Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 36 - A godless city - Part Two

The addition of a second Fallen Angel to Orphiel’s Faction had not gone unnoticed. Just as soon as I could comfortably accommodate the expense, I Summoned Orphiel to the storage room I had been calling home for the past couple of days.

*Tingling*

The golden-haired youth appeared in his usual romanesque toga while levitating a few feet off the ground. “Ah...My Tyrant...I can explain!” Orphiel insisted weakly, “My new believers kept summoning me to do battle with the undead, but I am not a frontline combatant!” He made a point of showing off his thin arms and delicate hands, “So I used what was left of Sabriel’s Divinity to ‘ahem’ recruit a sibling that would be better suited to the role...”

“Sibling?” I demanded, “Under Bloodline, it shows Ophelia is your daughter.”

Orphiel’s already pale skin somehow managed to grow a shade paler, “Well...It’s not an altogether inaccurate assessment of the situation...She was made from a piece of me...”

“What? No, let me guess. You plucked out one of your own ribs and used the ‘Divinity’ to make another Fallen Angel in your own image?” I snickered sarcastically.

Orphiel grew incredibly still and subconsciously moved his right arm to shield his ribs.

“Seriously?!” I demanded incredulously.

“How did you know that?” Orphiel asked weakly.

“Lucky guess,” I muttered, surprised that the Orphiel had somewhat mimicked the creation story for Adam and Eve and been completely unaware of it. “So why is your copy going to do any better than you did?” I pressed.

Orphiel perked up and regained some of his usual confidence, “Actually, that is well in hand at the moment. I solicited the services of a trainer to toughen Ophelia up and assist in her training.”

I sighed and rubbed at my temples in frustration, “And the reason YOU didn’t submit yourself to that training is?”

Orphiel shrunk back slightly and nervously wet his lips, “I uh...My Class is better suited to inspiring and leading now,” he insisted weakly, “It would be far better to have a loyal subordinate fill the role for close-quarters combat.”

“And you didn’t consider that perhaps some training would help you better survive combat in general? That your ‘leadership’ and ‘inspiration’ wouldn’t be beneficial in combat situations?” I demanded dryly.

Orphiel winced but said nothing in reply.

“Whatever training you signed Ophelia up for, you are going to match it for the next month,” I commanded, issuing a mandatory quest to enforce it, “If you don’t, Ophelia will be granted your title and leadership of your Faction.”

Orphiel looked horrified, “My Tyrant! Please! I-” His pleas ended abruptly as I ended the Summons.

Ril snickered in amusement in spite of her deep concentration.

“How much longer until you can bind the stones to the gateway?” I asked anxiously. We were running out of time. The Mothers Moon would be arriving soon, and if Lash and I missed it then it would be three years before we would have another chance at having children.

I honestly didn’t know if I was ready to have kids. However, I was pretty sure that if I waited until I was absolutely certain I was ready, it would mean forcing Lash to wait a decade or more for her chance to be a mother. Seeing Lash happy was something I treasured about my new life, and I would do just about anything to see her smile.

“Half a day?” Ril replied uncertainly, “Maybe a little longer...In either case, I will need the anchor soon.”

“Kestrel?” She had been so quiet that I had momentarily forgotten she was there, “I need you to inform guard Captain Morris that I need his guardsmen to provide protection in the courtyard.”

Kestrel just stared blankly at me for a few moments before shaking her head, “I uh...” She shook her head again, this time with more force, “I’ll get right on it...” Kestrel insisted, her tone conveying a lingering sense of shock. As she got up to leave and took hold of the door handle, Kestrel paused, “Was that really an Angel?” She asked quietly.

I nodded, “It was,” I confirmed somewhat ambivalently. I had long since lost my sense of awe over the existence of Daemons and Angels. In just about every respect, they were little different from any other monsters of the labyrinths.

Kestrel’s eyes grew wider for a moment before she hurriedly looked away and began opening the door.

