A few moments since the last chapter…

Tristain, Royal Capital, King’s Cup Tavern

 

Humans were a race that was born with the instinct to put everything in their mouths at least once. Toys for children had to be designed carefully to make sure that the parts couldn’t fit into their mouths and even then you would still see them lick it on occasion. When it came to food humans were a species that looked for new and exciting flavors everywhere. Things like haggis, moose nose jelly, pig’s blood cakes, tuna eyes, there were countless things humans had tried and found that could be tasty.

 

“The best hops only come from Hopponia, it is named for them. The damn things mold if they are grown anywhere else or they just don’t have the same bitter flavor.” Prince Valiant said as he took a sip from the beer in his glass mug. 

 

“I just enjoy drinking it… the more the better....” Ashton said with a smile as he swirled the remaining liquid in his glass before he gave it a sip before letting it fall back into his glass. 

 

Using this tactic he had only taken a small mouthful, just enough to calm his nerves and make him feel calmer. But to the people around him, it looked like he was also drinking right along with them.  Most of the different people had moved to their various tables and were moving from group to group as they tried to form new connections. Ideally, Ashton would be doing this too to leave as light of an impression as possible while still being able to attend the event, but he wasn’t able to because the Prince had remained glued to his side the entire time.

 

“The fact that you can import so much of them in itself is a boon to this kingdom, nowhere but Artollia can enjoy beer halls with this full of a selection!” Prince Valiant expressed as he took another sip from his drink.

 

“It is easier to drink… wine is too sweet… I don’t like sweet things…” Ashton replied.

 

It was a strange way of talking, Ashe often paused in his sentences and he talked quietly and slowly. This didn’t bother Ashe because no one had the gall to talk over him, but Ashton found it slow and inefficient. Over time he wanted to change it but he had enough distractions at the moment. Feeling something rubbing his back, it slowly made its way up to his spine and messed up his hair as it rubbed over his head before retreating. Knowing that he could only take a single servant to the gathering he chose the one who was capable of combat.

 

In the corner of his eye, he saw a long white tail with a blood-red tip floating around as if it had a mind of its own. The maid it was attached to was standing slightly behind Ashe as she continued chugging the fluid that was in her glass stein. The foam had coated her nose and as the glass became empty her tongue lengthened and licked the inside of the glass like a dog’s. Her normally pale skin was beet red and the blush extended down to her chest, her eyes were unfocused and a large grin was on her face.

 

“Lord Grayfield, Kumiho thinks this guy talks too much! He has been going on and on but he has barely drunk any of his beer!” Kumiho said angrily as one of her tails came down and wrapped the handle of her stein before stretching nearly forty feet(12M) and dunked the glass in bear before slowly making its way back to her outstretched hand dripping on the carpet along the way. A victorious smile crossed her face as she only spilled a third of the cup this time.

 

Ashton wanted to chuckle at this but he couldn’t when he thought of the cost of the carpet and that she wasn’t the only one carelessly spilling beer everywhere. On modern Earth, they had carpet cleaners, but he had a feeling that underneath the carpets would be large patches of mold. Several times he had kicked the corner of the rug only to find that the hardwood underneath it shined. Ashton noticed that the prince would give Kumiho a savage glance when she spoke before he would quickly put his mask back on and pretend that he had never heard her. 

 

Since she was considered Ashe’s property, he didn’t have any right to discipline her, since he was currently just a prince he wasn’t the equal of a Great House Lord like Ashe Grayfield. This meant that he could only bite his tongue but his anger had been slowly growing, he wondered what he had done to get on Ashe’s bad side but he seemed more interested in his carpet. The Prince was confused why he kept checking the edges of it and he could only conclude that he was looking for loose threads.

 

It was made from a type of cotton that had a light red hue that could live for several centuries after it was plucked from the plant and could absorb the liquids spilled on it for nutrients. It could absorb fluids, it was self-cleaning, and it had anti-fungal properties that prevented mold or fungus from being able to grow near it while it was alive. They were harvested by adventurers inside of the Forest of Tear's forbidden zone on the border of Artollia and Tristain. It was a lucrative business even though only a few handfuls could be produced by a plant in a single year but it was the only place that could grow the magical plants.

 

“Kumiho… you are also enjoying the beer… You shouldn’t say things like that….” Ashe said calmly as he faked another sip of his beer.

