Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 40 - Freedom is earned - Part One

 

Thanks to Dar’s prolonged intervention, the enemy’s offensive stalled and slowly turned into a rout.

 

Through a combination of enemy troop movements and barrels of holy water being upended over the outer walls, the surrounding bog was quickly devolving into an outright swamp. The weaker wild undead dissolved into nothingness before managing a handful of futile swipes at the outer walls and gates.

 

The undead amongst the enemy reinforcements had refrained from committing to an attack, instead mustering outside of the range of the siege engines while small squads of Thralls tested our control over the outer walls. Largely ignored by the wild undead still streaming towards the walls, the Thralls were nonetheless inevitably picked off by Archers whenever the former grew too cocky.

 

All the while, our forces directed the majority of their attention inwards and towards the quest objective.

 

With a full complement of Synergies and a platoon of Spearmen and Swordsmen as support, three Rangers captured and opened the gate of the inner wall and allowed a second major offensive to purge the battlements and seize control of the firing positions that had been harassing everyone moving about the lower walls.

 

Heavily outnumbered, the Thralls on top of the castle walls were picked off in short order, leaving only a handful of fast-moving combatants to haunt the shadows atop the castle. Fast but incredibly inaccurate, the Vampyrs quickly became a subject of loud and joyously maintained mockery by the Archers and Rangers as they exchanged attacks from a distance.

 

Suspecting that this mockery would almost certainly translate to Vampyrs waiting in ambush so they could settle the score, I decided to take a more proactive approach and began battering down the outer castle gate myself.

 

Testing the iron-banded gate doors with a few practice swings of my mace, I was surprised to find that I was able to leave deep indentations in the wood and even cause it to splinter after a couple of strikes.

 

*Splosh*

 

Suddenly wet and thoroughly confused, the stench of rancid meat was my only warning as a guttering torch fell in front of my eyes.

 

*Fwoom*

 

Staggering away from the gate in shock, I felt my skin begin to burn as I was enveloped in flames. Panicking, I dropped to the ground to try and rolled to try and smother the flames, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. Driven by fear and desperation, I began clawing at myself with reckless abandon, only vaguely aware of heavy impacts landing against my arms, chest and legs.

 

Continuing to roll, I lost track of time. Forced to experience each terrifying moment in excruciating detail as I felt burns growing more intense and my skin melting away.

 

While trashing, I felt my right foot connect with something hard, when my foot kicked out in the same place again, I felt nothing.

 

Prompted by a desperation fueled epiphany, I gathered mana into my hands and slapped them together as hard as I could manage.

 

The rushing air stung my burns horribly and caused them to throb painfully in its absence, but I was relieved to find I felt no worsening of the burns themselves. Which was good, or incredibly bad.

 

*Thwack*

 

Something hard impacted my right shin and left a fresh throbbing ache in its wake.

 

Snarling in anger, I risked opening my eyes and grimaced at the sight of my burned sickly green flesh. Having lost less than a handful of HP, I felt ashamed of how I had been driven into a panic so easily.

 

Shame quickly gave way to anger.

 

Taking up my mace, I stomped back towards the gate doors, doing my best to ignore the concerned shouts of the Asrusian soldiers in the immediate vicinity and the falling rocks thrown by the Vampyrs up above.

 

Gathering a full quarter of my mana into my mace, I changed my mind at close to the last moment and struck the wall instead.

 

*BOOM!!!*

 

A hail of broken stones erupted from the castle wall prompting a minor collapse in the surrounding area and the exposed large empty room on the other side.

 

“PURGE THE CASTLE!” I snarled bitterly, “AND FLOOD THE DUNGEON WITH HOLY WATER!!”

 

I was in no mood for a fair fight and was eager to repay the Vampyrs for my humiliation, it was only as an afterthought that I gave Marco permission to leave the castle.

 

Stomping back down to the building I had claimed as my temporary home, I waved away the Surgeons that wanted to treat my burns. I had already healed half the damage inflicted by the burning oil, and after having spent so much mana I was in no mood for wasting more. Besides, the Surgeons’ mana could be put to much better use healing the soldiers.

 

Scrubbing myself to some semblance of cleanliness required boiling fresh clean water and making use of it while it was still at least warm enough to help dissolve the putrid animal fat still coating my skin. Splitting my time between eating and washing, I did my best to ignore the new darker patches of skin that took the place of the burns.

 

My armour and Thick Hide Racial ability had prevented all but a handful of ultimately mild burns. Despite the initial pain, which had perhaps been exacerbated by bacteria in the rancid fat, the damage itself had been quite minimal.

 

A crisp knock came from the ruined wall beside the canvas tarpaulin-covered hole that served as the door to my residence, “Majesty?” Called the Colonel deferentially, “There is a matter of importance I would like to discuss when it is convenient.”

 

“Come in,” I grunted. By no means ‘decent’ by Earth standards, my underwear and magical beaded loincloth had escaped my immolation and panic stripping undamaged and would have to do.

 

One of the junior officers accompanying the Colonel lifted the tarpaulin so the Colonel could enter.

 

Entering my abode, the Colonel took a moment to scan its near emptiness before wrinkling his face disapprovingly, “Majesty, more suitable accommodations can be-”

 

“I am fine with what I have,” I interrupted, scowling as I continued sorting through my armour assessing the damage I had done to it.

 

“As you say Majesty,” the Colonel acquiesced, “Majesty, how should the captured Thralls be handled in relation to the existing military hierarchy?”

 

I honestly hadn’t given any real thought to it. A part of me sort of hoped that everything involving the Thralls would just resolve itself. “Do you have a proposal?” I asked stiffly.

 

“Several, Majesty,” the Colonel confirmed, “Extensive observations have confirmed that the majority of Thrall combatants have been given at least basic combat training. Temporary integration of the Thralls as recruits in the existing hierarchy and promotion based on merit and ability would be the most optimal solution if the Thralls are to later integrate as free subjects of your Majesty.”