“It isn’t much of a secret for the time being,” I continued, “So you have my permission to inform the Regent.” Kestrel was liable to inform him anyway, so I figured I would set her conscience at ease. The Regent wouldn’t be stupid enough to blab anything important to those who couldn’t be trusted anyway.

Kestrel quietly nodded and left the room, closing the door behind herself as she hurried off down the hall.

“Better to get started sooner rather than later then,” I grunted and opened the door again and used a rope to make a carrying handle for Ril’s barrel. “Are you coming?” I asked Lash.

Lash nodded and swept up the blankets we had been using for bedding and slung them over one shoulder while cradling toofy against her chest with the other.

“Might as well wait by the gateway until it is finished,” I agreed with her assumed train of thought. Minutes might make all the difference considering the degree of uncertainty in traversing the gateway exchanges necessary to allow our combined return.

Proceeding to the courtyard, we found it almost empty. Besides a few civilians washing clothes and some of the orphans playing tag, there was no one else around. Most likely, the militant priests were all fighting the undead from atop the walls while the majority of the rescued civilians prayed in the chapel or hid away in their assigned quarters.

Recognising Dante from the small pack of orphans, I gave him a small smile and waved as I brought Ril over to the location I thought would provide the best access for those exiting the gateway without obstructing any of the prominent entrances to the covered passages surrounding the courtyard. I vaguely recalled a teacher from high school referring to the veranda-like passages as an arcade but saw little benefit in the trivia to my current situation.

After receiving my acknowledgement, Dante quickly became the collective centre of the gathered orphans’ attention.

*CLANG*

However, this attention immediately shifted when the huge cast-iron gateway materialised from thin air and crashed to the ground in the corner of the courtyard.

They weren’t the only ones who were surprised either. The few civilians in the immediate area cried out in alarm and ran a short distance away before becoming confused by the lack of activity taking place around them. Besides the appearance of the crude piece of ironwork, there didn’t seem to be anything that warranted being afraid of.

All the same, the civilians were thoroughly relieved when Captain Morris and his guardsmen arrived a short while later.

By the time they had arrived, I had already driven the long iron anchoring stakes through the feet of the gateway and firmly locked it in place.

“When fully enchanted, this gateway will connect to its twin in the capital,” I explained gravely, “Once the gateway becomes active, civilians will be able to be evacuated and soldiers will be able to reinforce and retake the city.”

The guardsmens’ eyes grew wide with surprise and they began murmuring amongst one another.

“However,” I let that word sink in for a few moments just to make sure it carried the correct amount of weight, “Activating the gateway will fail if you do not maintain ‘her’ absolute safety!” I pointed at Ril who was peeking out of the top of her barrel, “She is the only one able to activate the gateway! Without ‘her’ there is no evacuation and no reinforcements! Do you understand me?!”

Morris responded immediately, having the advantage of being somewhat aware of my plans. “Sir!” He snapped a crisp salute, triggering a trained reaction from his men.

“Sir!” The guardsmen echoed with varying degrees of awareness.

Captain Morris immediately set about establishing a rotating guard detail, posting guardsmen at the entrances to the courtyard as well as the surrounding roof. Morris even assigned the largest guardsmen to be Ril’s bodyguards, the glorified body blockers intended to serve as literal meat shields should the situation demand it.

“The ritual for the enchantment draws large amounts of mana and serves as a powerful beacon for monsters,” I explained to Morris, “With so many undead drawn to this location already, there is a very real possibility that the final stage of the ritual will trigger more powerful undead to make an attack on the cathedral.”

Morris nodded in understanding, “My men and I had noticed the horde was growing somewhat restless,” he admitted, “But we will do our best should the worst occur,” he promised solemnly.

“A DOLLY!” The little girl’s scream immediately drew everyone's attention.

Toofy was besieged on all sides by a small swarm of children, one of which was a small girl tightly hugging a crude cloth doll with pointed ears.

“Can I have a dolly?” Another little girl asked eagerly, triggering a host of requests from the other children.

