CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Spoils of Victory

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“Are you frightened?” asked the tall woman standing next to him.

Bram glanced sideways at her, noticing the expectant look on her face. It was a face that was the spitting image of his although with far more delicate features.

“No,” he insisted.

This was a lie, of course, but Bram had learned to hide his emotions so well that not even his mother could tell what he was thinking.

“I believe you,” she said in her usual calm tone.

He wanted to believe she meant it but couldn’t bring himself to, because he knew that like everyone else in her court, the Sovereign had already lost faith in her seventh child.

Still, she offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach the corners of her face before she pressed her hand to the great stone door that barred their way. At the Sovereign’s touch, the lines of gold interweaving across its stone surface began to expel a brilliant golden glow. They emitted such a brilliant light that Bram was forced to close his eyes.

“Come along,” she called.

Bram opened his eyes and discovered that the great stone door had vanished. Beyond the now-open entryway was a spacious, high-ceilinged hall like the Sovereign’s throne room but carrying an atmosphere of solemnity much like the grand temples of the gods in the ‘Pure Light District’ of the capital. The Sovereign waited for Bram several steps beyond the door, her pure white gown seeming to glow as it basked in the ethereal light of the object waiting at the other end of the hall.

He took hesitant steps forward, his eyes widening as soon as he crossed the threshold. His gaze darted left and then right, hungrily taking in the sight before him like a child who’d stumbled into a shop of wonders. On pedestals of white marble were the old relics of the royal family, the vestiges of divine power and sorcery that past sovereigns wielded in defense of the Atlan Imperium.

“Do you want to take one…?”

It was a carelessly thrown comment that sounded like a lifeline to Bram’s ears. For any one of these treasures—the golden sword embedded in the rock, the black ring torn off the hand of a defeated dark lord, or perhaps the wand made from a branch of the continent’s eldest tree—might give even an ill-fated prince the power to compete with his rivals. But no, Bram couldn’t admit that he did want one of the Sovereign’s treasures for himself. To say it out loud would be admitting his weakness, which was the one thing he refused to do in his mother’s presence.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He wondered if she meant to torture him with the allure of power he couldn’t claim, but he failed to see any malice in her expression. Surprisingly, the way she gazed at him now seemed almost motherly and quite unlike the stoic facade she’d cultivated over many years of ruling.

“It is tradition that all the royals who come of age be judged by the gift the gods left us.”

Hearing the word ‘judged’ made Bram frown. He’d been judged enough in his short life.

“Come.”

Despite the length of the hall, it didn’t take them long to arrive at the end of it, where, floating upon a high dais, was an otherworldly thing that exuded such powerful magical energy that Bram’s entire body tingled.

“Do not be afraid… The Dawnlight Stone is the guiding light that gives our family the mandate to rule over the imperium.”

Floating on the dais was a tear-shaped crystal larger even than Bram in size. Radiance flared from within its crystalline shell, a light resembling the pale blue glow of dawn.

“Let its radiance shine on you, and you shall be proven worthy of your new role.”

His mother’s voice sounded almost hopeful to Bram’s ears as if being recognized by the Dawnlight Stone was his last chance to be worthy of her affections.

“What must I do…?”

“Stand before the dais…and be judged.”

Bram did as she instructed—and then brilliant light consumed all before him.

---

Bram woke up with a start.

His breathing was ragged. Sweat dripped down his back.

“W-Where…?”

The memory of the recent battle flashed in his mind, causing him to sit up in a hurry. His hands flew to his neck in a vain hope of staunching the wound that must still be draining him of life.

“Wh-what…?”

Surprisingly, there was no wound to staunch.

“You drool when you sleep,” teased a familiar voice.

He glanced to his right and found Rowan sitting next to him. Her long skirt was ruffled, which suggested he’d once again used her lap as a pillow.

“How long was I out…?”

“Nearly half an hour.”

Considering Loveless’ claws had torn his throat open; thirty minutes seemed far too quick of a recovery time. After all, People didn’t often come back from such a grave injury.

“How—”

“—Did you survive?”

Rowan pointed to the fluffy white beast flapping its gossamer wings at the group of young sorcerers gathered around their two coven leaders. Sprite showered them in glittering stardust that healed their wounds even quicker than a healing gel could. When it finished providing first-aid, the elemental that Chris claimed looked like a fluffy French Bulldog landed on Ravi’s arms and buried its head in his chest.

“I would have saved you myself, but the Vice Master wanted to do it,” Rowan helped Bram to his feet. “It’s impressive how you can instill such loyalty in those who’ve chosen to follow you, My Prince.”

This was a compliment Bram never thought he’d hear. The other royals had inherited their mother’s undeniable charisma, with Bram being the exception. He had enough charm to woo a young lady of the court who didn’t know his identity, but once his ‘ill-fated’ moniker was mentioned, they would turn away from him as if he were beset by plague.

“I don’t have the talent to inspire others… Just ask those retainers who’ve left my side.”

“They were fools not to see what I can see clearly.” Rowan linked her arm around his. “You have undeniable charisma… You just didn’t know how to wield it before we met.”