 

“Subjects?...” Seizing control over the Thralls' Enslavement had been convenient in the moment, and the atrocities of their masters had made it easy to justify using the Thralls to exact vengeance on their masters in turn. However, the reality of the Thralls' pre-existing relationship with the Vampyrs had made putting them in harm's way that much easier.

 

It was fucked up and I knew it, there was no moral justification for what I was doing.

 

“Full integration and assimilation for those who earn it,” I agreed. A maelstrom of conflicting emotions threatened to dominate my thoughts, so I cut them off with a question of my own, “Why were the Thralls wearing Slave Collars?”

 

The Colonel nodded grimly in understanding, “Your Majesty suspects a trap?”

 

I wasn’t but I motioned for him to continue.

 

“To the best of our understanding, Thralls are bound to the Vampyr that created them. When that Vampyr dies their Thralls are divided amongst the Vampyr’s progeny. This process could repeat several times, but if there is no Vampyr to inherit them then the Thralls are released,” the Colonel explained before growing somewhat hesitant, “We have interviewed a number of Thralls using your Majesty’s authority to compel truthful answers and have learned that Thralls without a master are executed...” He shifted uncomfortably, “Harvested-” The Colonel amended, “-However without guaranteed reinforcements, the commander of the central fortress had the masterless Thralls enslaved with Slave Collars to avoid undesirable attrition in the short term.”

 

“So they were going to die anyway...” I observed dourly.

 

“That is our current understanding, Majesty,” the Colonel agreed.

 

Rather than providing comfort, the Colonel’s confirmation only made things more complicated. There was also still the issue of Ushu. Far more intelligent than I would have expected, it was still uncertain if Ushu was a Variant. Without a second Blighted Drake Patriarch for a comparison, I only had the minor differences with Cooper to support Ushu’s assumed Variant status.

 

To make matters more complicated, removing Ushu’s Slave Collar wouldn’t guarantee confirmation either. Already profoundly aggressive in response to his treatment at the hands of the Vampyrs, Variant or not, there was a very high chance Ushu would go on a rampage. However, his rage may actually be a sort of confirmation. From my limited observations, Cooper was far more docile under the influence of the collar, resembling the wild monsters the military reserved for use as cavalry, albeit with occasional flare-ups.

 

“Has there been progress in flooding the dungeon?” I asked, trying to focus on something more productive.

 

The Colonel firmly nodded, “Several weaker Vampyrs have been intercepted attempting to flee the dungeon. However, there are concerns that flooding the dungeon might render the coffin inaccessible. Are you certain we should continue, Majesty?”

 

“No,” I shook my head distractedly, “I trust your judgement.”

 

The Colonel bowed and saw himself out.

 

With the allotted time for seizing the fortress slowly passing by, I decided to be more proactive in gauging the Vampyr commander’s capabilities.

 

Ascending the hill and questioning some of the soldiers about the location of the dungeon, I began gathering almost all of my remaining mana together.

 

*Tingling*

 

Appearing on bent knee, Ophelia’s most recent minor Evolutions were more prominent. Exposed slits in the back of her copper breastplate allowed her six opaque scythe-like wings freedom of movement. Similarly, Ophelia’s copper spiked crown exposed an almost completely translucent halo beginning to form around the crown of her head.

 

Deciding to keep it brief due to mana constraints, I pointed to the castle beside us. “The Vampyr commander has a coffin located in the dungeon below the castle. You will be summoned again to deal with the threat, so if you believe you are outmatched, focus on reconnaissance. Do you understand, Ophelia?”

 

Ophelia bowed her head lower, causing tresses of her hair to fall down the sides of her face, “I understand,” Ophelia replied quietly before getting to her feet and revealing her recently adjusted height. Close to eight and a half feet tall, Ophelia had come to dwarf even the tallest of the Asrusian soldiers.

 

Entering the castle with long predatory strides, Ophelia’s presence caused many of the on duty soldiers to avert their eyes. The fallen Angel radiated a sense of otherwise unexplainable danger that caused lesser beings to shy away from her.

 

Although it was interesting to see that a number of soldiers were making steady progress through their own minor Evolutions. Their progress had been less pronounced than I initially expected, gaining less height in favour of seemingly more robust constitutions overall.

 

Determined to wait outside of the castle, I found myself staring at the distant enemy encampment. They had no fires or other lights, but dark fortifications drew my attention all the same. With no truly accurate numbers to work with, the current estimate on enemy forces outside of the central fortress was holding at roughly twelve thousand strong.

 

It was a sort of worst-case guesstimation the Colonel and his advisors had arrived at by assuming the enemy had made as efficient use of the portal as he would have done. Looking upon the scale of the defences being erected and reconciling it against the small amount of time that had passed, I was inclined to agree with the Colonel’s reasoning. In spite of Dar driving back a major offensive, the enemy still had no shortage of men, and endlessly throwing Dar and Ophelia into the meatgrinder was not a sustainable battle plan.

 

Each death they experienced would bring them one step closer to a coma or irreconcilable insanity as their memories erode and become corrupted. It was why I was giving Ophelia her best chance at surviving each summons by flooding her true self with mana to push her Evolution beyond the scale of her potential enemies. Even so, it was clearly taking a toll all on its own.

 

I made a mental note to have Wraithe remove Ophelia and Orphiel from their enforced stay at the hospital.

 

I wanted to keep the people I cared about safe, and the same extended to the people who placed their faith in me. However, I was making a lot of decisions that continued demanding sacrifices of those same people, and I felt like I was going insane trying to justify my actions.

 

My excuse of the Asrusians being too weak was countered easily enough by my presence. Seizing control of the Drakes and Thralls had been ‘necessary’ in the moment, and keeping them Enslaved was far safer and ‘convenient’. There was a line somewhere amidst the mess of decisions I had been making, and I had crossed it without even thinking about it.

 

What concerned me most was that it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would, or as I had originally believed it should.

 

It was obvious that I had a number of decisions to make, and that procrastinating those decisions was creating messy and emotionally draining compromises after the fact.

 

The more I thought about it, the more I believed the Colonel had the right idea. Integration in exchange for service. I had already made a similar compromise with the Wild formerly Enslaved Mountain Orcs. So why not take it a step further and have those serving the enemy prove themselves before earning a peaceful retirement.

