PoV: Arthur King.
It's six whole hours later ― she's finally at the portal, so I reach out with my hand to her. But she looks, a mess-
Her hair and clothes ― more disheveled than ever; it's like she's had a rough life. Strange; since I saw her only hours ago in better clothes; but now even those clothes, they look ... ripped. Torn ... so they'd be easy to pull off her. Since she enters, to stand in front of me and my minions ― she also smells like-
-ugh-
-like men have used her body ― again and again ― this kind of smell. It's a foul smell I'd known, fighting off the unconsenting acts of things males have done upon weaker ones in the other world. Plus I see this look of fear, self loathing, shame ― giving up this life ― it's something I've seen in great quantity too.
Small footnote to this; I know by firsthand encounter, how it looks when females get so abused by depraved people. In Pernam, I went to a small village two days southeast of the capital on rumors I had to investigate by my eighth year. The chief had weird perversions; he tried to turn each female he set his undead eyes upon into his own, um-
At least I got the bloodsucking bastard, then.
It must be horrible, to have your body used for someone else's pleasure ― no enjoyment, no right to refuse, ever. Especially for Roia, who got treated as a worthless trash ― yet saw herself as being so close to freedom, with me.
"... um ... who-"
"-I don't want to talk about it-"
Her answer is already, dangerously weak; all she can do is ... come here, to ... collapse?
She has no strength to answer with anything more than this whimper? Even with my realm healing her? And, the drained look on her face ― my face pales too ― she's already the weakest she's ever been ― triggered on one past memory, I'm hoping she doesn't end things ... the same way. Oh, no-
"Okay, okay!" I switch to skip those queries, to ask a more immediate thing. "But. Bath? or bed? or food?"
"All. But bath first."
In this, I'm not going to shunt her off to my minion's barracks ― even if the mostly goblin residents are tame. Instead I'll take her into my mansion. My majordomo can soothe her for a time. In through this front door to the stairs upward, to my master suite ― she has followed this far, with wooden steps, but I wonder if I should carry her. To the bath and toilet room, a place she might not get anywhere else in this mortal fantasy world.
"My most reliable Ceevah here, she will be your attendant. Ask her for what you need, and she will see to it. Ceevah ― her master's soldiers did almost the same to her ― as Keriann's tribe did to her. Understand, Ceevah?"
I see Ceevah's eyes go wide from the reference; then she nods and pushes her master ― me ― calmly away from here. I have one last thing to add, before the door closes, with finality.
"Well then I'll be in the library, if she ... wants to talk with me later. Or if she wouldn't mind a companion while she eats. No pressure, no hurry," I whisper softly at the closing door.
... I hate this ... this feeling ... of dread. This pit of acid, in the stomach.
A feeling of knowing someone I might come to like, respect, trust ... has her own problems, and I cannot do a thing about it like this! I cannot even concentrate on reading this scroll!
She's likely crying ― leaning over the bathtub rim, with Ceevah kneeling there too, to calm her, to support her. At least it's something; not facing this alone. Unlike Keriann ― I hadn't know what to expect, how this similar debasement could shatter the young catkin girl's mind. Human turned dark elf, eh ... is it any different?
Or maybe already she's done with tears, numb instead. I can only guess how I might be if I had been female, and forced to face this ― a couple months with no sign of it letting up. And more, with this rape likely to continue for some time if I had not come along ― or even continue, if the next summoned one just walked away ― she'd want to die, too-
Yes, Roia probably goes through ... emotional extremes. Even if the slave magic abates it, like the collars of my last world ― it can't disappear. Worse, like with me, it only piles up until the later explosive release. Also ... it's one mental component of breaking a collar ― unleashing all pent up hostility, to fuel the self imperative, to counter all slave magic. Overpower a slave magic ... yourself.
But. Keriann ― almost like a young sister figure, someone I'd missed ― she strangely wasn't attracted to me, as were others ― so I'd openly expressed myself ... on lots of topics-
This similar situation occurred, once before. Some few years ago, I'd met in Pernam one young catkin female from a tribe of notable hunters. She met me a half dozen times over a couple years' time, called me a 'big brother' (as if it's a done deal I cannot refuse), so I'd taken to her too. Her race being catkin meant nothing to obsess about because I befriended her, for her. Whether she liked me as a person or since I was a summoned hero in their world, also didn't matter; we slowly bonded. I hadn't done intimate things with her because, yeah that, I did think of her as my 'little sister' ― since I had been missing my own. Only I'd wished she had lived to heal from her trauma; she was so smart and friendly, I ... had a job for her, to take her away from the tribe.
