Castle Kingside

His elbows propped over carved wooden handrails, Dimitry took a deep breath.

Earthy and fishy cold mist rushed into his nose from the flowing waters of a widening river. It cradled the ship, gently guiding it downstream past overgrown fields, abandoned settlements, and collapsed fortifications. The occasional heathen, too. Long dead and broken, their stone frames rested on patches of barren earth among otherwise vivacious greenery. The land, however, wasn’t alone in its struggle to recover from the scars of endless conflict.

Shrinking in the distance, the scaffold-clad walls of a small and overpopulated city prepared for an inevitable raid. Although stonemasons sealed most of the gaps and sorceresses reinforced them with green protectia enchantments, would the hasty repairs hold out against a night of repentance more vicious than any before? How about the people hiding beyond them? Even if they survived the assault, how long would they live without ample food?

Dimitry didn’t intend to find out.

He ventured forth to negotiate with aquatic demons to provide his new home with allies and fishing spots. Aside from stockpiling grain and dried meat bought with plague curing blankets, it was the best way to prevent starvation. Reliable sources of fish protein and oils were invaluable for a populace’s health.

However, that wasn’t the only reason he set out for Fishman Island. His now navy-colored emblem tugged towards the sizable chunk of land west of Malten ever since his voyage from Coldust.

There was a shrine there.

A cache that Amphurt’s monolith configured to reward a relic containing ‘Homeworld Expertise’. Knowledge Dimitry hoped could help him resuscitate a kingdom. That was, assuming his rank as knight allowed him to access it and that aquatic demons didn’t drown everyone on board long before he reached his destination.

However, despite the stress resulting from countless unknowns, Dimitry kept a calm expression. If not for himself, then to assuage the fears of uneasy sailors, sorceresses, soldiers, and anyone else unlucky enough to travel to dangerous lands on orders from a superior. The unwilling participants watched him with suspicious and uncertain eyes, their gossiping growing more fearful by the moment. Even Klaire, the queen’s stewardess, hid in the captain’s quarters after providing an uncomfortable briefing.

Dimitry empathized with them. They followed a surgeon who claimed he could negotiate with demons into the maws of death. However, unlike them, he wasn’t afraid. Instead, nervous confidence took hold inside, like that belonging to an unpracticed resident who held a patient’s life in their hands. He couldn’t let fear cloud his judgment. It would make diplomacy more complicated than it already was.

Failure wasn’t an option.

Especially since Dimitry wasn’t the only one struggling to make things right in a field he knew nothing about. Back in Malten, Saphiria followed his lead. She had taken on the challenge of eliminating Amphurt’s plague to prevent the unnecessary deaths of miners, smelters, and other townsfolk in the countryside. Dimitry had given her the tools she needed to accomplish her task. The rest was up to her.

Hopefully, they would both succeed.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said as it approached from behind. It belonged to a girl whose hood hid all but several strands of red-brown curly hair, each flying sideways in freezing winds. Angelika brushed them behind her ear, revealing pink cheeks, and leaned over the handrail beside Dimitry. She grinned. “Doing well, diplomat?”

“You look surprisingly calm.”

“Why?” She pointed back with her thumb. “Did you expect me to piss myself like the rest of them? If an aquatic demon so much as picks up a spear, I’ll shoot the fucker in the head.”

Dimitry turned his gaze towards abandoned crop fields drifting by. “Please don’t do that.”

“Why not? They’re going to try to kill us, so I figured I’d do it first.”

“Today’s goal isn’t to fight, but to make new allies.”

“Allies? I fought them on Malten’s shores.” Angelika looked out over the countryside. “They’re savages.”

“Obviously they’ll behave like savages.” Dimitry took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “They have to if they want to survive a battle against someone like you. But I’ll make sure it doesn’t come down to that.”

“Can you really speak to them?”

“Yes.”

“A week ago, I would’ve laughed at you.” Angelika folded her arms onto the handrail and rested her chin on their stacked surface. “But if you managed to convince Mira to send sorceresses all the way out here, you might be onto something. She loves us like her own children.”

“I wish you’d show me a similar level of confidence,” Dimitry said. “I don’t want you to shoot the very creatures I’m supposed to be negotiating with.”

“I’ll try to behave.” She stood up straight and reached for the voltech rifle strapped to her back. “But I’ll be having this out just in case.”