 

Serving the enemy might not have been their choice, but without some form of investment and proof of character it would be too easy for a spy or worse to inflict harm on those I wanted to protect. So long as I wasn’t actively pursuing beings to Enslave, it was a compromise my conscience could live with.

 

Beast-type Variants were a more complicated matter. Possessing an intelligence part-way between human and animal, it felt just as wrong to hold them in slavery as it did with any other person. The problem was whether the Variants would abide law and order, or feral instinct.

 

Failing to arrive at an acceptable solution, I was drawn from my internal debate by the sudden dispersal of Ophelia’s mana.

 

No doubt far from a coincidence, the Abbot and militant priests arrived less than a few minutes later and began making their way toward the dungeon.

 

The soldiers on duty moved to block them, but I waved the soldiers down so the Abbot could take his followers below.

 

There was something off-putting about them, and I wouldn’t be profoundly disappointed if they didn’t survive.

 

Leaving the castle behind, I returned to my dwelling and prepared medical treatment for Ushu. Washing down the huge Drake as best as I could manage, I began removing the barbed javelins anchored in his hide and dressing the wounds so Ushu could rest in relative peace. Thoroughly tired from expending most of my mana, I made sure Ushu was fed before retiring to my improvised bed.

 

Little more than a pile of straw with a canvas sheet thrown over it, the small amount of comfort it provided was enough to allow me to fall asleep without problems.

 

[ 2d : 2h : 59m ]

 

Waking up sometime later, the presence of the timer confirmed that the Abbot and his priests had failed.

 

Thinking somewhat more clearly now that I was well-rested, I realised that the Abbot’s failure was a bad sign.

 

Capable of temporarily taking on Ophelia’s characteristics through the Warlock Class, the Abbot also possessed a magical weapon that specialised in fighting the Vampyr. Similarly, the priests that had accompanied the Abbot were a mix of Summoners and Pact Binders. With such force multipliers, and the foreknowledge of the environment afforded by Ophelia, the Abbot and his priests should have had the best chances of anyone defeating the Vampyr and destroying his coffin. That they hadn’t was the cause for my unease.

 

In the best case scenario, they had defeated the Vampyr commander and retreated after being unable to destroy the coffin. Or perhaps retreating after incurring a couple of losses. Losing the Abbot’s magical sword would be nothing short of problematic at this stage in the siege.

 

Hearing shouts coming from the nearby section of the outer wall and the distant flapping of leathery wings. With the majority of my armour too badly damaged to serve its purpose, I quickly donned my helmet and snatched up the closest of my maces before rushing outside.

 

A dark shifting cloud was gathering in the distance, releasing squeaking chitters that reminded me of the Vrabbits from the Hurst Labyrinth’s first floor.

 

Somewhat familiar with fruit bat migrations that had passed near my old home on Earth, I could tell that the distant bats were far larger than they otherwise seemed. At least the size of a small child, the bats were more likely closer in size to an adult human, excluding their wings.

 

Climbing the wall, I was confused to find that there were no immediate signs of other enemies. The enemy was still focused near the northern gate and the bats were gathering to the southwest.

 

Climbing down from the wall, I hurried over to Ushu and removed his saddle. I had no immediate intentions of riding him, and the saddle would just restrict his movements.

 

Having also heard the bats, Ushu remained hunkered down in the street. Only instead of resting, the giant Drake looked ready to pounce.

 

Soldiers and Thralls alike had begun taking up positions atop the inner and outer wall.

 

The bat swarm was now headed towards us at incredible speed, surging through the sky and forming a thick blanket of bodies as the swarm headed directly for battlements of the outer wall.

 

Standing exposed on the outer wall, I took a moment to check the strap holding my helmet in place but paused as I felt hundreds of enslaved beings suddenly enter my sphere of influence. I hesitated for a handful of seconds as I debated whether or not I could remain in control of Ushu even after shifting the Thralls to the Asrusian officers.

 

That hesitation allowed close to a thousand more bats to enter my range, and more were still coming. Almost too late, I now realised that this had most likely been intended as a trap directed specifically towards me. That, or the enemy was attempting some form of confirmation for why the collared Thralls had all turned.

 

Dispersing the mana I had been subconsciously gathering, I shifted my weight to ensure my footing and waited.

 

The efforts of the Archers and Crossbowmen felled a multitude of the man-sized bats, but it wasn’t nearly enough to break their suicidal charge.

 

*Crunch*

 

I only managed to hit a single bat before a tide of bodies began crashing into me one after the other. Each impact against my exposed chest or stomach would drive a little more air from my lungs and make me that much more anxious to take a breath I was not being allowed the opportunity to take.

 

Even so, dozens of the giant bats had maimed or outright killed themselves by recklessly crashing into me. So far as I could tell between flinching, I had lost less than three HP by simply letting them hit me.

 

That revelation gave me the confidence to try and gauge the effects the swarm was having on the other defenders.

 

It wasn’t looking good, besides Ushu, who was gleefully snapping at any bats who drew too close, the majority of defenders were hunkered down or had taken cover and were now only taking opportunistic snapshots.

 

Worse still the enemy appeared to be on the move and headed for the north gate.

 

Slowly moving along the wall towards the north gate, I could now see a ragged line of enemies breaking free from the main host and sprinting towards the gate on all fours.

 

Knowing there would be no way the Colonel would be able to hear me above the chittering and screeching of the giant bats, I began gathering my mana and crossed my arms protectively over my chest as I took a deep breath. “THE ENEMY APPROACHES THE NORTH GATE!!!” I roared, my voice cracking like thunder and leaving me deafened with blood running down my ears.

 

As an unintended side effect, the bats appeared to be similarly distressed, swarming with no coherent purpose and haemorrhaging members to the stone walls.

 

To my immense relief, Asrusian soldiers began streaming towards the north gate. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a little too late.

 

Pale bodied hulking corpses with thick claws and distended jaws had begun tackling soldiers off the wall and into the street below.

