“We're all slaves to something. Even if we tell ourselves otherwise.” 

 

Chapter 2: Consequences Of Offending a God.

 

“Into the cell you go, sleep tight furry.” one of Victor's captors spat as two guards dragged his body into one of the many iron cells beneath the royal palace.

“Hey, maybe you should be careful how you speak to him.” the other guard whispered as Victor began to stir on the stone floor with a groan.

“Why? He can't do anything, he's de-leveled.”

“Still, nobles have a way of having long memories.”

“Yeah, well he ain't a noble anymore, just another pathetic Heretic. Check his title eheheh.” The guard snickered as the iron bars of Victor's cell clicked with a shut.

The pair walked away, leaving Victor to stir with a groan and sit up to stew in the consequences of his outburst. 

“Well… that went better than I expected.” Victor chuckled to himself as he opened his system menu.

 

[System User: Victor Fierce]

[Species: Human]

[Title: Heretic{UNABLE TO LEVEL}]

[Level: -174]

[Class: None]

-HP: 150/150

-MP: 130/130

-Stamina: 80/80

 

-VIG: 15

-END: 8

-STR: 13

-DEX: 12

-INT: 9

-WIS: 10

[PRIMARY SKILLS]: 0/4

-NONE 

-NONE 

-NONE 

-NONE 

 

[TERTIARY TRAITS]

-Infused with Holy Blood.

-Deft With Hands.

-Craftsmanship LvL 3

-Skilled One Bladed LvL 1

-Weapon Mastery LvL 1

-Craftsmanship LvL 1

And there it was, most of his stats diminished, his skills obliterated,  his blessings from his father gone, and a new title that would stifle any growth he could ever hope to achieve. 

“Damn…” Victor muttered, his stats now barely better than an average noble teenage human, if anything they were worse. 

He sat back, laying on the cobblestone wall to eye his new home of brick, iron bars, and a bucket for…excrement.

But, he was still alive, a point had been made, and he stood up for himself, so… two small personal victories.

All it had cost him was everything.

Well. I suppose I should get comfortable then.

Victor closed his eyes, laying down on the floor that was cold to the touch.

***

Days passed.

Each one filled by a routine that Victor quickly acclimated to.

In the morning, food, grey slop served on a tray. Sometimes it was sour, other times it was bitter, barely edible, but nourishment nonetheless.

Evening. Sleep. Uncomfortable naps on floors without furniture with his wedding jacket used as a pillow or if he was feeling spontaneous, sometimes as a blanket.

Nights were filled by… Well, more sleep with nothing for Victor to do than to twiddle his thumbs and daydream about fluffy girls and scallie women.

The other inmates didn't talk or make noise, although he could hear someone occasionally shuffling in the cell to his left, but beyond that, the person never spoke.

Still, Victor didn't regret his actions, rather, what he regretted was not being more bolder towards his father or doing so sooner. Especially when it mattered the most.

“Wake up Heretic! You have a visitor!”

Victor opened his eyes, the sight of an unexpected woman staring at him from beyond his cell door as a disgusted guard looked on.

“Oh god…” Destiny let out, the white haired nobleoman visibly shaken.

“Lady Valeria?” Victor said, his words shaking the woman from her stupor.

“L-lord Fierce,” Destiny whispered, her small hand covering her mouth twisted with abject horror.

“No longer a Lord, just Fierce,” Victor said, rising to greet the horrified noble. “A surprise to see you here, Lady Valeria. To what do I owe the pleasure of your esteem company.”

Victor gave a mocking bow, the clothes he wore stained, dirty, and lacking of the luster that the woman once remembered.

“I…” Destiny whispered, the timid woman struggling with her words before seeming to find resolve as tears brim at her eyes. “Thank you. Lord Fierce. I knew it was hard to call off the wedding. But from the depth of my heart, I thank you!”

“Oh, it's not a problem. Don't worry about it,” Victor replied as he gestured to the small cell, “Quite cozy accommodations once you get over the smell.”

“How can you say that! B-b-because of me-”

“This isn't your fault. Besides, this is nothing. Have you ever been to the slums?” Victor said, sitting back down on the floor with a yawn.

“The slums?” Destiny repeated with the guard scoffing.

“Right,” Victor said, ignoring the soldier, “You aren't from the Capital are you? The Valeria household is in the north quadrant right?”

“Yes, milord. I am humbled that you knew of it.”

“Well, the slums are in the eastern quarter of the capital. Outside the walls. It's a place of neglect that my father's light doesn't touch,” Victor said as he rubbed a finger against the dusty stone floor. “Lots of injured and wounded there that live in squalor. So this is basically a vacation haha.”

Destiny didn't seem convinced. “I-I see… but… to lose your position and skills, because of me. I regret sending you my missive.”

“Missive?”

“My letter!” Destiny exclaimed, “Did you… did you not receive it?”