 

“Kumiho doesn’t know why people like these places! Why not just take the beer and go somewhere else? Who wants to watch adventures anyway?” She humphed and pouted as she began draining her glass.

 

Looking over he could see what he had thought was a mirror at first until it had started showing a scene on the other side of it. It had been following a group of five people in a carriage and it began showing them from the moment they disembarked. They were in a forest with tall trees and a canopy so thick that it obscured the light from the midday sun. The one in the lead was a man wearing heavy mail armor that had a dark cloth tied around it to obscure the sounds of his heavy footsteps and behind him was the rest of the team.

 

A man with dark brown hair and skin with long pointy ears was to the side in full leather armor that had tree branches and twigs attached to it to provide camouflage. A woman was running behind the night wearing dark leather armor and was carrying a crossbow on her back and a variety of different knives on her front. She had a large cloak that was made of a matte material that looked like plastic at first. A man wearing a short brown robe that came to above his knees was following the cloaked woman who had a tome at his side held by a chain and a flintlock pistol, a short staff with a metal cage over the gem was on his back that resembled a club.

 

Bringing up the rear was a woman wearing a nun’s dress and headdress covering her hair, the dark skin that was the sign of a night elf was revealed by her face and her hands. She did not wear a rosary and the dress had been shortened slightly to make it easier to run and it didn’t hang off the body very much. She had a tall wooden staff with a metal connector in the middle that allowed it to be broken down into two parts. The top of the staff contained what looked like Celtic knotwork that had been carved into a ring with various links connected to it.

 

They moved at a jog and seemed to be on high alert as they stopped on occasion and looked for tracks. Occasionally they ran into monsters but their teamwork was incredible and they rarely took any damage before they slaughtered the beast with ease. The warrior used a pair of swords and acted as the frontline, he was incredibly good at parrying blows and evading attacks. The elf provided covering fire with his bow while the strange cloak the woman wore allowed her to become invisible if she moved slowly enough. It was just like the optical camouflage in the movies and she usually moved crouched to reduce her profile.

 

The mage was usually further back than the man with the bow and he seemed to specialize in wind magic as he could send blades of wind flying towards his enemies. He would use long chants while moving his hands to produce unique signs that let off a glow that was light teal. It resembled sign language, something Ashton was only familiar with from watching the interpreter on the new translating what was said into it. It was almost more fun watching the sign language and he often missed important parts of what was going on because it was so entertaining.

 

His thoughts could drift away here because the priest was left to do almost nothing and was relegated to watching the perimeter most of the time. What he didn’t expect was for the party that had been mostly silent to start talking and for it to be heard coming through what looked like a small wind chime. The voices had a high and raspy quality that was common with early radios.

 

“Dammit! Why did we bring a priest, there is no way we are going to be the first ones to the quarry!” The black-cloaked woman yelled to the armored man angrily.

 

“I think another group might have made it first.” The elf reported as he crouched down at the front of the formation.

 

“Maybe we could give them a hand?” The warrior said as he walked up to where the elf was.

 

They had just crossed a small stream and the archer had found the footprint on the river bank. He had just walked out of some tall grass and they were facing a hill that had trees growing along with it. Brush and shrubs dotted the hillside and waist-high grass covered the base of the hill and receded only after the trees on the hill cut the grass's source of light off. The cloaked woman seemed to sense something was off and used her cloak to hide in the grass. 

 

“This is a terrible place to fight, it is so damp!” The mage complained as he tried to shake some of the water out of his boots. “I won’t be able to start the forest on fire if it is like this!”

 

The priest was following in the rear and she also stepped out of the tall grass near the riverside and into the shorter grass after a bit of struggling. She breathed a sigh of relief now that she didn’t have grass trying to pull her headdress off but this breath was cut short.

 

Crack! A musket went off in the distance and a burst of blood was issued from the priest's midsection as she grunted before falling back into the brush. The sudden gunshot followed by the cloud of black smoke from the rifle instantly alerted the adventurers to the shooter's position. The cloud of smoke was two hundred and sixty feet(80M) away almost at the maximum effective range of the weapon.

 

“Shit! I told you that priests are like a fucking windsock for bullets. They are guided straight to them!” The mage yelled as he crouched down into the grass with the rest of the party to hide.

 

“What do you want to do?” The elf called as he knocked an arrow.