 

Most soldiers seemed to possess the wherewithal to Shadow Step out of immediate danger and buy enough time to defend themselves, but others were not so lucky and had their jugular torn out before being repeatedly dashed against the ground.

 

The pale bodied hulks who lost their intended prey immediately shifted targets to overwhelm and rip apart the prey of their peers.

 

Disgusted, I leapt down off the wall and charged.

 

Far faster than they looked, the first pale hulk swiped at my exposed chest with a bloodcaked claw.

 

[You have successfully resisted {Paralysis} effect]

 

My mace turned the hulk’s head into a nearby building into a Jason Pollock painting and drew the attention of the growing number of pale hulks in the vicinity. Somewhat thankful I couldn’t hear their retaliatory howling or gurgling roars, I took a calming breath and swatted a hulk aside before it had the chance to claw at my exposed arm.

 

However, a flurry of alerts streamed through my peripheral vision as something struck me from behind and was joined by an ally before I had the chance to even glance over my shoulder.

 

Increasingly concerned that I wouldn’t be able to resist the paralysis indefinitely, and what would happen once it took effect, I stiffly lurched to the side and slammed my mace into the chest of another hulk.

 

Barely phased by the blow, the pale hulk with a concave chest leapt up towards my throat with its tooth-filled maw opened wide.

 

I slammed my helmet into its face as much on instinct as pragmatism and felt its skull crack before the hulk was thrown to the ground. However, fleeting contact with its body still elicited a fresh set of alerts informing me of having resisted the paralysis.

 

Swatting aside the other hulk, I had no time to follow up the attack with a lethal blow. I was now fully engaged against a dozen or more of the pale hulks put firmly on the defensive.

 

Arrows and bolts would sporadically enter the melee, but for the most part, I was on my own. Any soldiers who attempted to intervene would either be driven off or torn apart after succumbing to paralysis.

 

Barely injured, I was growing increasingly anxious as the hulks continued outflanking me and grappling me from behind, triggering streams of notifications that reminded me my luck could run out at any moment.

 

I felt it before I saw it, as heavy familiar vibrations passed through the ground.

 

My mace had been torn from my sweaty grip and I was wrestling with three of the pale hulks in order to keep them away from my throat. That was when a pale scaled pair of jaws descended and chomped one of the recovering hulks in two.

 

A wet intense series of vibrations passed over my skin and was even powerful enough to knock loose one of the hulks.

 

Lunging forwards, Ushu crushed one pale hulk underfoot while dashing apart another with his foreclaws and decapitating a third. The fortress was still inundated with giant bats, but Ushu paid them little mind, casually swatting a couple of dozen to death with a swipe of his tail, and collapsing a few buildings in the process.

 

Pulping a pale hulk with bare fists I threw the other beneath Ushu’s left foot as he continued stalking forwards, feeling a profound sense of relief as the undead monster was turned to gristle.

 

After recovering my mace, I was even more relieved to find that Ushu had cleared out the remaining pale hulks or otherwise driven them into hiding.

 

For his part, Ushu was in the process of regurgitating the contents of his stomach, and I couldn’t blame him. Apparently thoroughly famished after emptying his belly, Ushu continued along the road and renewed his earlier activity of opportunistically seizing bats in his jaws and swallowing them whole.

 

Noticing movement out of the corner of my eye, I was drawn towards the north gate. Seeing the doors shudder, I realised that the enemy must be attempting to batter it down. Rushing over to the gate, I did my best to brace my full weight against the doors, pressing hard against the iron banded beam.

 

Another blow crashed into the other side of the gate and sent intense vibrations through my entire body. A few moments later, another blow crashed into the gate, and then another, and another.

 

With no idea how the greater battle was going, I could only hold fast against the gate and hope that the enemy or at least their siege engine was destroyed before the gate gave out. While the bar was holding strong, the banded wood of the gate doors themselves was showing signs of cracking.

 

Bracing my back against the beam so I could give my arms a rest, I was surprised to see the Abbot and five of his priests making their way over with a makeshift sled of what appeared to be building supplies. However, there was something more off about them than usual. They were far too calm given the degree of chaos taking place around us and as I continued to observe them. They seemed to be immune to the attention of the bats, which would swoop and dive past them but never close enough to land even an indirect attack.

 

Looking at each of them in turn, I realised what had triggered my paranoia, one of the priests was not registered as my subordinate and I was unable to review the information of the other priests or Abbot.

 

Reaching out to Ushu, I directed him to attack the imposter.

 

Ushu halted his extended ambush of the giant bats and slowly turned around. His large nostrils huffed at the air and his eyes narrowed as they locked in on the target. Baring his teeth, Ushu lowered into a predatory crouch and began his approach.

 

Given Ushu was about as subtle as a brick thrown through a window in the middle of the night, the imposter almost immediately recognised something was up. The procession came to a halt and the imposter stared at the approaching Drake for a handful of seconds before turning to look at me.

 

A stream of bats momentarily obstructed the space between us, and in the time it took me to blink, the imposter was standing in front of me with a mocking smile on his lips. Stolen robes flapping as he lunged towards me with a cruel barbed dagger, I barely had time to wince as the tip of the dagger raced towards my groin. However, time seemed to slow as the blade of the dagger grew closer to its goal, before coming to a shaking stop less than an inch from the beads of my loincloth.

 

The imposter looked confused and angry, his lips curling in a snarl as he muttered a curse I couldn’t hear.

 

Intending only to buy some space so I could think, I swatted at the imposter with the back of my right hand, unintentionally knocking his head off of his shoulders and dashing it against a nearby wall.

 

Blinking in surprise, I failed to read the kill notification that appeared as the imposter’s body collapsed to the ground.

 

Ushu continued towards the Abbot and priests, his baleful eyes locked on the sled of building supplies. The Abbot and priests moved to intercept the giant Drake, but he ignored them. For whatever reason, the holy men were not using their Class Abilities. Ushu bowed his head and smashed the horn on his snout into the sled, sending wooden debris flying and a large stone coffin tumbling down the street.