“Of course,” Victor smiled, “But fret not. A loveless marriage is something neither of us would benefit from.”

“B-but to shift the blame and declare yourself a demi-lover, all for my sake! Truly… you have a heart of gold.”

“So I've been told,” Victor chuckled. “But marrying a human is tantamount to bestiality to me.”

“Nonesense! I refuse to believe you are such a scoundrel!"

“Then you must not know much about me.”

“But I am dedicated to learn! Though we may no longer be bethroved, I, Lady Destiny Illead Von Valeria, am pleased to meet your acquaintance,” Destiny said as she bowed her head. “I would do my best to see you are acquitted of your charges. I… I brought you something.”

Victor raised a brow, staring at the package passed between the cell bars. “Oh, neat.”

He reached out, opening the lightly wrapped package only for his jaw to immediately drop.

“Th-th-this! H-how? I thought they burned this?!” Victor exclaimed as he held the Monster Girl Mercenaries guidebook aloft. Although the cover was scratched over and the name covered by tape, it still bore the color-coded tabs and bookmarks he'd painstakingly put together.

“The maid named Matilda passed it along to me. She said that it would bring you great comfort. There has been much talk about your incarceration, apparently the commoners have made quite the ruckus!”

“Its nice to know someone cares about me at least. And your gift does help,” Victor smiled, not missing the once again obvious scoff of disgust from the guard, “Well, you'll gain nothing from associating with a *Demi* lover like me. You should just forget about me unless you want to end up in a cell.”

“I won't! I have already petitioned the Court of Lords and the Emperor to have mercy on your eternal soul.” Destiny said with such naive resolve Victor couldn't help but chuckle.

“Good luck,” Victor replied with sarcasm lost on the woman.

“Lady Valeria, your time with the prisoner is up.” the soldier nearby said, stepping into view of Victor's cell with scorn clear in his eyes. 

“But-” Destiny began to protest.

“Trust me my lady, nothing good will come from associating with a heretical traitor.”

“You should listen to him,” Victor added as he shut his eyes. 

“You were a great soldier once, a good leader, now look at you,” the guard whispered, his words laced with resentment. A moment passed, then another, with the ex-prince listening to the quiet shuffle of shoes and boots until they were no more.

“Yeah, well, it's not like we were ever the good guys,” Then Victor rose, opening his book to the pages left untampered within. “Matilda, I could kiss you.”

“Why didn't you tell her you didn't receive her letter?”

Victor averted his eyes from his guidebook to the gruff voice that came from the cell adjacent to his.

“So the mute speaks.” Victor replied, craning his head to the nearby wall before he went back to his book.

“Not mute, just observant.”

“So it seems. Why do you care if I lied to the woman or not?” Victor asked as he flipped through the pages to make sure everything was intact.

“Because in your voice I heard truths and falsehoods. Yet that which confounds my understanding is the falsehoods expected were actually truths.” the stranger responded.

Victor yawned, “So you have some kind of divination skill, is that it?”

“Divine enough to smell bullshit.”

At this, Victor smiled and finally looked up from his book. “I’m Victor blah blah blah Fierce, what's your name?”

“Prometheus.”

Victor pursed his lips, sitting up, “That… doesn't sound Apheriamite?”

“That's because it isn't. Now, are you going to tell me why you lied to the fair lady?”

“Wait! You're not a human?!” Victor shot up, his head facing the adjoining wall. “What-”

Victor paused, realizing he was being rude, before he attempted to piece together who or what he was conversing with.

From the inflection of the voice, it wasn't a slithern or any of the snake folk that populated nearby. And there wasn't any cackling common from the ratfolk. 

Drakon? Flaurel? Victor didn't know but he found himself eager to know.

“Answer the question.”

“I… didn't want to hurt her feelings,” Victor sighed. In truth, he had received the letter, but he had never opened it out of disgust of the arranged marriage.

He'd seen enough hollow words and false love from his sibling’s interaction with their spouses, the last thing he wanted to do was hear more.

“And your love for demi-humans? Not a lie?”

Victor chuckled, laying his back on the stone wall, “No, no it was not. Though some may call it obsession, heresy, or degenerate behavior, they don't realize that my interest goes well beyond that!”

“I noticed she arrived with a parcel and left without one. Pray tell, the contents within?”

“Something that would upset my father. A book on monster girls.” Victor proclaimed boldly.

“Fierce… A scion of Orlo Fierce?”

“Well, I can tell you definitely aren't a human,” Victor chuckled, “Most of mankind call him God Emperor or Emperor, but yes. Twenty third of his bloodline.”

“Shame.”

“Yup.”

“And you threw it all away to let the world know of your love of demihumans.”

“Right in front of the highest nobility in the land including my father.”

“Seems… Idiotic.”

“Perhaps not the best opportune time in hindsight, sure, but definitely my finest moment.” Victor replied with a laugh.