Let's say as an aside on the intimacy aspect ― aside what I have done with a 'dragon wife' ― every time I did something with a woman, it's fully consensual. Because since being pulled into a world of Pernam, a first instance of unconsenting acts I happened across here, had been so brutal upon the target. I had come across my chatty 'little sister' ― saw how she got brutalized, and more ― she did not consent to what others did to her. Oh yes I retaliated-
She had been a bright and intelligent kitty, a credit to her kin; but her family had hunter traditions they expected her to follow. Keriann at last felt free to declare she didn't want to learn hunting; she wanted more scholarly work ― but her own tribe hunted her, while she sought to get to Tanagara, the city where I lived. They debased her, raped her, mutilated her ― and only three hours later was I traveling on the same path and came across a sickening sight, where they left her, half dead-
Well duh I had to rescue her-
Her story came out after I'd made a few insensitive comments at first, so she unloaded baggage; but I let her stay and recover as long as she'd want. She stayed one month, never recovering. Then, one month to the day, she'd ended herself ― only to leave a single note behind, as all she could or would say for an explanation. I still have the note ... somewhere-
Ceevah had been her more or less caretaker or companion in my realm; but maybe this was still not enough for the disposed brainy catkin girl. After her death in my realm, Ceevah felt it should only be her fault, for a longest time ― though I never passed any blame, anywhere. Maybe I felt guilty too at a random insensitivity which might have kicked it off ... and so it should truly be my fault, not Ceevah's. Aah ― you live, you learn-
... I may have ... accidentally ... taken a trip to slaughter the tribe-
-accidentally. M, maybe.
Oh wait. Said day was no accident. But ... a similarity between Keriann, and now Roia ... calls it back-
My nostrils flare ― and I hold back a decision to storm the kingdom's capital, to tear it all down to bedrock. I do not know which men did this ― but right now, all citizens might in some way, be culpable, be at fault. I feel ... dangerous. More ... lethal ... I am the weapon.
... unintended wrath ... flashpoint!
My sanity, my sense of reason, is near a breaking point ― with these tragedies and recklessnesses and fates around me. Sanity is like a slip of paper, dancing right along the sharpened edge of a blade. If this paper gets cut the least bit, or all the way through ... everything goes. And I do mean, everything!
Because. Unlike those two catkin tribe I 'let' slip away, to warn others ― then ... I might not be done here, until I sense ... it's over.
Anyway. Too many dark, disturbing thoughts ― I must clear my head, to continue what I was doing.
Shove all thoughts aside ― focus on the main problem I'm pondering this last half decade. This written System Instruction Manual. Yes, I need some logic, to misdirect my own mind-
Such a System cannot work! The logic is too broken!
I've been seeking out the best Systems I can find in Pernam; which went well, considering in a handful of years I only got to see one fifth of it. This is a main focus of my studies: I have the private library here in my realm, to research taboo magic or systems the cats can't know. I want all the best systems my efforts allow me. Even the goddess, Six of Ten, said I am free to assimilate systems from the worthless people, and research and improve them!
Call me a Skill Taker, Ability Taker, System Taker ― I can take all the things-
Of course ― she said this for Pernam; the fact I did it once in Klee is ... maybe stepping on the goddess' toes in this world? Ahem. Well I will stand by my actions, either way-
... but. This much is fact. If I find the men who did this to Roia ... ever ... extracting their Systems and Skills and Abilities and Titles and whatever else ... this will not be the end of it.
On the flip side ... when I extract things from living beings ... they always return to 'level zero' or 'uninitiated' state. Unless I extract and assimilate one object as a copy of something I already have ― then the target's relevant XP will add to my own. Otherwise, it's merely 'start anew with this item'.
Like this unknown item here, I am reading; something I did not see before on Pernam, something I have not seen again since ― from either world. I'm trying to break it down, analyze it, separate it into component parts and commit to pages upon pages in a book, edit it, and ... then put it back together. The intent is, to use it as a System myself.
Assimilate, my ass. Six of Ten, are you sure you are not just lazy, having me do your work?
Anyway. A cultivation system, is what they call this crap? Too broken. Besides, what I see of it ... its users cannot get into level ten anyway ... something is wrong in the 'language' which defines the transition between its last levels; so, 'broken'. Toss it! Toss this cultivation book! Toss the whole system! All my notes too!
A mere hour later of me considering other texts ― and withholding from storming a castle ― I sense the outer door open and shut, and Ceevah pokes her head in at last.
"Master, she wishes for a simple meal before she rests. I did suggest she talk to you more, before then. Anyway, she does not have a bed of her own; and ... in her state ... she'd likely be better in your bed. But you, as a male-"
"Ah thanks, I will be there in a sec. Yeah I plan to let her use mine, and take another cot. But, um ― how is she?"
"Tired of ... those things happening, and so vocal ― about hating it, hating herself, too ― you could not believe her words. I did assure her ― life would not be like this, if she were with you. Though she did repeat, you told her you were a normal human male-"
Ceevah narrows her eyelids at me.
Strike one, me. First anvil to the head!