 

The Abbot and priests scrambled to chase after the stone coffin, but Ushu was significantly faster. Chasing after the coffin, Ushu brought the entire weight of his right hindfoot down on the coffin, causing the stone surface to crack. Repeating the action a couple more times, Ushu casually swatted the panicked holy men away and snapped up the coffin in his jaws. After a few seconds of concentrated effort, the coffin broke apart and blood erupted out and over Ushu’s teeth and jaws.

 

[Mandatory Quest: Conquest! {Active}]

[Conquest! {Stage 1}: {Success}.]

[Conquest! {Stage 2}: Designate a {Totem} to officially claim the disputed territory and receive a reward. You must complete this task within 1h. All {Teleportation} will be enabled once the Quest is resolved. Good luck!]

 

[ 0h : 59m : 59s ]

 

The impacts against the gate came to an abrupt halt.

 

Ushu continued pulverising the broken chunks of stone between his jaws, gashing his mouth and tongue in the process but didn’t seem to care.

 

The bats began to flee in all directions, and Asrusian soldiers began reclaiming the streets, culling any crippled bats that were unable to flee over the walls.

 

Still uncertain if I could leave the gate, I decided to make the most of the reprieve and rest while still leaning on the bar bracing the gate. Knowing from previous experience that I would need to clean out my ears before my eardrums would have the proper opportunity to recover, I settled in for a long wait and picked up the barbed dagger so I could take a closer look at it.

 

[Cruel Barbed Dagger: Deals additional damage and applies additional {Bleed} when striking an opponent’s weak point. Requires Agility:18.]

 

I frowned and thought about the magical sword. It didn’t make sense to me that this dagger had a stat requirement while the other items did not. As best I could figure, the sword had a different requirement to balance it out, requiring faith in Ophelia or Orphiel in order to activate the item.

 

[ 0h : 47m : 22s ]

 

The Colonel, looking somewhat worse for wear and sporting a bandage over one eye, was accompanied by a Captain and Lieutenant when he arrived to provide some sort of report or make a request, I couldn't be sure due to my profound deafness.

 

I waved my arms to interrupt the Colonel, “I’m, deaf,” I said slowly, my tongue feeling several sizes too large. “We, need, a, Totem. Bring, one, to, me,” I pointed to myself and then to the castle before stiffly making my way up the hill.

 

The Captain followed me at a respectful distance, warily eyeing anyone who drew close. Given the unexplained betrayal of the Abbot and his priests, it was probably for the best, and I appreciated a pair of functioning ears being present.

 

Stopping outside of the castle gate, I somewhat reluctantly removed my helmet and began carefully dislodging dry crusty blood from my ear canals.

 

The Captain graciously offered his waterskin.

 

I nodded in thanks and flushed out my ears with the contents of the waterskin, only briefly entertaining the thought that the contents might have been a potent poison. The lack of odour or unfamiliar consistency made the thought largely pointless to pursue further. At some point I would need to clean out my ears so they could heal, which meant trusting the water I was given was in fact water. Better to have it over with now before paranoia amplified my stress into causing me harm through a perversion of the placebo effect.

 

The Colonel returned a few minutes later with a large block of stone being carried between a dozen soldiers. Clearly taking a leaf from the Vampyr commander’s playbook, it was obvious that the Colonel wanted the large block of stone to become the Totem of the fortress.

 

Approaching the large block of stone, I smirked as I saw that some effort had been made to carve the toothy smile into the large face of the stone. Mentally designating the stone as the target for the Totem, I became aware that I needed to choose a name for the Settlement. Uncomfortable with the idea of crowdsourcing a name with my impaired hearing, I tried to think of historical references from Earth that would fit the circumstance of securing the Foothold.

 

Drawing a blank for a few moments, two prime examples came to mind. Although neither truly fit as a direct comparison, A vague sense of latent patriotism compelled me to choose Gallipoli over Normandy.

 

[Mandatory Quest: Conquest! {Active}]

[Conquest! {Stage 1}: {Success}.]

[Conquest! {Stage 2}: {Success}.]

[Determining degree of success...]

[Acquiring rewards...]

[Congratulations! You have completed {Conquest!} and will now receive x1 {Settlement Overseer} and x13 {Minions}. Standby for immediate delivery!]

 

A somewhat rotten looking chest appeared at my feet with a pale-skinned man in dark robes sitting atop it. With the majority of his features hidden beneath a shifting veil of shadows, his corpse-like appearance immediately registered him as an undead in both mine and the gathered soldiers’ eyes.

 

Even so, I felt no overt hostility, only calm acceptance and patience.

 

Bowing his head, the dark-robed figure slowly removed himself from the chest and stood on his own two feet. Enough of my hearing had returned that I was able to tell he had not spoken, but it did little to alleviate my nerves.

 

Holding both hands up as a placating gesture, the dark-robed man gathered a small amount of mana and coalesced nearby shadows into the form of a small white-feathered raven. The raven flapped up onto his shoulder and turned one of its beady eyes to face me directly. “My Tyrant,” the raven croaked, “I have no ill will towards you and your servants, and endeavour only to serve you to the best of my capabilities.”

 

“A familiar?” One of the soldiers guessed hesitantly.

 

“Of a kind,” the raven replied with a hint of amusement, the dark-robed man’s shoulders rising and falling slightly as if silently chuckling to himself.

 

“Who and what are you,” I demanded, deciding to test the creature with something I could easily check for myself.

 

The dark-robed figure pointed to himself with one long thin finger, “I am a Lesser Wisp my Tyrant. You would perhaps better recognise my kind as a possessive Spirit of the dead?” The raven croaked, “I am unable to control this borrowed body sufficiently to allow speech, so my Shadow Servant speaks on my behalf.” The white raven bobbed its head curiously for a moment and eyed the crate before returning its attention to me.

 

I narrowed my eyes at the robed figure, “You are an undead Necromancer,” I observed coldly, earning widened eyes from the soldiers.

 

The robed man’s head nodded in agreement. “I am, my Tyrant,” the raven stated unremorsefully, “But I must insist that I am in fact a Grand Necromancer thanks to your patronage.

 

The rising anger inside of me was making it difficult to think clearly, “Why shouldn’t I destroy you?” I demanded quietly, infuriated that the Mournbrent Labyrinth seemed just as keen to mess with me as the Hurst labyrinth had done.