“Hrm...” Toofy made a show of dramatically crossing her arms over her chest and scratching her chin, “You all good babies?” Toofy asked with painfully transparently obvious faux seriousness.

Some of the older boys grumbled and looked uncertainly at one another.

“I’ve been good!” One of the little girls called out earnestly, “I brushed my hair, and, and, I didn’t start no fights.”

As one, the children all turned to take a look at the little girl and then back to Toofy again, waiting to see how she would react.

Toofy grinned and a second stuffed doll materialised in her hands. Walking through the crowd of awestruck children, Toofy handed the little girl the doll and then patted her head while nodding solemnly, “Good baby.”

All at once, the remaining children began clamouring for Toofy’s attention while the two girls with dolls shied away and began to play.

One of the boys that had been playing with Dante ran off towards the chapel and returned a few minutes later with a concerned-looking mother carrying a toddler in tow. Briefly slipping free of his mother's grip, the boy pressed through the mass of children and pointed back to his mother while saying something that was drowned out by the voices of the other children.

Toofy nodded and handed the boy a pair of simple puppets, ruffling his hair before sending him back to his mother.

Leading the boy back to the chapel, the mother seemed conflicted as she glanced back towards Toofy and the growing crowd of children.

As the hours slowly passed, Toofy continued giving away knick-knacks and little toys to any children that asked for them. The parents of those children who were lucky enough to have them were initially reluctant to allow their offspring anywhere near Toofy. However, that reluctance gave way to passive acceptance when it required literally locking their children away in order to prevent it. There was another reason for their rather significant shift in opinions, Toofy had food.

The rations being provided through my quest were serviceable. Mainly consisting of dried, smoked, and salted fish meat as well as hard crackers, the rations would keep you going in a crisis. However, Toofy had fresh fruit, vegetables, nuts and even boiled sausages. All it took was a little boy complaining about being hungry before Toofy began sharing her secret stash. Her extradimensional space prevented food from rotting and even prevented cross-contamination between items.

As Ril’s ritual continued making progress, I placed the mana stones she had prepared previously into each of the respective receptacles on the gateway. Beyond that minor assistance, there wasn’t much else I could do, so I sat down beside Lash and did my best to wait patiently while keeping an eye out for trouble.

With each passing moment, I felt a mounting sense of dread, expecting a rotting colossus or even some sort of bone dragon to come looming over the rooftops. However, as Ril’s ritual began to draw to a close in the late evening, nothing had yet to materialise.

I wasn’t the only one being paranoid either. Morris had brought all of his guardsmen on duty for the final stretch of the ritual.

The Gnolls remained vigilant on the walls. Their keener senses and ability to see in the poor illumination detect nothing amiss beyond the horde’s gradually increasing restlessness.

Rikit reported that she felt like they were being watched by a hidden enemy, but she had no evidence to support it beyond intuition.

“It is done,” Ril declared with an exhausted sigh before slipping down beneath the water.

“She’s drowning!” One of the guardsmen cried in a panic as she and the other guardsmen on duty quickly dropped their shields and weapons to try and pull Ril out of the water.

“Stop!” I ordered, “She breathes water, leave her alone.”

The two guardsmen sheepishly bowed in apology and stepped back when I moved Ril’s barrel over beside Lash and Toofy, who had long since worn herself out playing with the children.

“Ahem, Tim?” Kestrel cleared her throat to get my attention, “The Lord Regent would like to know if you will be leaving Mournbrent now. The capital is ready to activate the gateway on their end and are just waiting for confirmation.”

I didn’t answer right away and turned to the guard Captain Morris instead, “Are you and your men alright with staying behind until there are enough reinforcements to cover the watch on the walls?” I asked while doing my best not to inadvertently pressure him into accepting the role just to try and appease me.

“We will stay,” Morris replied stoically, “There has been talk of attempting to make contact with the other guard posts and rescuing possible survivors once the horde is broken. We want to be a part of that. This is our city and we want to see this through to the end.”