"-and she did say she notice you examining her body, when you first saw her-"
Strike two, me. Two more anvils!
"-but then she did say you look handsome, and maybe sad-"
AHA relief. I think one anvil might have fallen off- Wait ... sad, I understand; but, I'm handsome to her?
"-and maybe naive looking, too-"
OUCH arrow to the heart. But maybe I also shook free a second anvil?
"Okay, I'm coming already," I play out for my friend.
"Yeah ... we know ... you come a lot."
"Th, that's too much teasing!" I exclaim with a face turning red. "I thought I warned about-"
"-ha, ha, ha, yeah I know." Ceevah sniffs in resignation. "Still, she's better off now, than ... Keriann was." Her eyes turn aside, in sorrowful memory. "If only, I-"
"It wasn't your fault," I calmly say without pause, resting a hand to Ceevah's shoulder. "Not for Keriann, not for Roia. It's a same situation, but also not. Just, watch her for what cues you can pick up on her showing."
"... I know, master. Just seeing similarities again ― it hurts, is all I can say. I won't fail, this time. Let her have a goal, something to move herself forward, is what I think, and she won't turn out that way."
I find Roia sitting at my dining room table ― clean body now, wearing clean clothes too ― sobbing.
At my ingress, she hurriedly wipes her eyes, then fakes a smile as I round the table and take the usual seat.
"Thank you, once again, Arthur. It's all ... so nice here. I'm almost wishing, I ... uh, never mind-"
I nod again, thinking varied thoughts about how to draw Roia out, while Ceevah sets the table. And boy, does she. I think she's showing off her last-minute cooking prep skills or something. Meats, vegetables, fruits, grains, a dessert or two. Some of these dishes, Ceevah had difficulty making, a mere year ago ― it might be such an accomplishment for my loyal cheetah girl to have done so much.
Or ― she's busy making sure Roia feels better than Keriann ever did. Ceevah may also see this as an imperative, something she must do, this night.
Roia's eyes grow wide, at the sight of food too rich for King Bonner. "... but I ... I don't owe you, for-"
"I'm not in the habit of charging guests, not like I bring very many here to be guests. Especially those I may come to depend upon. And especially not someone who I might want ... as a friend."
She takes this in, slowly digging into her plate of food, no reserve. I feel content to see her eat like she has not had the chance in some time ― but I also have some thoughts to discuss.
"So pardon the interruption, but about the purchase price-"
She perks up once more, but also saddens.
"The price I told is only what I heard the king say he could ask, in front of others. I do not know if it's a real plan or thought he has to sell me. Certainly I am a failure in his eyes ... and it's hard for me not to start believing it too; but it is within the price range of other slaves-"
"-I think he devalues you too much."
The half dark elf girl calmly notes this with a numb look, while trying to eat.
"... but I am concerned. About the ... men; and what they did-"
"-yeah well if I'm pregnant I couldn't know just yet, as it could be any one of dozens of those men from the last two months. At least this time I wasn't ... contrary to my excuse, it's not 'that time' for me. I can't worry about it now; but if or when the time comes, if I am ― promise me, I won't have to bear it ... alone?"
"I promise."
"... then I'm ... it's okay."
"Beyond this, Roia. I know a paternity magic which could tell if you are, and who the biological father would be ... if you want-"
"-no ... I'm not ready to think of this, yet!"
The room lapses into silence, while she eats. I consider talking about random things, when she suddenly asks, "About a price ― you have some way of gaining local currency? I bet it's from selling something you have now."
"Correct. Some materials and items stored since I was last in the other world. Tell me, do you have an idea what something like this is worth here?"
I pull an item from Inventory.
She eyes the piece, not yet ready to set aside her food, but she ponders it.
"This musical instrument ― one ambassador may want to buy something like it. You recall after the clone went free I mentioned Ambassador's Row and Martyr Street? Okay, find the third closest quarters to the castle along the north side of this street. The ambassador is a perverted lecher, but he does fancy a lot of artful cultural things like these. It's likely he's still awake if you hurry there; ask for Count Bratton Nemhauser. He may go as high as forty thousand kob for a quality instrument."
"I have seven of the same model. All like this too-"
"-Arthur. It may be difficult to get him to buy more than three; most ambassadors here have limited budgets, and have to send off for expenses over a certain amount. Or at least the one time he met with the king, I did hear him use such an excuse for a reason behind a delayed payment for some matter."
"Oh. But it's still a good chance ― getting something so high as this much, each."
Her plate of food nearly done, Roia yawns without pause.
Ceevah notes this, but so did I.
"Ceevah. Since I don't have a spare room made up yet, let her use my bedroom for now."
"-no Arthur I'm fine, even if it's just one of the sofas in your parlor-"
"-but the bed is so much more worth the comfort experience ... than a short sofa."
"Then master, Roia may take my own room," Ceevah inserts, to break a tie.