 

The dark-robed figure shrugged. “I have no defence for my existence or choice in vocation,” the Raven drawled while hopping on his shoulder, “But if I am correct, I can assume you have a reserved hatred for undead my Tyrant?”

 

I curled my upper lip in a snarl and growled.

 

The robed figure nodded, “Then it should provide my Tyrant with the consolation that a number of Abilities unique to my Class can in fact be leveraged to great effect against the undead rather than creating them. It should also come as some small measure of comfort to my Tyrant that Wisps do not prey upon the living. It is the souls of the foul and corrupted that give us succour.”

 

[(Racial Ability: Ethereal Being): Immune to physical and {Environmental} attacks and effects when in {Ethereal Form}. Can engage with other Ethereal Beings at will.}]

 

[(Racial Ability: Soul Essence {Rank 3}): Can recover MP from the {Souls} of the dead. Special: {Attuned to Darkness}: Feeding upon {Impure Souls} increases MP recovery relative to the {Soul/s} degree of {Corruption}.]

 

[(Racial Ability: Limited Possession {Rank 5}): Allows the {Possession} of a {Soulless} corpse at the expense of persistent {Mana Drain}. {Willpower} reduces the persistent {Mana Drain}.]

 

While technically not a lie, the Wisp hadn’t exactly told the full truth about its soul-consuming ability. It was incentivised to go after the corrupt, but appeared to have no reason not to go after the innocent if it was convenient to do so. However, it did have one Class ability that could prove useful in fighting the undead.

 

[(Class Ability: Lesser Cowl of Undeath {Rank 0}): Expend MP to render a designated target undetectable to {Lesser Undead} up to {Short} distances. {Intelligence} reduces the persistent {Mana Drain} on the allotted mana.]

 

Just the same as Hana, the Wisp, named Wisp according to his Status, was level zero, apparently having accepted a free Class Promotion as part of its bargain for being assigned as an Overseer.

 

“There are other more combative Abilities,” the raven continued, “But I will need time to earn them anew.”

 

As much as I hated undead, I was forced to concede that Wisp might in fact be useful. “You will not serve as Overseer, not until I am confident you can be trusted,” I insisted, wanting to gauge how Whisp would react to the sudden demotion.

 

“Most acceptable,” the raven cawed as Wisp’s borrowed body bowed its head respectfully, “I agree that I have not earned such a privilege and responsibility, my Tyrant.”

 

“This is your campaign Colonel,” I pointed to the Colonel for extra emphasis, “Nominate someone you trust to serve as Overseer over Gallipoli while we press deeper into the Labyrinth.”

 

The Colonel nodded and remained silently thoughtful for a few moments before nodding confidently, “Captain Spiers, Majesty. I believe she will prove equal to the task of serving as both administrator and Commander of Gallipoli.”

 

Taking a few moments to cycle through the Pride of Asrus registry, I promoted the Captain and then turned to Wisp, “You are to serve at the Colonel’s direction until I say otherwise, understood?”

 

The robed figure nodded and so did the white-feathered raven.

 

“Good,” I grunted and turned my attention to the crate. Already aware that there would be eggs inside, I opted for seeking out some privacy before opening it. Lifting the chest up and cradling it in one arm, I was a little surprised that the chest was sturdier than it looked.

 

Ushu was still patrolling the main road and scavenging an easy meal, but Shady, the Goblins and Serpent-Kin’ had all returned and were in the process of licking their wounds.

 

A little annoyed that they weren’t seeking treatment from the Surgeons, I made a mental note to Summon Wraithe and request she pay a personal visit to make sure no one was going to die of a hidden infection. Two Goblins and one of the Serpent-Kin had died since arriving in the Mournbrent Labyrinth. While it may have been what they said they wanted, I was still hoping that I would be able to bring the rest of them back alive after destroying the Liche.

 

Removing the lid of the chest and exposing the eggs inside had an immediate effect on the formerly despondent crowd. With all eyes drawn to the chest, the Goblins and Serpent-Kin scooted closer and stared wide-eyed at the eggs in a similar fashion to how a homeless person might stare at a brick of gold bullion. Caught between disbelief and a deep-seated desire for possession, the Goblins and Serpent-Kin couldn’t bring themselves to look away.

 

Recognising I had an opportunity to send the revenge-driven mob home to Sanctuary, or at the very least keep them farther from danger, I slowly pointed to the small earth coloured eggs in the chest, “They will require parents to care for them,” I stated bluntly and tried not to grin as paternal instincts openly began warring against the mobs desire for revenge.

 

One by one, the mob capitulated, wiping the warpaint from their faces and meekly waiting to see how I would proceed.

 

After having the existing mated pairs separate from the group, I allowed them to each claim and imprint upon one of the eggs before allowing the others to do the same. Because some of the single members had elected for joint custody to better protect their charge, one egg remained.

 

Just as I was wondering what should be done with the final egg, I realised that the Captain who had been serving as my protective escort was standing guard outside of the door. “Captain?” I called quietly, drawing the attention of the newly expectant parents as they joyously caressed their eggs with unreserved affection.

 

With visible embarrassment, the captain entered, his helmet held under his arm and a guilty grimace on his face as he stared determinedly at his feet, “Majesty?”

 

Actively searching for the Captain’s records, I discovered that his name was Morgan Willowbrook, named for the Settlement he had likely chosen for his eventual retirement. Married, with no children, and looking to be closer to seventy than sixty, it was rather obvious why he had followed me to my temporary home.

 

Wondering if perhaps the conversion into a monster had somehow awoken the same paternal instincts as the Variants, I decided to test the Captain with a question, “Captain Morgan, would you raise a child of another species as if it was truly your own?”

 

Captain Morgan looked surprised and momentarily taken aback. Quickly gathering his wits, he nodded fervently, “It has been the dearest wish of my wife and I to raise a family, but...” He cringed, “I...I failed her, and adoption laws prevent soldiers from adopting...I am close to retirement now, but my wife has informed me that orphans have become a scarcity of late...” perhaps realising he had gotten off track, the Captain blushed before nodding firmly, “Ah, yes, I would, Majesty.”