 

“I paid that bitch a deposit and we know that she didn’t bring any money with her! We are killing these bastards and taking their shit!” The warrior said savagely as he drew a throwing hammer from under the cloth wrapped around his armor. 

 

Ashton was appalled at what he was seeing because he had thought they were going to help each other. The idea that they were all going to begin killing their fellow adventurers was shocking to him and he wondered if this was something odd. Turning to Kumiho he saw her watching the screen with anticipation as she was laughing and clapping. Seeing that the Prince was also focused on the skirmish he used the chance he had to ask her a question via whisper.

 

Her hearing was so good that he didn’t need to move away from his spot, he just whispered quietly enough that it could be mistaken as a silent muttering. “Is this normal?” 

 

The response he got was for her tail to brush his back, but this time it traced out a question mark. He thought that she might not have understood the questions so he tried rewording it.

 

“They are killing each other, why?” He whispered, but what he didn’t expect was to hear the answer from the screen.

 

The man who had fired the musket was wearing a green cloak that looked like camouflage from all of the different shades of green and brown that were splashed on it. The musket had a long barrel forcing the man loading it to do it standing behind a tree for cover.  He had just packed the musket ball into the musket using the rod that was stored below the barrel when he paused because he heard a twig break behind him. He turned in that direction for a moment before he began carefully walking towards some brush away from the sound, moving the gun to his back using a sling he drew a long curved knife that resembled a scythe blade.

 

“You gonna come out little kitten? I know you're out there!” He called mockingly. “You was making so much noise we heards ya comin a mile away and prepared this nice little spot for ya. Should make a good grave!”

 

“Screw you! The money is ours!” A shimmer briefly emerged from some of the grass to his side before a crossbow was revealed and a short stubby bolt was launched in his direction with great force. 

 

The cloaked woman did not even look in his direction after her shot was fired and moved to immediately reposition. She had just taken a few steps into the grass before she stepped on something and felt a metal plate depress before she heard a mechanical snapping noise.

 

Sna-a-a-a-a-a-p! Crunch! A square metal bear trap that used four springs and a lever-style catch to keep it open was set off by her careless steps. The weird ratcheting sound came from a set of guide arms on the side that featured the same teething that Ashton had only seen in handcuffs used by police. The effect of this was displayed when the cloaked woman began to desperately try to open the trap that was secured into the ground by a chain and a stake.  

 

“Arrrghhhhh!!!” She screamed as she used her hands on the sharpened metal edges but couldn’t find any purchase without cutting her hands on the serrated blades. 

 

This bear trap also featured teeth on both sides of it, Ashton could see that you would need a tool to set it without causing harm to yourself. In response to the call of the trap, the grass began to rustle and a line was quickly being made from small rapid footsteps.

 

“Cotton, she shot me! Screw her up for me!” The rifleman called as he began trying to push the bolt that had pieced below his ribs through his back to get it out. His voice was distorted as he had a small vial filled with dark red fluid in his mouth that was sealed with a ball of wax at the top.

 

“Hahahaha! The dumb bitch stepped in a trap!” A high-pitched voice cackled before the brush in front of the trapped woman was pushed aside to reveal the speaker.

 

The first thing that appeared was a barrel that expanded like a bell slightly at the end and was wrapped in rope to cover the shiny metal. Pushing further forward a gnome was revealed with a long white beard and flowing white hair that danced madly in the wind. White hair wasn’t an uncommon color among gnomes and it made some of the young ones appear old at times. On his back was a large backpack that, like the gun, seemed to be bigger than the gnome and he could see various metal contraptions sticking out of the gnome's backpack. He was holding the blunderbuss at the hip and raised the barrel menacingly towards her chest. 

 

Her crossbow was empty and she couldn’t use her daggers at this range without trying to throw them. Realizing that the elf with the bow wasn’t able to see the gnome due to the grass she decided to try to negotiate with him. “Wait! Please let me join you! I don’t want to party with these losers anymore!” 

 

“Sorry lass, our carriage is full!” The gnome said before he pulled the trigger causing the hammer to fall on the flintlock. 

 

After several moments nothing happened to cause the woman to continue holding in the breath she had sucked in. The gnome had a look of disappointment on his face and reached up with his thumb to pull back the heavy hammer before wiping it to remove the moisture and letting it fly forward again. This time a spark was ignited and the gun was set off sending a blast of fire and shrapnel out of the barrel that joined with blood from the woman as it hit her directly in the chest. Her body lit up like a pyre as the gunpowder that was still igniting from the barrel caught her cloak and clothes on fire.