I nodded to show I accepted his decision and was glad to see my faith in the man was not misplaced. He was going to make a loyal Overseer. “RIKIT! WE ARE LEAVING!” I called out loudly, certain that she would hear me and rally her pack.

True enough, a number of heckling cries echoed over the rooftops and soon saw the hunched forms of the Gnolls scaling the inner walls and leaping down into the courtyard. The Gnolls not on guard came loping out of the adjoining corridor awaiting commands from their pack leader, Rikit.

“We are leaving,” I repeated, “But the gateway will only be active for a fixed amount of time, so make sure your pack moves as a group and that no one is left behind.”

“Rikit do! Hehehe, Rikit Do!” Rikit agreed excitedly.

I turned my attention back to Captain Morris, “Morris. Can you gather all the civilians together? If we are fast enough, everyone should be able to pass through and still give the army enough time to send a reasonable amount of reinforcements before the gateway needs to recharge.” It gnawed at me that I was delaying mine and Lash’s return, even if it was only by a matter of minutes, but I did my best to resist succumbing to my selfish impulses.

“I will get right on it sir!” Morris promised and immediately hurried off to do just that, hastily organising his men into teams to fill the Gnolls place on the walls and to gather the civilians in the courtyard for evacuation.

Forming a tight line in front of the gateway, with Lash carrying Toofy and myself carrying Ril in her barrel, the Gnolls obediently formed up behind us.

Morris and his men didn’t take long to rouse the civilians who had been preparing for an evening Mass in the chapel.

Expecting the abbot to be upset by the interruption of a religious service, I was surprised when he actively encouraged the civilians to leave through the gateway. There was a manic energy to the man that had not been present before Orphiel’s arrival and it was incredibly strange to witness his transition to a near zealot-like state.

Then again, for someone who had dedicated their life to a faith expecting nothing to come of it, the revitalization of its very foundations in its darkest hour sounded like just the sort of thing to change a man. Well, that and meeting your new god in person. That alone would be enough of an excuse for the abbot’s change in attitude.

When the last of the civilians were lined up, and the children were securely held in the arms of the adults, I gave Kestrel the signal to have the capital activate the connection between the gateways.

Firmly holding Lash’s hand I nervously kept an eye on the surrounding rooftops. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I could feel a profound sense of malice, but no desire for immediate violence. Whoever it was seemed content to simply watch, for the time being at least anyway.

As gateway came to life, I didn’t hesitate in stepping forward and pulling Lash alongside me.

Momentarily disoriented, a combination of forward momentum, muscle memory and no small amount of bodyweight kept me walking forwards until Lash tugged on my arm and caused me to change direction.

It was just as well she did. I very nearly crashed into the Asrusian soldiers that had been waiting on the other side of the gateway.

We had entered what looked like the inner grounds of a castle’s walls, standing upon carefully laid flagstones in the shadow of an intimidating fortress.

Rikit and her pack eyed the soldiers nervously but followed us all the same.

Kestrel hurried to my side and motioned to an open area nearby, “We can wait there until the soldiers are done passing through,” she suggested helpfully. “Ah, but the Lord Regent has also requested to meet you in person if you would accept a minor delay?”

I shook my head, “Unless he is already here, I will not wait.”

Kestrel nodded and her resigned body language made it obvious that she had expected as much.

While we waited, the civilians were taken away by what looked like the royal family's personal soldiers. They had more expensive-looking equipment than the soldiers I was used to seeing, so assumed they had to be more important to justify the expense.

The number of reinforcements prepared for the cathedral drastically exceeded my expectations. By the time the gateway was rendered inactive, more than four hundred soldiers had passed through and left behind nearly as many. Best I could figure, the commander’s intention was to try and get as many soldiers through as possible and just stand down those who remained behind. It’s what I would do.

When the soldiers made way again, I issued a quest to Gric to open a connection to Sanctuary and then led the others forward.