Rowan nodded toward Ravi, who bowed his head deeply in Bram’s direction after noticing he was awake. To Bram’s surprise, all the surviving members of the Coven of Stargazers, including their master, Wilhelmina Weiss, followed Ravi’s example. The sight of such respect caused a lump to form inside Bram’s throat.

“See,” Rowan bumped her shoulder against Bram’s to lessen his shaking, “even an elemental of air has taken a liking to you.”

Sprite hadn’t bowed its fluffy head, but anyone could see the light of interest in its big glittering eyes as it gazed at Bram.

“Could you summon such a creature?” Bram asked.

“Ravi is a more talented summoner than I,” Rowan relented. “Though I do have the advantage when summoning humans from another world.”

Of this, Bram had no doubt.

From how Sprite yawned, it was obvious it had grown tired from healing everyone. Bram didn’t think the elemental could do much more before the duration of its summoning ended. Speaking of everyone, he noticed that his three companions were missing.

“Did they log out?”

“No.”

Rowan pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

“Our greedy otherworlders are helping themselves to the treasure the nymph left us.”

Bram followed Rowan’s thumb to the burnt husk of Loveless’ giant body—the parts of the great red pine the spirit discarded to escape the doom that Ravi’s ‘Falling Star’ dealt it—and to Hajime who stood atop its stomach while holding onto the thick hemp rope that trailed down into the husk’s insides.

“Ravi’s spell was quite flashy. Powerful too,” Rowan said.

“Though not enough to destroy the great red pine,” Bram replied.

This was the first time he’d seen it up close, but Bram had heard of ‘Falling Star’ before. It was a fifth-tier spell from the divination arts, which, like most offensive spells above the fourth tier—the so-called ‘Magics of Mass Destruction’ or M.M.Ds for short—should have obliterated a husk without the powerful nymph’s spirit protecting it.

“That’s not the spell’s fault. Something else had protected Loveless’ last host,” Rowan explained.

Bram frowned. “What could do that…?”

“We’re about to find out.”

On top of the giant corpse, Hajime struggled to pull the rope back up.

“Should we help him?”

“He can manage. It’s what we pay them for.”

The farming of materials taken from the slain corpses of their foes was a side of the great adventure Bram wanted no part in. No, he wasn’t a squeamish man, but he was a prince, and there were just some tasks a prince ought not to do.

Rowan, who understood Bram like an open book, giggled. “We do pay them a lot, don’t we.”

In terms of scale, Bram promised to pay them an equivalent amount of griffins to their monthly wages from their time with Biosoft along with the ‘stock options’ Chris discussed when they first broached the topic of starting a studio on Earth.

“Yes, we do.” Bram thought about the time they’d successfully turned a gold griffin into what the otherworlders called ‘digital currency’ with the Loom’s assistance, ensuring that an investment in Earth was indeed possible. “Remind me to fix the banking problem when we return to Bastille.”

“Another Earth adventure,” Rowan sounded wistful, “how I envy these children who can play in both worlds.”

Hajime eventually managed to haul Chris out of the hole in the corpse’s stomach, though he was breathless by the time the Texan climbed out. The added weight of a bag full of spoils probably didn’t help.

“Y’all need more exercise, Bud,” Chris lectured. “Maybe get a membership at my gym when we get home later.”

“Chris-San,” Hajime let out a deep breath, “when would I have the time to lift weights…?”

“I do.”

“Your job’s easier.”

“Those sound like fighting words.”

Bram, who’d drawn close by now, caught the beginning of their argument, which he knew was entirely Hajime’s fault. Even as the novice CEO of his new gaming company, the seventh prince knew better than to tell one of his employees that they weren’t working hard enough. Especially in an industry with a high burnout rate in which people die from overwork. Bram thought Chris was entirely justified when he push-kicked Hajime in his rear end and sent the Japanese man falling into the hole leading to the corpse’s insides.

“Chris-San!” Hajime screamed as he fell, “You…bakayarô!”

“Go help Bridget out and cool off!” Chris yelled back.

Satisfied that he’d won the argument, Chris climbed down the husk to greet Bram and Rowan.

“Problems?” Bram asked.

“Just some pent-up tension leftover from the fight finding an outlet, Boss,” Chris chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’re all used to high-stress environments.”

He dropped the large brown bag onto the ground and pulled out a full jar of thick white liquid for Bram and Rowan to inspect.

“Well done,” Bram said, though his voice was slightly muted by the handkerchief covering his nose. “This Nymph Sap can be sold for a hefty bag of griffins.”

Though he had a good head on his shoulders, Bram couldn’t have known the value of an item one could only harvest from a creature as rare as a forest nymph. Fortunately, the Loom made its details readily available to the seventh prince, doing away with the need for an appraisal by appraisers who usually charged steep prices for their services.

“I assume these are all materials”—Rowan’s nose wrinkled from the stench of the bag and Chris, who now looked like a cross between a butcher in a meat shop and a lumberjack who’d just cut down a particularly stubborn tree—“harvested from the nymph’s insides?”

Chris reported that he and Bridget had harvested jars of nymph sap and phloem along with skins of cambium and sapwood from the great tree’s innards.