I won't override her offer; it's to let Roia herself decide.
"Anyway, Roia ― you bathed, you ate, now you should feel how good a night's rest in comfort is. Because of her sleeping pattern, Ceevah's bed is a heaped pile of furs and blankets, into which I cannot attribute a sleep benefit so easily. Any other bed is already taken; therefore I ask, please take mine."
"... if you ... really mean this, then ... okay."
"Yes. I do. Plus, I think I'm gonna go back into the capital for a sec-"
"-Arthur ... promise me you will stay away from soldier barracks seventeen-"
I can only grin calmly, as I have certain thoughts now. "I have a few things I want to investigate-"
Stepping from my realm, I cloak myself and step out into the evening around Povrah Castle. Evening crickets are starting to chirp a cooling temperature, so I hurry.
Yeah well ... she didn't say anything about laying in wait for the soldiers of barracks seventeen, somewhere other than their barracks-
Returning to what I have seen of the dirty streets, hints of trash and wastes in public, I set a course toward where Roia has pointed me. Now donning separate attire so my description is not the same, and for a good effect morphed my face some, I found in a moment the place, and tap on the gate, on a metal plate serving as a 'doorbell'.
After holding the instrument and explaining my reasoning, the young guard passes a message inside; and then a few moments later, an invite is sent back for me to go inside.
Within a minute, a calmly dressed man is greeting me in his inner parlor, where I glance about the room. Paintings line the walls; but none of note.
He's shorter than I, fatter than the king ― but also has a cordial nature about him. 'Lecherous' nature aside from what Roia says, I cannot really hate someone so outgoing as a laughing whimsical nature might be 'infectious' at times. Aah yeah, I can see how this guy might be the life of a party, even a political one.
"Welcome to the state embassy for the Kirren Nation, young man. I understand you have this .... item for sale?"
I nod. "Apologies too, for arriving so late. I came from far away looking to sell some wares, and only just a short time ago got word to ask here. If it is in your interest, please do examine this item."
"Well okay, let's see here-"
He takes the instrument I hold his way, turning it one way and another. Plucking at a string or two, he makes them sound how they're meant to sound. Then, more vigorous strums, as he tries to get into a rhythm associated with this product.
To me, it's just a 'Spanish guitar' ― it gives a nice sound on the body. But to him, I'm not sure how he sees it; going by his eyes, he's hooked on this concept. I can sense this object may just have some value, in his thoughts; but what would he do with more than one? Not for me to guess; I only want to see how many of them he will accept for purchase.
At last done ― he hands it back, and scratches his balding head.
"It's got nice tone, I'll give you this. I haven't the means to say I've seen another instrument like it. I've seen strung instruments true, with more of a boxy chamber; just not something in this ... style."
I only nod, knowing this is true.
"Sir Nemhauser, I won't tell you any untruth about it; but I will say, the master craftsman who made this-"
"-master craftsman?"
"A man who's made this and other instruments in some years, even specialized in them. He treats each instrument as if it's his own, even if he would sell it. I have known him for all of a half decade, and even then I do not suppose I will ever know the fullness of his craftsmanship skill. Even if I did know him to a third of century, almost the length of my own life, I still cannot know all he does."
Nemhauser looks at me, and I realise ― he's got this look to say 'but you look so young' to me. To this, I can only add, "I am ... older than I do look."
The ambassador's eyes squint. "Disguise, huh; well everyone has got their secrets, I don't mind, if it brings no harm to me. But this instrument-"
"It is one of seven such items, in case you hold an interest in more than just one."
Nemhauser's eyelids rise, anticipating. "Package deal, or ... not?"
"If you desire. It would be simplest to have them all go to the same owner; then you can do with them as you please. Sell them, rent them, use them for target practice, whatever. They're nice instruments, but ― I admit I do not know how to play; my life went to more academic studies. Plus the master craftsman's last wish is ... for his items to go to someone who appreciates them."
"Aah." The ambassador reappraises the instrument in hand. "And they're all ... like this?"
"Yes. With minor variations on wood grains, naturally ... but same form, same tones, as I heard my friend test and play each one."
Nemhauser turns to his steward, who nods ― with Nemhauser calling for his coin bag.
"All seven, for ... let's see ... fifty thousand kob, each? Three hundred fifty thousand?"
I withheld a look of surprise, and slowly nod. "Done."
Six more appear from my Inventory, arriving out of thin air. Nemhauser and his steward look with awe; but then he counts a number of coins, and hands them to me directly.
"Is this good, young man?"
"... yeah. Um, yes. Good."
As I walk out, a voice ― the steward ― calls out to me. "Young man-!"
"Hmm?"
He hustles closer, trying to draw me back before I leave his master's property ― but I don't wish to stay. "If I ... were to say ... 'Peronaam' ... then-"
"-then I would say back, 'Doraagon'."