 

With no real idea what was inside of the eggs, it would be a true test of the Captain and his wife’s resolve. There was every possibility the egg might contain a wart covered troll or something. How would they react to that?

 

“Very well,” I nodded with exaggerated self-importance, “For services to the crown, I grant you the boon of adopting a ward of the state and an early retirement into the reserves,” I carefully lifted the muddy brown egg from the mouldy straw and held it out towards the captain, “Just gather mana io the tips of your fingers, or your hand if you can’t quite manage, and then gently press against the egg,” I instructed.

 

Almost on the verge of tears, which I chose to assume were in gratitude rather than just anxiety, Captain Morgan shakily reached out with his free hand and pressed it against the egg. Taking on an almost pregnant glow in his cheeks, Morgan smiled broadly and scooped the eggs from my palm before cradling it close to his armoured chest.

 

Practically swarmed by the other expecting parents who were offering strips of rag and segments of blanket to help protect and incubate the egg, it gave me something of an idea. The Regent already wanted to integrate Settlements with other monsters, both for social as well as military reasons. So why not use this as the opportunity to do so? In the best case scenario, the Captain’s military background would curb the worst of any prejudice towards the Goblins and Serpent-Kin’ due to their shared interest in raising and protecting children of the same species. All while promoting better cross-species relations.

 

Since Willowbrook was a Settlement on the southern Sanctuary border and possessed a fully functional gateway, it would be easy enough to change the living arrangements if truly necessary. So with that in mind, I left the Captain behind and began looking for the Colonel to inform him that the Captain would be retiring from the campaign a little earlier than expected. Given the nature of today’s victory, and the current number of reinforcements flooding the Foothold, I doubted he would mind all that much.

 

*****

 

Thrikit sniffed at the air and continued stalking through the grass, his every instinct finely tuned to subconsciously cycle his movements through the most effective motions to enhance his stealth. Although somewhat inhibited by his baggy tunic and pants, Thrikit was more than able to compensate with his long dexterous fingers and toes, even generating misleading rustles in the grass at a relative distance with his whip-like tail.

 

Filtering out the polite chattering of the guardians posted nearby, Rikin twitched his large ears for any hint of sound that might give away his opponents. Unfortunately, they were almost as talented as Thrikit himself, so he heard no sign of them. Similarly, they had also smothered their scent by exerting tight control over their pheromone glands. It was a trick they had all stolen from Thrikit the day before.

 

All the same, Thrikit had a new trick up his baggy sleeves and only needed to wait in order to take advantage of it.

 

*Thwip*

 

“Eek!” The cry came from a short distance ahead and to Thrikit’s right, signalling that one of his opponents, most likely Grelin, had fallen for one of Thrikit’s traps. Almost always hungry himself, Thrikit knew his opponents would not be able to surrender the opportunity for additional food. All Thrikit had needed to do was allow his thick wiry black fur to be brushed without resisting, earning an additional delectable hard sweet thing before being allowed outside.

 

It was the broken pieces of the hard sweet thing that Thrikit used to bait his traps. Slowly closing in on the sounds of distress, Thrikit’s whispers twitched in amusement as he witnessed Skrill taunting the ensnared Grelin by slowly eating the hard sweet thing in front of him.

 

Much like himself, Skrill had dark but not quite black fur and beady black eyes. Smaller than Thrikit by a full third, she was slightly more nimble than he was, and her guardians allowance for her to wear tighter fitting coverings made Skrill Thrikit’s primary opponent. However, due to her indulgence in taunting Grelin and savouring the hard sweet thing, Skrill didn’t sense Thrikit until it was too late.

 

*Tak*

 

Thrikit’s tiny stone bounced off the back of Skrill’s furry head and eliminated her, much to Grelin’s apparent amusement.

 

“Y-y-y-you g-g-g-g-get!” Grelin stammered excitedly, overjoyed at accidentally not being the first eliminated.

 

*Tak*

 

Thrikit threw another small stone to shut him up, accidentally revealing his position to Skrill in the process.

 

Rather than give his position away to any of the others that might be lingering nearby, Skrill twitched whispers, bobbed her head and then dashed for the watching wall with the piece of sweet hard thing clutched in her sharp teeth.

 

Grelin was left to free himself.

 

A simple snare trap Thrikit had learned by watching the clan hunters in the morning, he had just needed to scale the trap to a size more appropriate for his opponents.

 

One by one, Thrikit eliminated his opponents in silence, finishing with Rhess, who was usually Skrill’s rival but had lasted much longer due to Skrill being eliminated early.

 

Although somewhat irritated at losing, Thrikit noted that his twelve opponents were much less angry with him after eating the hard sweet thing. So he decided to keep it in mind for the next time he was able to get more.

 

Engaging in some wrestling to maintain his dominance, Thrikit made sure not to beat the others too badly. Already somewhat disliked for being better at hide and find, the others would lose respect if he didn’t allow the others to sometimes come close to winning. It was a delicate balance and it wasn’t lost on Thrikit that Skrill behaved much the same.

 

So long as they all avoided using their claws and sharp pair of front teeth, the guardians would content themselves with watching. It made their contests for dominance and rank much more complicated and initially quite difficult to enforce. Foose had refused to accept defeat many times, disrupting hide and find until he was taught a lesson and forced to swallow sick sap while the guardians were distracted.

 

From then on collective retribution served as the default enforcement for their contests rules and was why Thrikit was incredibly careful to avoid going too far in any given contest. As big and strong as he was, Thrikit knew he could not win if two or more of the others committed to fighting him. However, this was also what made the contests so important. Every day, Thrikit was growing bigger, stronger, and faster, his ability to think and learn was increasing rapidly as well. The contests helped him grow andkept Thrikit sharp, and more than that, it made his guardians proud of him.

 

Sitting on top of the watching wall, Thrikit patted down his tunic and pants, retying the knot of his cord belt to make it less baggy. With his coverings settled, Thrikit wet his fingers with his tongue and ran them through the longer fur on his head, coaxing it into a uniform direction.