Returning to Sanctuary was like a breath of fresh air, and I was even more relieved to find an organised militia guarding the area of our arrival. Similar to the humans, Gric had fortified the immediate area around the gateway and turned it into a kill zone. Thick trunks of briar formed knotted walls with natural arrow slits and funnelled all traffic towards the waiting ranks of halberdiers and archers at the far end of the tunnel. After we left the tunnel, a spiked chain net was lowered around the entrance and staked in place.

The majority of the militia was Goblins and Serpent-Kin, although the presence of a male Gnoll almost immediately drew the attention of Rikit and her pack.

Releasing a rather distinctive cry into the night sky, Rikit waited eagerly for a reply.

The male Gnoll giggled nervously and warily eyed Rikit’s pack.

When a similar cry echoed in reply, Rikit began to move towards the direction of the sound but stopped herself. Looking to me for permission, she released a low pleading whine while tucking her tail between her legs and lowering her head.

“Go,” I waved my hand dismissively, “Just be sure to obey my laws,” I emphasised the last part to serve as a reminder that even if she was going to engage in some sort of hierarch infighting, it would ultimately need to be nonlethal.

Rikit bobbed her head excitedly and bounded off into the darkness, headed for the crafting quarter. Her pack followed a short distance behind her, giggling and whining nervously.

Sanctuary had changed since I saw it last. Large luminescent fungi now adored the lower trunks of the trees in what I could only interpret as festive patterns. Similarly, large clusters of fragrant exotic flowers bloomed just about everywhere they could manage. Thoroughfares had been left alone, as well as a number of smaller winding paths, but they didn’t show any signs of trampling.

Careful to follow one of the larger winding paths, Lash and I made our way back to the Grove.

My expectations of the Grove being a peaceful and altogether tranquil retreat were immediately shattered as Clarice’s familiar voice loudly barked out barely intelligible, and profoundly loud, orders like an army drill instructor stereotype.

Entering the Grove soon revealed why.

Orphiel and his twin daughter were doing pushups. Or to put it more accurately, Ophelia was doing pushups with copper tinted sweat beading her brow, and Orphiel was crumpled in an exhausted heap in the grass.

Although somewhat ironically it wasn’t Orphiel that was drawing Clarice’s ire, as I had expected. It was Ophelia.

“Did I say you could stop?! Keep going! No slacking! Back straight!” Clarice was shouting herself hoarse and was even beginning to repeat herself.

Despite the verbal abuse, Ophelia continued determinedly eking out one more pushup after another.

“Tim, I thought that was you,” a familiar lilting voice commented from behind us.

Turning around, I was pleasantly surprised to find Hana and her sister standing patiently behind us, most likely having just returned to the Grove themselves.

“It’s good to see you, Hana, and even better seeing your sister up and about,” I admitted with some relief. A part of me had been wondering if her sister, Kohana, would ever make any progress in her recovery after what happened to her.

Hana smiled, although her badly scarred sister ducked behind her like a shield. “We were just taking an evening stroll to appreciate the damp soil. But Kohana likes to listen to Orphiel's singing, so-” Kohana pressed her lips tightly together and glared at her sister, but Hana continued on regardless, “-we were hoping to catch one last song before retiring for the evening. Bumping into yourself and Lash was just a pleasant surprise.”

Glancing back at Orphiel, he didn’t look like he was in good enough shape for anything. Then again...

I issued Orphiel a mandatory quest with very explicit instructions.

*Tingling*

“Yeah-eh-ah, a second Orphiel materialised in the air and began crooning with a simple musical accompaniment from an impressively large harp, every syllable and note thrumming with infused magic, “You are, my flower. My source, of power. Don’t leave, when I say, I, want you, to, stay.” Orphiel’s copy took on a pouty face. “That we, are two floors apart. Can't reach with my ha-arp...When you say, I, am, too, a-frai-d,”

*Tingling Tingling Tingling Tingling*

“Tell me why?!” Four new copies joined the first in perfect harmony for the chorus.

Unfortunately, I had drawn too much mana and was barely clinging to consciousness. Even so, as the darkness swallowed up my vision, I couldn’t help but smile, “Worth it,” I muttered as everything turned black.