Recognition, in his old eyes. He smiles.
"It's been a long time since seeing another from the old world," the steward beams. "But here ― be careful; these are dangerous times and a young man like yourself may get caught up in power struggles. Especially so, to one the local king wants found in the worst way."
"Hint, or warning?"
"... both."
"So ... how did you know?"
"... nobody here says 'master craftsman' ... or suggests the 'use them for target practice' line for something bought at such value. Good night, young man."
The steward turns back, merely waving.
Roia seems asleep; I'll just tiptoe in and-
Aah. As I open the door, she sits bolt upright ― and sees me.
"Sorry, just got back, wanted to grab a spare blanket. I'll just ... take the sofa in my library-"
"-come."
Huh?
She looks at me so direct, serene.
"Arthur it's your room. And if you promise to stay on your half and leave me be, then ... I won't mind. Besides, for tomorrow ― you need your sleep benefit too."
To this, I can only nod. I sigh, unclasp my cloak and let it slide off my shoulders to the chair at my side. Ten seconds more and I'm more comfortable; but I head into my private bath and toilet, for an obvious reason. If I'm gonna be in bed with this girl, I've gotta do a certain thing first, or a certain problem may ... rise up between us-
Twenty minutes later, and I slide in at my side of the king sized bed.
Without raising an eyelash, Roia calls out. "How many times-"
... damn ... I forgot to soundproof my bathroom!
"... eh ... what."
She giggles. "Sorry not sorry!"
I groan, not sure if I can live this down.
"So, the ambassador-"
"All seven ... at fifty thousand kob, each."
She rolls over ― facing me so ― eyes alight with new hope.
"... then-!"
"The only problem is, to ask if the king will sell you, or how I can obtain you ― or if any habits or rituals with the transaction of slaves exist-"
"-we'll get through it! Somehow!"
She leans in, planting a sudden kiss on my cheek. "Hey that's cheating, we are supposed to stay separate-"
"-oops forgot. Good night," she says, and returns to 'her side' of the bed ― giggling.
... she didn't forget, did she. Reaching arms up over me, I 'clap clap', and the lights dim and then vanish.
"... Arthur?"
"-hmm yeah."
"... it's too dark."
"Oh, sorry. I usually like it completely dark." I snap my fingers, and a faint 'night light' glows, low along one wall.
"-and ... I need a glass of water-"
"In the bathroom then."
"... a late snack?"
Is she ... playing?
"You've got to be kidding me-"
"... an extra pillow?"
"Good night, Roia."
"Do you know any lullaby-"
*sigh*
She's too playful now-
I wake up seeing Roia still asleep but facing my way with a loose smile. She does look so different, after one night of rest. Yep in the status screen, for the 'Conditions' section too, it shows a 'Well Rested' line, to indicate she did get a proper amount of sleep ... and healing. She's ... beautiful.
But still, we got things to do. I roll off the side, and slowly hear Roia yawn and stretch, herself.
"... Roia ... wake up."
"... um ... *yawn* ... uh what time is- CRAP!"
She sits upright in a second.
"Ha, ha, relax, it's still three hours til local sunrise, there ― if I synchronized to world time in the correct way."
"... oh."
"It's okay to feel concern for being back in that place, though. Plus we might need to take this time to do a little 'planning'. 'Plotting'. Or maybe just 'taking over' if necessary-"
Her eyebrows raise slightly in concern; but she soon rolls off the bed and ... looks around. She has literally nothing to do here, either ― nothing is hers, only mine. No spare clothes even ― she's wearing Ceevah's spare garb.
"So ... I'm thinking," she opens, "maybe if you had some disguise-"
"Like this?" I morph into a demon race's looks ― as seen from the other world.
She shrinks back in surprise, then eases up on her reaction. "Y, you can do that?"
"Yes, totally. It's a demon general seen in Pernam; and if I see a 'demon lord' of this world, I could even come back here to play him ― hm. I just realized, I might have a devious streak. 'Play the demon lord' part, instead of being a 'summoned hero' to take him on. Ha, ha." But then I let my features return to my 'normal' look. "It does take a small effort to keep this up, so I don't do it often. But in the meantime, it should be something doable."
"Well ... the king has the demon lord's daughter captive ― if his words are true. Though I admit I have not heard other news of this ― nor has any commotion flourished, to suggest this is the case. Maybe it's a fraud?"
"... anyway. A disguise, hmm-"
I open my closet, and motion Roia near.
"Which one might work best, for a 'not too overdone' look in this place."
She pauses, reaches in, rummages through hanger after hanger of clothing items. She stops at one garment ― which looks like an effete young master of any medieval kingdom; but I know it's a demon race's preferred attire ― but goes past. At last, she comes to one hanger, and tilts her head-
"-ugh. Roia ... this is my least favorite one; but if you say so-"
"-seriously Arthur. Are these styles in the other world?"