Dimitry glanced at the strange weapon. Aside from the lack of a trigger and a gunpowder igniting mechanism, it looked like a gun. Could he arm his hospital guards and ambulances with it? “Can anyone besides mages use that thing?”

“Yeah, but it’ll be a waste of vol since most people’s efficiency is so bad. Their bullets won’t go very far or hit hard. It’s also possible that they’ll overload themselves with only a few uses.” Angelika looked at him with incredulous eyes. “What, you still haven’t tried one yet?”

“Never had the chance.”

“Want to?” She shoved her rifle forward and smirked. “Just in case your negotiations don’t go so good?”

An opportunity to learn more about arms wasn’t something Dimitry could pass up, especially ones designed using this world’s cutting edge technology. Not that that meant much. Even if voltech rifles could pierce heathens, they consumed vol, attracting more attention from the very opponent they were supposed to kill.

How nice it would be to have access to real guns.

Settling for second best, Dimitry took the weapon from her outstretched arms. “Now what?”

Angelika reached into her robe, digging for something. “It’s just like casting a spell. Concentrate vol in your palm, then chant ‘propelia’. The seals in the handle will take care of the rest.”

Her hand reappeared holding a dark green vol pellet and a small iron ball. “Oh, by the way, this one is custom-tailored for me. It uses an entire pure. You know, to kill its target and everything hiding behind it. Can never be too sure.” She rolled the metal ball into the voltech rifle’s barrel and placed the vol pellet into Dimitry’s free palm.

“I didn’t expect any less from you.” He absorbed the pellet, guiding its power across his body and into his other hand. “Propelia.”

The blue lines engraved into the weapon’s seals brightened as an iron ball soundlessly burst from the barrel. However, despite the massive amount of kinetic energy guiding the bullet, Dimitry felt no recoil.

Did voltech weaponry violate Newton’s third law?

Ocean waves crashed into the ship’s hull one after another, causing the vessel to tilt side to side. Its restless seesawing knocked an illumina lamp off of a crate. The enchanted skull—perhaps the captain’s idea of a joke—rolled past a row of items destined to become gifts for corrupted creatures.

A woman with bundled light-blue hair walked beside them, her legs trembling as she introduced each item. Klaire stopped in front of three knee-high sculptures. “And t-these were provided by the s-stonemason guild. I hope they’ll be useful in your negotiations with those… things.”

Dimitry held back a smile at the sight of a terrified stewardess. Not that she was to blame. Before long, this ship would reach Fishman Island. The aquatic demons patrolling the mountainous green landmass were unlikely to greet them with offers of tea and biscuits.

They would try to murder everyone aboard.

And Dimitry was the only one who could convince them to stop.

Unlike Klaire, however, he maintained his composure. Anticipation and adrenaline surged through his body, giving him the courage he needed to confront demons and prevent the deaths of dozens. He wanted to jump out of his seat, to end the wait as soon as possible. But he couldn’t. Instead, he distracted himself by listening to the nervous ramblings of an attractive woman. “I see. Tell me more.”

Her leather book held to her chest with both arms, Klaire stepped forward and pointed to a small stack of dark green, rectangular metal bars. “T-these are vol ingots provided by Her Majesty herself. We could b-bargain with them if demons use m-magic like you said they did during the summit.”

Dimitry leaned forward on the crate he sat on, ready to dash out of the cargo hold at any moment. Could aquatic demons cast spells? Although he told Malten’s leaders they might, his only evidence was Precious’s existence. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” She lifted an iron barrel with an attached wooden grip. “T-these are the highest quality voltech rif—” Klaire sighed, dropped the weapon back into place, then used her free hand to fiddle with the metal pen-like object resting on her ear. “Jade Surgeon, would you answer this one’s question?”

He met the woman’s uneasy gaze. “To the best of my ability.”

“Is it true that you quelled an aquatic demon attack before?”

“Yes.”

“And that they can… speak?”

“The ones I spoke to communicated with more grace than most people I’ve met.”

She sat next to him. “I a-apologize if I sound dubious, but—”

Something slammed into the boat’s layered plank hull with a resounding thunk.

Klaire shrieked and fell to the floor.

“Let none reach Waira!” a muffled female’s voice called from the ocean’s depths.

“Yes, Warcaller!” yelled a dozen voices in response.

It began.

Dimitry jumped up. “I’ll answer any other questions you have later. Just stay here and let us handle the rest.”