Feeling the faint familiar burn of the Elixir running down my throat, I did my best not to choke on it as I concentrated on trying to will my eyes to open themselves.

I was propped up on a bed of thick moss in a cavernous room that I was not familiar with. Nearly every square inch was covered with a faintly glowing moss that slowly alternated colours seemingly at random. A recess in the wall near the bed had a stone basin that caught a slow stream of water delivered by a small root protruding from the wall. A huge thick curtain at the far end of the room rustled from a draft I couldn’t feel. Most importantly, Lash was straddled on top of me and had my chest pinned to the bed between her powerful thighs.

“Drink,” Lash insisted, pressing a fresh Elixir to my lips. Her eyes flashed like stars and I could smell Elixir on her breath. “Drink!” Lash repeated, prying my jaw open with her free hand and tipping the liquid into my mouth with the other.

Gulping down the Elixir, I tried to speak but between the mild numbing effect on my tongue, and Lash’s fingers jammed in my mouth, I couldn’t manage much more than an unintelligible grunt.

It wasn’t until the fifth Elixir was sloshing down my gullet that I realised why Lash was so worked up. Tonight was the night of the Orc’ Mothers Moon, and its arrival was growing closer with each passing moment. Still somewhat addled, I felt an added wave of confusion as I realised that I had lost a not-insignificant amount of time.

The fuzzy sensation in my head only intensified as I tried to account for the lost time. However, all my effort amounted to nothing more than a vague sense of being unconscious for a long time. IF that was true, then I had probably spent more mana than I intended, and Lash could hardly be blamed for taking things into her own hands.

All the same, I was struggling to piece my thoughts together and Lash was demanding more of my attention, growling dangerously as she held me in place with brightly burning eyes. As she fumbled for another Elixir, I used the momentary lapse in her concentration to try and pull her closer.

Perhaps having anticipated my ambush, Lash knocked my arms away and bowed down of her accord and fiercely pressed her lips against mine. Staring into her eyes, I felt the last vestiges of my self-control give way and seized her in an embrace that threatened to crush Lash’s ribs and spine. Pressing her closer and wrapped my arms tighter, waiting for her to yield.

A sharp pain in my neck momentarily eclipsed everything, rendering everything that came afterwards into a blur of emotions and sensations that came so hard and fast that I was unable to regain my grip on reality for quite some time. In the moment, it felt like the passage of eternity.

However, staring up at the faintly glowing moss on the ceiling I knew that less than a day had passed.

With Lash’s content snoring deafening me to the world and a lingering sense of fatigued pleasantly burning in my core, it took me a moment to recognise that something was horribly wrong.

I could feel an imminent sense of danger, and trespassers skulking on my territory.

Willing the tiredness from my limbs, I gently settled Lash onto the bed and staggered to my feet.

I repeated the words over and over again while I fumbled for a pair of pants and headed for the curtain.

Gric answered in a slight panic.

Pushing aside the curtain, I discovered a tunnel reinforced by thick tree roots making it obvious that I was underground. Following the winding tunnel, I stepped out from beneath a yawning opening in the trunk of a tree and found myself in the Grove. The sun had yet to rise and cast the surroundings in an eerie gloom.

“Tim!” Hana rushed over from the fountain, “There are intruders within Sanctuary! I am trying to slow them down but their magic sickens the soil!”

“Where are they?!” I demanded, all vestiges of fatigue now forgotten.

Hana pointed to the East, “They just entered the orchard!”

I repeated in my mind, hoping that Gric or the other Daemons were listening.

Issuing a call to arms quest, I sprinted out of the Grove and headed for the orchard. Even though there would be almost no one besides the Asrusian garrison and workers who would understand it, I still made the effort in hopes that the silent communication would potentially allow us to catch the invaders unawares.

Running past a pair of patrolling Serpent-Kin guards, I waved for them to follow me towards the orchard.

Without making a sound, they obeyed and fell into step behind me.