"... yeah I'm afraid so. If I bring you there you'd be surprised at some things you'd see."
She smiles softly at this thought, before arriving at a new one. Her gaze goes to herself-
"... well ... what about me," Roia asks. "I think, I need to be ... bruised looking ... and wearing shabby clothes ... like before. My damage already healed. B, but if you must, then ... go ahead ... h, hit me-"
She winces, bracing herself-
-she's expecting ... that?
"-no, I will never hit you. Instead I can simulate these things ― make clothes look deteriorated, simulate bruises ― easy enough without causing damage. Just tell me where these should be, how damaged to make them look ― and let this trick work."
PoV: King Bonner Povrah.
Lean, fart, settle back into place.
I, am, bored. Bored, bored, bored.
I thought I could just sleep, like normal. But this morning again, having the anticipation ― no, expectation ― of having captured the summoned one, yet haven't ― I feel ... restless.
None of these servants can do a damn thing about it. Not even if I did mention it; which I won't. It does no good.
Thus ― bored, tired; unusually stiff and sore, to start this early morning ― with one messenger arriving.
"Sire."
"What is it, Page."
"I got word of a concern ... something in the soldiers of barracks seventeen-"
What the-
"-well, what of it! What, they want more pay? More time with that failure slave?"
"N, no ... sire. Something strange happened, this morning they slept in as if groggy and tired, but when getting up, it's as if ... they all lost their combat training."
"What?"
"Sire, as I heard. When asked, they each report only recalling the play time they had yesterday, with the slave girl you allow them to use when they need to, then later going out to a tavern. Something must have happened at the tavern ― but nobody can remember a thing; not even remember their own stumbling back to their barracks. One of the bar wenches did report, those soldiers came in along with a guy who said he would treat them to a drink; but that young man did not stay long. And as reported too, the captain thought they slept in, so he kicked their beds; but when they roused, they were ... as if they'd lost their combat training, and skills."
"... what, I still don't know what's ― explain, Page!"
"... sire. I regret to inform you," the guy shivers, "it's as if, someone could remove all their skills."
"... guh-"
I freeze ― thoughts of someone-
-him. The escaped summoned one.
This does answer the question, of whether worlds out there exist which have more mana than us; and, what their residents can do-
I shiver, a sudden thought coming forth; followed by an unintended fart ― a messy one ― all from a fearsome thought: he could wipe us out.
"P, pardon me. I've gotta, go ... change-"
"... yes ― pardon, sire-"
PoV: Arthur King.
A couple minutes later, Roia checks herself, thoroughly ― almost glad to appear as bruised as before ― yet feeling great. It's our little secret.
"It, it will wear off, though?"
"Yes. Within a normal day, or if you say the word 'Schadenfreude'. Don't say it. I can say it because the effect is on you; but if you say it the effect is lost, so be sure you mean it. You may have to act cowed or beaten ― you know how, for that; but on saying it, you'll see renewal ― clean clothes, no bruising ― unless they ... repeat the ... ahem."
She pales to the thought, but turns aside to consider things. I goofed-
"Sorry. Roia. I should leave it for you to ... say ... as you think-"
"-Arthur if I start talking about those things I'm going to want to rant. I would rant and rave, until nobody would want to be around me. Even you, would abandon me-"
"-it's not like this! You don't have anything to fear, from me at least. I will not abandon you ― mainly because both of us are summoned here too. Um, about this ― would any of the other summoned ones want to return?"
Roia put a fingertip to her lips, paused in deep thought, and then slowly shook her head.
"But this is only in the surface analysis; what each summoned one thinks on the inside, without saying expressly, may be another matter. Only," Roia exhales, then inhales again. "By what is said, most of the summons become acclimated within a year because of an open sheer brutality some slave owners have here. Or maybe their own desire to fit in, blend in, and thus not stand out, will come forth. It's not always so bad, but often enough can be brutal upon new summoned ones, especially the females ― of which lately a majority have been. If I resist the slave magic even a small bit, for this I get sent to ... those guys ... whether they send for me or not."
I sense my eyes go wild-
"Hmm ... I wanna kill those types of people, in the worst possible way. Anyway ― breakfast, while we plan the day, then ... off you go."
"... I really cannot just stay here ... forever?"
"You could but I think it makes it legal if I 'buy' you from them ― a last chance to face this king ― albeit with disguise."
"..."
Cute pouty look is cute, and tugs at my heart. But I'm no less serious.
"I know, Roia ― it's not a happy thought ― to return; but once this is all done and over with, you are free of it. I can help you break the slave bond too ― then if you want to go anywhere, it's by your choice."
Spooning a bite of breakfast ― fresh cooked oatmeal, all oats grown 'locally' ― I consider the next logical step.
"So ... what, I go outside the castle and find someone ― ask where is the adventurer's guild? Will this work? And then come to the king looking for a 'slave companion' to help me go adventuring?"
