpeted floor when everything inside the throne room exploded into action.
A small group of eight humans burst in through the door, holding weapons and wearing crude leather armor. They looked shabby and poor, their mismatched hide armor covering long, stringy limbs. Their weapons, on the other hand, looked not just sharp, but magically sharp. A smallsword glowed blue, an axe burned with fiery power, and a maul seemed to sizzle as it swung through the air. The leader of this group was a wild-eyed man holding a spear that sizzled and popped in his hands like it was electrically charged. He took a look around the throne room, then charged directly at the royal family.
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“DEATH TO THE FREISE FAMILY! DEATH TO OUR OPPRESSORS!” His cohorts charged, brandishing their weapons and screaming loudly. Unfortunately for them, the royal guard was less than intimidated. In a flash, there was a clashing of weapons, the royal guard and Athella battling with the group of rebels. The royal family hardly moved; to them, a group of unruly peasants screaming for blood was as common and exciting as a traffic jam. Annoying, but ultimately changing nothing other than how long it took to get to bed in the evening.
That is, until one man wielding a long dagger with green swirling energy managed to break through the melee and charge the throne. Athella tried to break free, but the man with the axe almost took her head off, forcing her to turn and fight. One of the guards who had stayed behind to run interference stood to face the man, but the man screamed as he dodged the guard’s halberd and kept running. His original trajectory had been straight down the middle of the room, but with this dodge, he was angled to pass right by me—and get straight to the princess.
Time slowed in my head as he ran, the dagger in his outstretched hand aimed straight at her. He had come for the king and queen but figured any royal would do in his desperation. Vivi was a spirited fighter; I had watched her wrestle with Athella often. However, this man was not holding back, and what’s more, Vivi’s style of fighting wasn’t evasive; she tended to take blows and give them back. That knife looked nasty; long, double-edged, and with a cloud of green miasma around the blade—even being nicked by that was definitely not what the doctor ordered. Vivi also wasn’t ready. Instead of her training gear, she was in a princess style of dress—poufy, puffy, sequined, and of course heavily restricting. It would take too long for her to even stand to defend herself, and her brother Edvald was too distracted watching rebels be cut down and clapping as if it was great sport.
All the factors led to one conclusion: Vivi was about to die. Maybe me being here had changed things, but it seemed she was one of those characters who was fated to die, like Uncle Ben or Kenny. It was sad, but it was unavoidable. There was nothing I could do. This was how she died, and I was just another passenger of fate, swept up in the tides of destiny. The circle of life, the great game, would continue with one less player. Lost to time, dust in the wind, her hourglass empty and her burden of life lifted. Farewell, Evelinda.
The magic welled inside me as Alchemical Recycling triggered, forcing my lid off as a banana peel materialized inside myself and launched directly in front of his lead foot as it came down, neatly tripping him. He tumbled forward, rolled twice, and landed on his back, the blade embedded in his own chest and the life fading from his eyes. I hadn’t thought or meant to. It just happened. Personally, I blame Void.
The fighting in the room came to a stop soon after, the rebels subdued by the guards and Athella, and all eyes turned to me. Edvald was the first to speak, his voice amused. “Correct me if my eyes deceive me, but that trashcan just vomited a banana peel to protect Vivi, did it not?” I wanted to deny it, but unfortunately, everyone in the throne room had seen it. My lid was still spinning on the floor!
Just like that, my illusions of quietly growing and slipping out in the dead of night were shattered.