“Bridget’s still working on cutting more logs of heartwood around its pith, which”—Chris glanced at the blue window floating next to him—“according to this here Loom is the kind of wood that makes for great armor or the keel of an airship.”

Bram, who could also see the floating messages around Chris, couldn’t help but be amazed at the detailed information the Loom provided the Texan about the value of the great pine’s treasure of resources.

 

 

Bram also noticed that this new information had no connection to the catalog Hajime and Bridget created for the Loom, suggesting that the system’s new item feature was also learning in real time.

“Could it be growing alongside its users…?”

As if to prove Bram’s guess correct, a notification popped up.

 

 

 

‘Finally…’ An excited grin flashed on Bram’s face. ‘I was beginning to think that gathering more users was the only route to growing my job…’

“I came out to harvest some of the corpse’s taproot,” Chris’ voice drew Bram out of his musings, “because the Loom says it’s an ultra-rare ingredient used for cultivating the physical body.”

“It is,” Bram agreed.

Sir Anthony had been feeding Bram Elder Treant Taproot since he was young. It’s one of the reasons the seventh prince grew to be tall and fit. He could vouch for a taproot’s powers of cultivation, though he’d never tried one from a nymph before. The thought of trying it once intrigued him greatly.

“I’m gonna need help to pry the roots off without damaging them,” Chris gazed pointedly at Bram, “so, why not put those muscles of yours to use, Boss.”

Bram’s interest evaporated instantly. “I, well, I’m a bit busy at the moment…”

“We’ll help,” said a youthful voice.

The teenage sorcerer with the tattoos covering his arms and the other young men Bram and Chris beat up had arrived to save the seventh prince from the possibility of manual labor.

Chris looked at Merak with mild concern. “How’s your head, Kid?”

“Much better now that I’m free to think for myself,” Merak replied.

He bowed his head to Chris, and his friends mirrored him.

“Thank you for rescuing us,” Merak said.

Chris scratched his nose as if he were embarrassed. “Y’all should thank the prince. It was his idea to go and save you.”

They didn’t need Chris to tell them this obvious fact. One by one, the four young men bent their knees to Bram and then pledged themselves to the seventh prince’s cause—and Bram couldn’t help responding to them with the same conviction they showed him.

“I accept your oath and swear not to abuse the loyalty you’ve offered me,” he promised.

It was a solemn moment broken by the loud yawning of the fluffy creature now riding Ravi’s shoulder.

“They insisted on serving you even if the coven decided not to,” the Shamvalan said, pride filling his tone.

“And have you decided?” Rowan asked.

“Yes,” replied another.

Master Mina stepped forward with the help of a tall, pale-skinned girl with plaited dark hair. The girl looked like the coven master, though her eyes were blue like Ravi’s. Bram recognized her as the young sorcerer Bridget had choked into unconsciousness with the string of her short bow. As for the Stargazers’ coven master, she looked so much like Loveless that Bram couldn’t help glancing away for fear she’d gaze at him and know how cruel he’d been to play with a mad nymph’s affections.

“Your Highness,” Master Mina called, forcing Bram’s gaze back on her.

There was no hate or judgment in her expression…only gratitude.

“The Vice Master told me of your agreement…” Master Mina’s voice still sounded weak, though there was also a strength to it that wasn’t present before. “It is not an easy task you ask of us…”

Bram’s brow creased.

Of course, he knew that the coven’s acceptance of him wouldn’t be guaranteed, but he hoped they would give it more consideration before rejecting him like so many others have done.

“I doubt saving us from our foolish choices was an easy task either,” Master Mina continued.

Hope fluttered inside Bram’s chest. Could it be possible that he’d guessed wrong?

“Aunt…you’re still injured.”

The dark-haired girl tried to stop her, but Master Mina waved her off. Without aid, the pale-faced, green-eyed woman bent the knee to Bram.

“If we cannot return the great favor you bestowed on us then we should have perished alongside the nymph who’d lost her heart.” Master Mina placed a hand over her left breast. “I, Wilhelmina Weiss, Fourth Master of the Coven of Stargazers, Sorcerer Extraordinaire, Twenty-Third Diviner of the Delphyne Observatory, retired Guardian of the Sovereign-Guard, pledge my fealty…”

She glanced left and right, taking in the gazes of her disciples who all nodded as she looked at them. With their agreement, Master Mina’s green-eyed gaze flitted back to the seventh prince so she could continue her pledge.

“…and that of the Coven of Stargazers to Bram Lothaire of House Attilan, Seventh Prince of the Atlan Imperium, Governor of the Kingdom of Lotharin, Eorl of Bastille, and to the great undertaking that is your cause…”

“I…”

Bram’s fingers tightened on the handle of his new sword. Pain flared out of his right hand as Dusk’s bright blade blazed to life. He placed the flat of its blade two inches above Master Mina’s shoulder, taking care not to hurt her with the weapon she’d given him.

“I accept,” said the seventh prince whose heart was full for the first time in a long while. “From here on out, we walk the same thorny path…and may our light never dim.”

“May our light never dim,” they all repeated.

Even Chris and Rowan. They were all caught up in this exciting moment.

Then, right on cue, a new notification flashed in the air.