"This world doesn't have adventurer's guilds. A dungeon is where 'adventurous persons' called 'Explorers' take quests or train. But also ― I suggest one cover story, which may work."
"... okay?"
"The neighboring Kirren Nation, this same land as Count Nemhauser, has some mysteries. One oddity is a small border march with a recently deceased marquis and rumors of an illegitimate son absconding with an enormous amount of wealth. I have seen an artful drawing of him on a public notice. Now if you keep your black hair but somehow, I don't know, mix in some dark blue tones, then widen the bridge of your nose ― you should pass as him. Answer by name 'Darren Hillyer son of Corban the Mighty' like others heard him to do; so you got a way to see the king. Claim something like wanting to have an adventure into the king's dungeon but keep it all secret from back home. Play up the roguish abandonment of Kirren matters. Plus it might lead to a way to find out if a demon princess does exist."
"... but ... if a demon princess is inside ... isn't it being used as a prison ― or won't this be bad, to mix dungeon with a prison?"
"It is, but in a controlled way. In this world, dungeons are maintained by royal families or the governments of each land. One way to break free from having unsightly prisons above ground is to setup dungeon rooms to house various criminals, anarchists, even those who merely displease the royals. But they are kept separate from the wild minions meant to regenerate and respawn within the dungeon itself. You will see why if and when you enter; you may see posted hints or guidelines to direct or warn those going in for adventure."
"It's this simple?"
"Currently only someone of high royal position or of military rank may grant access to the dungeon. Since you can claim 'I want to go inside the dungeon to be an Explorer' ... this is a path. If you were to also be this 'Darren Hillyer' ― then play like the rumors of you having a wealth hid or lost too, may be true; then you could infer your way to ... buy me."
Her lit up eyes infers the rest. She could be free, and then we could become adventure ― Explore, as Explorers, in the dungeon ― or go elsewhere.
"Well if it's 'looking the part', I can talk to the steward of Nemhauser's embassy, as I have a way in. I've seen they have a more current picture of him. But why will Bonner let the disgraced son of a noble from a neighboring land into a dungeon here? Oh wait ... the other thing ... what 'public notice'?"
"Dealing with an ambassador's steward might be tricky; you could see a better image of Darren, so it's your call. For the public notice, I only heard of one intended marriage arrangement with Candra some time ago; maybe it got called off by one side; she might remember nothing, or all of it. You'll be announced; she might come. Maybe the notice never got recalled or rescinded. Anyway, it should be easy enough to play like you are 'disgraced' or 'disinherited' somehow. Say you always wanted an Explorer title, but now cannot get it in your own land-"
"-excellent, Roia. Are you sure you weren't a politician on Earth?"
"-n, never! Don't even suggest this!"
"... aha, just joking."
She smiles almost cruelly. "Getting me back for last night?"
"... maybe?"
Two hours later, I find myself nearly outside the city wall, catching a ride from the castle by a slow moving army wagon. Before this, though, I did talk to the steward who, once I tell my reason, smiles and shows me a recent painting, taken a year and a half before now. I had to 'age up' the image of the kid from then, to look like what he should, now. Not so much difference, then. Am I doing alright, here?
I hear the soldiers' gossip continue as 'we' head to the wall. Even if soldiers are skilled and alert, they still do let slip a lot of kingdom news, in idle chatter. I'm quite pleased to hear words about 'barracks seventeen' just now being investigated. It should not track back to Roia; even so, at best she can confirm they did indeed use her like they had.
The west city gate is where I part company with the wagon, which queues behind others, waiting.
"Is it a good day, Cranston?" asked the gate guardsman minding the line.
"Nah the king is in a foul mood, this morning. Don't ask, Varden," replies the wagon driver.
A good thing I didn't go seek the king's attention early, then. But I do have a continuing concern for Roia, for her being near him and the royal family.
Varden whistles to his team, who pull open the gate ― military vehicles get priority ― then motions for Cranston's wagon to drive slowly through it. Soldiers at each side already blow a pale miasma across the gate, through where the wagon goes to indicate if an 'invisible person' would try sneaking through. I'm already off the wagon, stepping far back just in case; I only have to sneak through another way. Up the wall?
Climb steps up the wall, jump outward, letting a 'controlled descent' magic slow me down, before sinking into the moat. It's hard enough to hold an invisibility; but soon enough I'm wading across this icky ― ugh, crap ― it's so sticky! But at least I'm out now, dripping wet, mere ripples expanding-
"THERE!" yells someone on the wall.
Uh oh time to run- OOF.
An arrow? In my forearm? I mean seriously damn this hurts-
But out of the water it's easier to zigzag around, avoiding more arrows. Since the arrow hit, it gets the same invisibility effect, keeping my cover.