 

Skrill watched in silence and gave him a curious look, her own much longer head fur hanging like a scraggly mane.

 

“B-Be g-good, g-get h-hard s-sweet th-thing,” Thrikit chittered quietly, earning a surprised look from Skrill in return.

 

Skrill looked to the gathering of guardians and then back to Thrikit before trying to emulate what he had done. Unfortunately, her longer head fur refused to stay in place.

 

Removing his cord belt, Thrikit cut a length free with his teeth before retying the larger piece to hold together his coverings. Gathering Skrill’s head fur together, he managed to tie back most of it in a way he had seen smaller females of the clan wear their much longer and lighter head fur.

 

Skrill experimentally twisted her head this way and that, her elongated snout sniffing at the air as she twitched her whispers and ears.

 

Thrikit realised too late that he had inadvertently increased the performance of his chief rival. Without her head fur shrouding her eyes and interfering with her ears and whiskers, Skrill was going to become that much more difficult to both hide from and sneak up on.

 

Able to push back the remainder of her head fur by wetting her fingers with her tongue, Skrill had now completely negated her previous disadvantage. Worse still, it revealed that Skrill actually had ears slightly larger than Thrikit’s own, making her that much more perceptive while being so much harder to detect herself.

 

Despite not having thrown a tantrum in days, Thrikit was incredibly angry at himself. Terrified that Skrill would now begin beating him in the contests, he felt terrified of losing his guardians' pride and praise. However, before Thrikit could brood on the matter further, he noticed his guardians separating from the group and headed their way.

 

Refusing to miss out on a sweet hard thing in addition to his guardians’ praise, Thrikit excitedly swung his tail to show he was glad to see them. Much older than the other guardians, they seemed to struggle with detecting pheromones and subtle cues. All the same, Thrikit cared for them deeply.

 

Skrill awkwardly tried to copy him, but Thrikit tried not to let her bother him.

 

“Thrikit!” His female guardian exclaimed with pride, “You managed to keep your clothes all nice and tidy! And after rolling about in the dirt all morning too!” She scratched the softer fur behind Thrikit’s ears just the way he liked. “Oh, and who is this?” She asked with exaggerated curiosity, “This is little Skrill, yes? And doesn’t she look lovely today!” In an act of unfathomable betrayal, his guardian scratched Skrill behind her ears.

 

“Oh don’t be sour lad,” his male guardian chided kindly, “Don’t think I can’t see you were the one to tie her hair.” He pointed to Thrikit’s significantly shorter belt, “You’re growing fast, that's for certain, but not so fast as to lose half your belt overnight,” he chuckled again and ruffled Thrikit’s head fur affectionately, “You made your mother happy and just see if you don’t get a reward for it after dinner.”

 

Thrikit perked up almost immediately. His guardian was right, seeing his other guardian happy was a good thing and made his act of self sabotage more than worth it. However, watching as Skrill received a sweet hard thing retrieved from his guardian’s coverings, Thrikit’s restraint was sorely tested.

 

“I think you have had enough sweet things for one day,” his guardian apologised sympathetically, “But see if I don’t give you one tomorrow with breakfast for being so sweet with your little friend.”

 

Thrikit nodded to show he understood, “Th-thank,” he affectionately nuzzled his guardian’s hand before the pair of them returned to the other guardians to say their temporary goodbyes. Guardians had many chores to do throughout the day, so they often took turns watching Thrikit and the others.

 

Nudged from behind, Thrikit prepared himself to put on a brave face while Skrill gloated and ate her hard sweet thing in front of him. However, much to his surprise, Skrill had split the hard sweet thing in half and was offering him the larger piece.

 

“T-T-Take,” Skrill chittered nervously, making sure to avoid eye contact to make it clear this was not a challenge for dominance.

 

Somewhat perplexed, Thrikit accepted the piece of hard sweet thing and began to gnaw at it with relish. Made specifically by his guardian to test his teeth, the hard sweet thing was almost as ahrd as rock and tasted sweeter than tree food. His guardian had called it something else, but changed the name after Thrikit asked for another hard sweet thing.

 

After making sure to share some large crumbs with the others, Thrikit was about to lead them to their next contest when a female many times larger than himself and the others approached them from down the grassless path.

 

Instinctively aware that he stood no chance against a female of that size, Thrikit nervously waited in order to see what she wanted.

 

“You didn’t run, good,” the large female chittered approvingly, “Now hop off that fence and follow me. As of today, you will receive daily lessons so I can determine your aptitude and help direct your development.”

 

The others chittered nervously to one another and weren’t subtle with their pheromones either.

 

Thrikit had heard some of the words before but didn’t quite understand what they meant. However, listening to how the large female spoke like the guardians, he could only imagine how proud his guardians would be if he managed to replicate the feat.

 

Hopping off the watching wall only served to make it even more clear how much terrifyingly larger the pale furred female was. Before he could get too overwhelmed, Skrill boldly leapt down next to him, and after a faint trace of pheromones expressed the large female’s impatience, the other nine joined them.

 

“Initial results aren’t all that surprising,” the large female muttered to herself before glancing at Thrikit and Skrill, “For the most part. How many of you can speak?” She asked curiously.

 

Thrikit and Skrill raised their hands and a short while later the others did as well.

 

“Interesting,” the large female noted, sounding rather impressed, “Well then, you will refer to me as Wraithe. Now repeat after me, “I will always wash my front paws before I eat.”

 

Thrikit just stared blankly up at the large female, earning a terrifying glare.

 

“Every time you eat without washing your front paws, you are inviting enemies beyond counting into your body, any one of which could make you sick and die!” The Large female snapped, “Worse, you could make others around you sick as well! So wash your hands!”

 

Thrikit froze and stared at his forepaws, the unbidden image of his guardians collapsing in the street in front of his eyes repeating over and over. “H-How w-wash?! N-Not m-make s-sick?!” Thrikit demanded in a panic, horrified that he had been putting his guardians at risk.

 

Wraithe nodded sagely in approval, “Let me show you, you all have so much to learn.”