 

The gnome, on the other hand, was sent flying backward from the recoil of his large weapon and right into the brush that was pushed out of his way by his large backpack. He began laughing victoriously until he fell in a patch of familiar bushes and felt something metal get pressed by his buttcheeck. 

 

Sna-a-a-a-a-a-p! Crunch!  A second trap was sent ratcheting off and latched onto his leg and butt as the serrated teeth tore into the cloth and rooted him in place and the heavy springs cracked his hip bone. Letting out a high-pitched wait he had to take several deep breaths to steady himself and fight his body’s reaction to try to free himself from the trap. Reaching behind him he started using a small hammer he had pulled from his backpack to knock a pin from the side that was holding the trap together using a small tap. 

 

“That was pitiful. He should have been more careful knowing he had set snapper traps there. Leave it to a no-brain gnome to come up with a strategy like that.” The Prince told Ashton from his side, noticing his gaze on the screen.

 

This comment from the Prince rattled Ashton further because now he was starting to finally get an idea of what all of the meaningless conversations about beer had been. Is he trying to butter me up? This thought passed through his head before he squashed it as useless. Until the Prince revealed his real motives, guessing would only create more fog that would work to obscure his actions. 

 

“Bahahaha! Wooo! Hurry and charge him!” Kumiho laughed out happily at the mirror on the wall showing the battle. 

 

The mage had used a spell to fire a blade of wind at the trapped gnome that had cut a swath through the grass and hit the gnome in the stomach nearly bisecting him and revealing the spine of the gnome through his shredded organs. He screamed a few times before he went silent and stopped struggling, but this didn’t help the mage any as the man with the musket had heard the sound of the mage’s spellcasting. The clap and roar of a musket were heard followed by a poof of black smoke appearing from the side of a tree on the hill.

 

The mage had been crouching with his head and chest exposed over the top of the grass when he was trying to get sight of the gnome in the grass. The musket had been aiming at the man’s chest, maybe it was the wind, but the musket ball had gone high and hit the center of the mage’s forehead. He had died so fast that his hands were still locked in the air from his spellcasting when he fell lifelessly to his back with a look of shock etched onto his face and blood dripping down from the hole in his head. This look of shock mirrored the one on the man holding the musket who then looked at his hands in wonder.

 

“I must have Ashe Grayfield watching over me! Hahahaha! Headshot!” The musket man laughed as he ducked behind the tree he was using as cover and began pulling the rod from his gun to start cleaning it and loading a second shot.

 

Hearing grass crunching and breaking from a charge heading towards him, he cursed before he tossed the half-loaded musket to the ground and drew his large knife. An angry bellow could be heard yelling curses and condemnations at his partner.

 

“Dammit! Armoless! Why aren’t you using that damn bow you are so proud of?”The armored man called as he drew his swords and rushed the tree where the musket fire came from. 

 

“It’s the cock sucking wind!” The elf cursed out angrily as he tried firing an arrow at the fleeing man who dropped his musket.

 

The arrow was immediately grabbed by the strong wind and lifted high over the fleeing man's head and towards the sky where it floored for several moments before gravity pulled the arrow leisurely to the ground next to the priest’s body. Getting angry at the family heirloom he threw it on the ground with some annoyance. When the first guns appeared a little over a hundred years ago the elves scoffed at them and considered them dirty and useless on a battlefield. But guns had been steadily improving and the bow had been slowly becoming weaker and weaker as a weapon on the battlefield.

 

The sound of grass rustling from further up the hill could be heard and soon footsteps could be heard following them. These were heavy and it didn’t take long for a beastman and a man wearing a thick white coat with a black leather apron over his chest. He had a mask over his face that looked like a bird’s beak, the thick smell of herbs came from his body. The beastman looked like a lion with a thick mane and mail armor similar to the other warrior, instead of swords he was wielding a large two-handed ax. On the back of the beastman was a large bundle of freshly collected fur from a large monster that was still damp from being removed.

 

“Abel, what happened to Cotton?” The man wearing the bird mask called with confusion as he followed behind the beastman.

 

“They ghosted him! Almost got me too!” The man called as he retreated behind the beastman.