Once out of immediate sight of the city walls ― taking a rest down the road behind a small clump of trees ― I can rest to deal with this wound. My clone has vanished already; my being seen has probably got the guards into an uproar ― for which I'm sorry on behalf of the normal citizens. News of it might even reach the king; and I'm also sorry if it made Roia worry too ― though it changes my status to escaped from the capitol ― but hey, I'm bleeding!
As a last point before her departure from my realm ― I made sure she could go in or out of my domain, giving her permission to do so. I did warn her not to just come inside for any old reason ― but limit it to the the most serious needs. Ha, yeah; but she did snort, then claim 'but using such a nice clean toilet truly is a serious business'.
In any case, if she hears news of an invader being shot by some arrow ― Roia may try sneaking back into my realm, asking if I'm still alive and well. Gimu of course may tell her, the realm will disappear if the Master has died, so she would not be able to access the place either-
-that's not, entirely ... not fully correct; even if I did not tell my minions since I also now added Roia to the priority list of people allowed in there, my realm could not perish until and unless she also has perished. It's almost a 'free ticket' for her to use the space, while events here run onward. Of course, I won't grant her management rights to my space; but at least my minions can continue to live for some time, too.
This tracker link ― a sensor I placed to Roia ― if this is correct, her heartbeat is way too fast-
I can think the worst, or assume she thinks the worst ... or assume she got handed out to the men again to do with as they pleased. Either way, I can do nothing for her out here. It's two and a half, maybe three kilometers to the castle compound ... from where I've collapsed to rest. Aside of one or two long range 'trickster' spells, I know of nothing which could reach so far to give me insight into her plight.
A communication stone in my pocket ― my 'magic cell phone' tech ― gave a buzz. I extract it and answer ― holding its smooth surface next to my ear and cheek ― knowing who it would be.
"Yes?"
"Master," Ceevah spoke in a cautious tone. "Roia just ran inside ― claiming you were ... shot with an arrow?"
"-and you want to know if I am alright?"
"Yes, Master. Also. She could be ... more calm."
Translation ― Roia is distraught ... and it may even distress the other minions.
"Uh huh. Well then. Give Roia a spare comm stone, show her how to use it; she'll be fine. Also warn her not to use it in sight of others ― only in my space, if she can help it. I am ― well, I will be okay ... in a moment."
"Okay you're the boss, boss-"
With five minutes of healing over time, this forearm gash recedes notably; now I'm in more or less in stable condition ― and a new call came in. As I've been expecting.
"Arthur- Arthur- Arthur-"
"-hey whoa slow down Roia. Don't worry my minions."
A heavy sigh, and slowing heart rate, means she's calming down.
"But, are you okay, I heard-"
"-got nicked by an arrow but not enough to ruin the disguise ... I think. Not sure."
"... eh ... well then, what do I-"
"-nothing to worry about; I'll keep going. I'm healing slowly, almost good as new. Will proceed as we discussed, maybe see you ... noon? Or sometime. Back to the routine though. Gotta go, bye-"
I turn off my stone. My turn to sigh, finally.
At a sound, I turn around-
"Halt! Identify yourself."
Gulp.
I see a squad of seven men ― two are women; it must be an almost 'gender equal' army, aha. Kudos to this kingdom ... or whatever. All of them lock eyes on me ― sitting at this copse of trees. I've sensed them from afar but thought they'd just pass on by. Apparently guys talking with stones is ... weird?
"Eh ... hi there, guys-"
"I said. Identify yourself, stranger."
"You don't know me-?"
"-why should we. Speak!"
Swords are drawn; both women archers nock arrows; all are aiming at me now. I can use this moment-
"Aha, well see I'm famous, or infamous maybe. Darren Hillyer son of Corban the Mighty ... at your service-"
I bob my head to one side in a flourish ― what maybe a disgraced son of a neighboring land might do.
One of the females leans over to the other. "Hey ... Tabbi ... that's the guy on the notice?"
"Yeah I know ... let's take him in for the reward-"
Huh? Do they not know I can hear them now? Er ... what reward-
"Uh, you say you are Darren Hillyer? Yeah I know the name; but we have orders to bring you before the king. So, uh, stand ... sir."
Maybe they'll treat me with enough respect, I can still make this work. But I'm beginning to think, Roia should have said 'wanted poster', not 'public notice'. Same thing? or not?
Climbing slowly to my feet, I see these soldiers shift their weapons, still guarded. "Hey relax boys, I'm not armed."
I see signs of frustration on Tabbi; she might feel frustrated in me saying 'boys' or 'guys'. Eh ― I might apologize for this ― someday.
"-but still. We are under orders; so ― come with us, we will not harm you okay? Our king only wants to have a brief ... discussion."
Okay now I think Roia did not say the full details; maybe she does not know these details either. But meanwhile, as we travel back into the city, I can gather more intel, by talking to these people.