Klaire huddled between two casks. “Y-yes, Jade Surgeon!”

Shouting and the sound of tense strings snapping back came from the boat’s deck.

“Protectia!”

“Incendia!”

“Propelia!”

Dimitry dashed up the cargo hold’s stairs. He told those morons not to fight back. Their panicked decisions would end any diplomatic relationship before it could begin.

Archers held their crossbows over the ship’s rails, shooting purple, witheria enchanted bolts into the ocean.

Sorceresses reached into pockets and chanted spells.

Spears flew out of the water and onto the deck.

“Everyone!” Dimitry yelled. “Put down your weapons before you get us all killed! That’s an order!”

A sailor stood behind a mounted ballista glanced at the sorceress to his side, conflicted if he should obey the orders of a surgeon.

“Listen to me and we’ll survive!” Dimitry stomped across the deck. “Drop your damn weapons and let me handle the rest.”

Angelika ran up to him, her voltech rifle still strapped to her back. “What should we do?”

“You and the combat mages stay on board and cast defensive spells. Everyone else, go to the cargo hold and wait. Every moment you waste fighting is one less I can use to convince the aquatic demons to stop their assault.”

The banging against the ship’s hull intensified.

Despite growing chaos, most people obeyed Dimitry’s command.

But not everyone.

A crossbowman, oblivious to his orders, continued firing bolts into the ocean.

One of the combat mages rallied beside Dimitry stepped forward. “Propelia.”

The weapon flew out of the soldier’s hand and plunked into water.

“Well done,” Dimitry said. “Now follow—”

A spear flew at him.

Adrenaline burned through his veins, and a damning chill shot down his spine. He couldn’t move. His legs froze. Dimitry was going to die.

“Protectia!”

The spear hit an invisible object and collapsed to the deck with a hollow clunk.

Dimitry looked back to see a girl with curly red-brown hair. “Thank you.”

Angelika grinned. “Stop ogling me and do your damn job, diplomat!”

“Right.” He fought back the urge to shower her with compliments and words of gratitude, making way for the ship’s side instead.

A glance at the ocean revealed a pale face peeking out of green waters. It had the slender features of a female, except for the two knob-sized blue horns protruding from wet gray hair and translucent skin colored pink by underlying tissue.

He fixed his gaze on her round, yellow irises on otherwise black eyes. “I am Dimitry! We’re not here to fight! We’ve come to negotiate peace between your people and ours!”

The aquatic demon submerged, disappearing from sight.

Was she disinterested in what Dimitry had to say? Did he scare her away? Would everyone die as a consequence of his failure?

Among the stressed creaks and thumping of bombarded planks echoed desperate prayers from the cargo hold below, several of them calling for Zera’s guidance. The sorceresses clustered behind Dimitry fidgeted.

The thumping abated, quieter than before.

“Are we saved?” a red-robed woman asked.

“No,” another one responded. “The demons are regrouping to attack in full force.”

Which of the two was right? Dimitry didn’t know. Although he appeared composed to set an example for his temporary subordinates, his legs were on the verge of collapse.

Time passed.

Soon, only hushed tones, the crashing of waves against a weathered ship’s hull, and the relieved sighs of combat mages filled the air.

A head emerged from the water. Unlike the one from before, it had a masculine physique indicating that corrupted creatures expressed sexual dimorphism. Two long, blue horns sticking out from ear-length gray hair, it watched Dimitry with unflinching yellow and black eyes.

Then another aquatic demon.

And another.

Finally, over a dozen translucent pink faces gazed from out of the water’s surface. They watched in silence.

“Are you the Dimitry?” a steady but threatening voice asked. It belonged to a female with white hair.

Dimitry remembered to breathe. Arms folded behind his back, he stepped closer to the ship’s handrails. “Indeed. Do you know of me?”

“How is he making those… sounds?” A sorceress whispered. “Is it truly magic?”

“I didn’t hear him chant a spell. Is he a mumcaster?”

“Silence, both of you. Let the Jade Surgeon focus.”

The aquatic demon swam closer. “One of our brothers held captive on a log vessel spoke of your existence.” She glanced to the side. “Surger!”

A second female approached the first. “Give me your orders, Warcaller.”

“Deliver news of the mudgill delegate’s arrival to the ascendants. If we do not return by evening, we have fallen in glorious battle with his retinue.”