The next patrol, a group of seven Goblins, didn’t even need to be asked, immediately joining our ragtag force and making strange croaking noises like the giant toads of the swamp beyond the briar wall.

More Goblins began streaming out of the nearby houses, a scattered chorus of croaks spreading both ahead of and behind us.

With the orchards now in sight, I could see a rolling fog creeping over the roots of the trees and causing the trunks and branches to wither. Looking deeper into the fog, I could sense rather than see the enemy that had triggered my self-preservation instincts earlier and woken me from a lust-filled stupor.

With the enemy hiding behind a toxic fog, they clearly held an advantage. However, I had no intention of letting them keep it.

Sprinting ahead of the mustering force at my back, I beelined straight for the heart of the approaching fog. Taking a deep breath before crossing over, I gathered mana into my hands and prepared myself for the enemy’s attack. The fog was so thick I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of my own face.

[Spell has been mitigated by Toughness.]

*Crunch*

“AAAEEIII!!!” A lightly armoured figure had sprung up out of nowhere, their twin knives lightly cutting my abdomen before I accidentally trampled the figure underfoot.

I very nearly lost my concentration, so I decided that now was most likely the best time to make an attack of my own.

*BOOOOOOM!!!*

The crash of thunder was deafening, dissipating the fog instantly and sending dozens of dark figures flying.

The only one left standing was a tall woman in tight form fitting leather armour. Skin as pale as the moon, with eyes and lips simmering a blood red, she had somehow managed to keep her feathered tricorn hat atop her head in spite of the blast.

Holding what looked like a religious censor in her left hand, the tall woman smiled wryly as she raised it up to her eyes and then shook her head, “Well, that’s unfortunate,” she cackled in amusement, “Guess we do this the hard way!” In a blur of motion too fast for my eyes to follow, a cutlass appeared in her right hand and a hunting knife appeared in her left.

The woman’s minions had begun slowly getting to their feet, although those closest to me were staggering badly and were almost certainly deaf.

The man pinned beneath my foot tried to weakly stab at my leg, but he lacked the strength to accomplish much of anything.

A hailstorm of stones began showering down as the slingers found their distance.

“RAAAAAGH!!!” The ground shook and shuddered as a scaly croc-tailed gorilla the size of an elephant erupted out of the ground and leapt onto an unsuspecting opponent.

A forest of vines erupted from the ground and began binding any of the enemy not quick enough to leap away.

The tall woman seemed unfazed by these developments and avoided the vines with minimal effort, either hacking them down or nimbly leaping away. It was a feat that became that much more impressive as she managed to avoid being struck by the stones thrown by the slingers as well and still showed no signs of exertion.

*Crunch*

[You have slain {Vampyr Thinblood: 1 } +0 Exp]

The body beneath my foot turned to ash and collapsed in on itself, leaving only the Vampyr’s knives.

The tall woman, almost definitely another Vampyr, didn’t seem bothered by the loss of her subordinate in the slightest. “Now you decide to be ruthless?” She sniggered, “Pick a lane!” She disappeared and I felt a blade run along the back of my right knee, too shallow to do any real harm, I could still feel blood beginning to well along the cut.

The accumulated damage so far hadn’t even equalled a single lost hitpoint, but bleeding around Vampyrs was not a fantastic feeling either. It was obvious that whoever this Vampyr was, she was too fast for me to hit without her making a mistake. However, she didn’t seem capable of hurting me either. No one would deliver an attack as she had without at least hoping to try and cripple their opponent.

Why would she want to slow me down if I am already not fast enough to catch her?

I looked at the scale of the battle taking place around us as more and more of Sanctuary’s defenders arrived to drive off the invaders.

“Whatcha doing?” The strike came again, landing in almost the exact same place. Unfortunately for the Vampyr, the scratch had already closed, so she only accomplished reopening it again.

“DAR!!! BODYGUARD!” I had no time to try and figure out how to use the ability properly.

I issued a new quest to the Asrusians, Daemons and Angels, everyone I expected to be able to understand it.