“You’re… proud?” the stranger asked, his question riddled with confusion.

“Why not? Nothing else I can be. I said my piece. Even at the cost of my reputation and status, but it's not like I was using either or for much anyway.” Victor replied as he ran his fingers across the image of a Vixexs and imaged the texture of her fur. “Hard to have a real social life when you're the son of a dictator. Everyone either bows to you or fears you. But… I stood up for myself, and I won't lie to the world about what I am anymore.”

“And your sentence?”

“Exile to a dirt realm most likely where they'll have me quietly assassinated, I doubt they'll publicly want to spill royal blood. Or they'll keep me down here in the dank musty corners with the rest of the undesirables while they do damage control. Either way, no more pretending to be something I'm not or having to worry about my siblings murdering me for a crown they'll never get,” Victor laid back down with his book aloft, “Yup. Peaceful life for me. Can't ask for anything more.”

“Yet, your words carry with them a falsehood.”

Victor slowly opened his eyes, the coldness of the stone floor somehow chiller to his skin.

“Am I wrong?” Prometheus goaded.

“No. No you are not.”

“Might I inquire what enraptured you so much as to deny your species?” Prometheus asked, his voice coated with hidden intent obvious to Victor, yet what that was, Victor didn’t know.

“Not what, who,” Victor corrected as he turned a page to the entry on fenrings. “Despite the decrepit values that my father tries to voice upon all of humanity, I know firsthand that demi-humans aren’t parasites on our society.”

“Ah, so it is love?”

Victor shook his head with a chortle, “Not THAT kind of love. But yeah… the closest person I ever had to a mother.”

Prometheus fell silent, the air that filled the space staler than Victor had realized as he stared at the image of a fenring woman.

“How did she die?” the stranger asked.

An audible swallow was heard from Victor before he responded. “By the system put in place to forever keep my father on the throne. She gave her life for me to survive… Yet all I’ve had to show for it was to be another cog in the imperial machine.”  

Victor inwardly clicked his teeth, wondering to himself why he was over sharing so much as his fist struck the nearby wall.

“Then tell me, twenty-third of Orlo’s line, what do you wish your life would be?”

“Heh.” Victor let out, realizing that in his entire life no one had ever asked him what he wanted to do. He stared at the images that showed the worlds outside of the Imperium. “I think… I'd like to see the world. Experience new cultures. Document and study the other species that live in them rather than consigning them to servitude or slavery. Adventure would be nice...”

“Is that all?” Prometheus asked, his voice neither accusatory or disappointed.

“I dunno… I’d like to change the imperium for the better, but… that won’t happen… Hm, maybe I'd like to meet the author of MGM, maybe he could tell me where he found a fenring,” Victor replied, flipping through the pages. “Of course for research purposes! They're very rare and I'm told their fur is exceptionally soft! But, since I'm depowered and branded, this might actually be the safest place for me.”

Victor chuckled before he released a sigh that did little to mask the pain of monotony in his tone.

Although… if he were exiled… though he'd probably die, it would at the very least be from underneath the imperium’s boot.

“So you've played MGM…” Prometheus let out a low laugh that sounded more like a cackle, “Oh Victor, I know what kind of man you are. Although your predecessor once possessed that naive zeal. That was before he ran into the wrong crowd.”

“Wrong crowd? What's that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that I was three hundred years too early in who I picked and shouldn't have chosen some random nerd at a gaming convention,” Prometheus replied cryptically. “A single choice that spawned a million catastrophes."

Victor craned his head to the side to lean on the adjoining wall. “So… enough about me, what brings you to this fine establishment? Certainly isn't the food? Unless… your species likes grey slop?” 

Silence was Victor's reply. 

“Hey? Are you there?” Victor asked, sitting up as he heard movement from the being whose steps shifted away from him. “Seriously? Right. Stranger danger and all that. Nice one-sided talk. I love telling random strangers everything about me.”

Two more days passed in isolation, the time spent with more naps, more reading, and thinking back on the only friendlyish voices he'd heard in days.

“Prisoner.”

Victor looked up from his book and stared at the trio of royal guards at the other side of the iron bars.

“So, it seems my father remembered I existed,” Victor sighed, closing his book. “So what'll it be lads? Execution or exile?”

From the annoyed looks in his captor's eyes, Victor had his answer.

“Well, let's get to it.” Victor said as the cell door opened and he stood up with his book to be ushered from prison by the guards.

Huh?

Suddenly, the guards ceased moving, the trio stuck in motion around Victor whose every movement felt like he was wading through water.

“Victor. You said you wanted to meet the author of MGM. I’ll grant you that wish, and another,” Prometheus whispered, his voice low yet heard keenly to Victor's ears as he turned his head towards the formless shadow behind iron bars that stared at him with crimson inhuman eyes. “Let's make a deal.” Prometheus said, holding out a card.