 

“We got our prize, let’s kill them and go!” The lion man called as he dropped to all fours and began to charge at the other warrior with his ax on his back.

 

Damnit, there are more of them! Armolas! Get your head in the game!” The armored man yelled angrily at the elf.

 

One thing that everyone seemed to hate was that one friend who could call, come over, or send a message right during the most intense scene of a movie. The Prince seemed to be having issues controlling his aggravation when he realized that he was being ignored by Lord Grayfield and constantly told to bugger off by the maid he refused to discipline. He decided to get directly to the point since many others were trying to get his attention. This was a valuable event and he needed to get his objectives secured as quickly as p[ossible.

 

“Lord Grayfield, my father still won’t commit to making me the heir. The other day he had issues getting out of his bed and needed the maid to carry him to the throne room for his audiences. Do you know what this means for our kingdom? Galvos is preparing for their biggest push into Artollia in history, the news that we are experiencing drought has been leaked too thoroughly for us to contain.” The Prince told him seriously.

 

The Prince signaled a retainer and the man wearing purple robes in the color of the royal family with the logo of Prince Valiant stepped forward with a bow. “Lord Grayfield, a petition!”

 

The man handed a rolled-up piece of paper that Ashton unfurled and saw that it was indeed a petition. It asked for King Austerity to name Prince Valiant as his successor to prevent any instability to the throne and the nation. There was even a quill and ink prepared for him to sign it there and then, this sudden behavior caused some hesitation in Ashton. Picking it up and looking it over he suddenly realized why the Prince was taking an action like this, he had siblings.

 

The King was not known for any major accomplishments since he had carried the crown, many people called him an old shrew. While they all said his rule was not incredible things had improved on the streets since he had taken the crown. Through his rule taxation had increased but the people weren’t able to rise and become nobles, or if they did they had issues building anything more than slums. The term ‘Slum Lord’ was a slander used by the richer nobles to demean these individuals. 

 

“There were five of you! How did you trashes only manage to kill one of them?!” Kumiho screamed at the mirror angrily. Her gaze was focused on the team of adventures that the mirror had begun showing that were all lying dead on the ground. She refiled her mug with her tail angrily causing beer to splash out the side of the half-empty barrel and she began taking large drinks to cool the fire in her belly.

 

This caused Ashton’s eyes to move back to the mirror and he could see the beastman, the musketeer, and the alchemist digging through the belongings of the dead adventurers as they looked for valuables. 

 

“Dammit! Cotton burned her shit when he set her on fire! Her weapons and armor are useless now!” The alchemist yelled through his mask, it distorted it and gave it a raspy quality. “We had to use several potions and these broke bastards didn’t bring any to replace them! What about the archer”

 

“He ran so far! I am still looking for his corpse over here!” The man with the musket yelled to the Alchemist.

 

“Nice shot on the priest! You got both the mage and her with a headshot!” The beastman yelled to the musketeer. 

 

He was just about to yell that he didn’t shoot her in the head when they suddenly heard an agonized roar. The dark elf in the nun’s attire had lunged forward with the fallen arrow that came from the archer and stabbed the lion man in the eye while he was busy digging through her pockets. He had been kneeled over as he was in the tall grass and stood up as he reached for the arrow stuck in his skull. The nun then rolled using her legs and swung them up to get into a handstand position with her legs tucked in and her arms bent.

 

“Blood is honor!” She screamed as she used her arms and legs to kick up and drive the arrow into the lion man's skull with the bottom of her foot. 

 

A crushing noise could be heard coming from inside of the lion man's skull when the arrowhead hit the back of his cranium and snapped in half since the arrows were of poor quality. The musketeer tried to quickly raise his rifle and take aim at her but the sudden exertion caused him to tear open the muscles that were still mending in his lower chest. He started coughing and doubled over, nearly dropping his expensive gun onto the wet ground. If the powder got wet then the gun wouldn’t be able to function anymore until it was cleaned.

 

Trying to stand up, he had to use a tree to brace himself. What he witnessed next was the nun running rapidly through the grass running side to side in a zigzag pattern. The but cap of her staff had been adorned with a savage spike that she was using as a spear as she had it lifted over her head ready to drive forward. Her figure and form were the same as the hoplites of the Galvonian army of the old days.  

 

“Lord Grayfield, this is of utter importance.” Prince Valiant reminded him.

 

Next time: What Awful Princes!