“With haste.” Surger swam towards distant mountainous and green land before diving into aquamarine depths.

“What are they saying?” Angelika asked.

Shelving the thought that aquatic demons had strange names, Dimitry turned to face his guard. A sorceress jumped back at the sight of his face as if he were a corrupted creature himself.

Dimitry ignored the startled woman. “Angelika, go downstairs and warn everyone to avoid attacking our potential allies at all costs. If anyone so much as picks up a weapon, I’ll strangle them myself. Tell Lukas’ representative to release a pigeon informing the queen of our successful encounter with the target. While you’re in the cargo hold, ask the captain if we’re still fit to sail. Our goal is still to dock on Fishman Island by tonight.”

“Got it.” Angelika dashed away.

After taking a slow, deep breath, Dimitry returned his attention to the sea creatures, who bobbed up and down with each ocean wave. “We wish to speak to your Hierarch.”

“On what matters?” Warcaller asked.

“Our leader wishes to end our long and meaningless war, so we both may focus on the real enemy.”

“What enemy do you speak of, mudgill?”

“Rock giants.”

The aquatic demons whispered amongst one another, their recently emotionless faces now filled with what might have been curiosity or bewilderment.

“Where has your discipline gone?!” Warcaller shouted through sharp teeth, ending her troops’ idle chatter in an instant. She turned her attention back to Dimitry. “Is it true you mudgills do not command the rock giants?”

Dimitry shook his head. “We do not. They attack our settlements constantly and with intensified vigor during full moons, unsatisfied until they slaughter my people to the very last. Although we fight bravely, their numbers continue to increase. We fear that it is only a matter of time before they overwhelm us.”

“It is the same for us.” Warcaller’s yellow eyes blinked. “Although our plights align, we demand the release of the brother you hold captive beyond your walls as proof of your sincerity.”

Did she speak about the aquatic demon Dimitry pretended to be during his voyage from Coldust? It would be problematic if she was. He couldn’t return someone that didn’t exist.

Should he reveal that he lied about their comrade’s existence?

No.

Introducing humanity as a species of liars was foolish, and to avoid that, Dimitry displayed the very quality he hoped to hide.

He wore a false and sorrowful countenance. “Your brother fought valiantly amongst us on the night of the last full moon. Unfortunately, many died in our battle against the rock giants. I know not if burial is a custom amongst your people, but it is the treatment we gave your fallen brother.”

“Release him into the ocean.”

“What?”

“When a myrmidon dies, they must return to their birthplace.”

Myrmidon. Is that what they called themselves? Dimitry lowered his head. “Pardon my ignorance.”

“Ignorance does not belong to the mudgills alone.” Warcaller hid her sharp teeth under pale pink lips. “I knew not that your kind could discuss matters peacefully. We too have much to learn.”

“Then we are in agreement.” Dimitry stood over the ship’s carved rails. “Are you willing to take the first step in our mutual education by leading us to your hierarch?”

“Very well. We will guide your log vessel to our shores to speak with the council of ascendants. Surely, you mudgills aren’t so dishonorable as to strike at those whose backs are turned?”

“You have my guarantee, and I wish that we receive the same courtesy.” Dimitry tapped his cloak’s pocket where Precious sat, communicating to her to watch for lies. He hoped her emotion sense worked on aquatic demons, too. “I trust there are no traps waiting for us.”

“Traps? We would never disgrace ourselves so.”

Three weak pinches against his abdomen. The blue-horned creature spoke the truth.

“Your honorable words are enough to persuade me.” Dimitry smiled. “We’re ready to go when you are.”

Warcaller raised her spear. “Brothers and sisters, do not throw down your guard! We head for Waira!”

“To Waira!” a dozen aquatic demons shouted in unison.

Legs still trembling with adrenaline, Dimitry looked back to give orders. Meeting his gaze were soldiers, crewmen, and a stewardess, all with agape mouths and stupefied eyes. They must have climbed out of the cargo hold at some point. How long have they watched him?

Dimitry stood up straight. “Ladies and gentlemen, as a result of your bravery and restraint, the myrmidon have granted us permission to enter their home, Waira. We’ll be following them. Is everyone ready to sail?”

Unlike Warcaller and her gang of aquatic demons, Dimitry’s subordinates didn’t shower him with heartfelt shouts.

Only relieved faces and respectful nods.