“DAR DO!!!” The giant scaly gorilla immediately disengaged and began thundering towards the Grove.

Staring back towards the Grove, my heart caught in my chest as an amethyst sphere of light radiated through the trees.

“I guess the cat’s outta the bag now,” the Vampyr chuckled nonchalantly. “I totally expected her to be out for the count after that epic shagging you gave her though,” she shrugged, ‘Guess Orcs are just built differently.”

“Why are you doing this?!” I snarled.

The Vampyr looked surprised, “I thought you already realised I was the distraction?” She smiled wickedly and swatted aside a fist-sized stone that otherwise would have struck her between the eyes, “It’s nothing personal, really. It’s just, you chose the wrong side, and now you're in the way.” She shrugged as if there was nothing else to it. The Vampyr opened her mouth to say something else but then stopped abruptly. “Sunova!” She sheathed her swords and raised her middle finger in my direction with a snarl before reaching into her pouch and immediately disappearing into thin air.

Sensing that the Vampyr had left, for now, I left the remaining minions to everyone else and sprinted towards the Grove as fast as my legs would carry me. I hadn’t received any death notifications, so I could only hope that the Vampyr’s partner had been driven off without severe injuries.

As I drew closer I heard wailing and cries of anguish, and as I passed through the entrance to the Grove I nearly fell to my knees as the lion's share of my strength suddenly abandoned me.

Orphiel and Ophelia were unconscious and looked half-dead, their bodies appearing drained of nearly all their vitality. In addition to the withering, Orphiel was heavily scarred and looked like he had been rolled around in a bonfire.

The explanation quickly became obvious as I spotted Hana cradling her sister in the shelter of a massive blackened tree root. Both Hana and her sister bore signs of the same withering, although only Hana herself was conscious. Given both Angel’s close proximity, I could only assume they had taken the same attacks themselves and quite possibly offered their own form of limited healing.

With the cries coming from the hatchery, I felt my heart grow heavy inside of my chest. At that moment, I remembered that not all citizens of Sanctuary would provide a death notification.

I barely noticed as Daemons began swarming into the Grove. I felt numb.

Hana, Kohana, Orphiel and Ophelia were all hastily carried away. I almost didn’t recognise Clarice, Tobi and Emelia as they were retrieved from the hatchery. Emelia looked like a corpse, and her left arm was gone entirely. When Nadine was carried past a few moments later, I didn’t immediately recognise that she appeared to be unharmed. Or rather, she was so comparatively healthy compared to the others, that it had to have skewed my perception.

With no sign of Lash, Toofy or Ril, I forced myself to begin slowly approaching the hatchery.

*****

Francis Asrus, the Lord Regent and current leader of the Kingdom of Asrus Faction, very nearly collapsed outright, barely managing to stagger backwards and slump into a nearby chair. Despite the prevailing chill of his study, Francis found himself drenched in sweat as a series of events unfolded themselves in his memory. Far too alert to be able to dismiss the events as a dream, the mandatory quest that had woken him from his earlier slumber gained much-needed context.

Francis had appeared fully clothed in a woodland grove that bore the scars of dark magic. The giant trees had hollowed insides formed inside of them to provide rudimentary shelter, although only one of them seemed truly large enough to accommodate the Ogre that was standing before him.

Recent reports had not done justice to the drastic changes in the Tyrant’s physique. Where once his Species had been in doubt, Francis could confidently agree that by appearances alone, Tim was most certainly an Ogre.

The Tyrant had just stared at his own reflection in a nearby fountain that appeared to have been grown to purpose rather than built. His expression had been oddly passive, bordering on indifference, or so Francis had initially thought.

“I’m going to kill them all for what they did...And you are going to help me do it...” The memory of the Tyrant’s deadpan delivery sent a fresh shiver down the Regent's spine.

It was only now, sitting in his chair, that the regent recognized the haunted look in the Ogre’s eyes for what it was.

Lacking the strength to rise from the chair, Francis issued a quest to the officers posted in Sanctuary to relay word of what motivated the Tyrant’s distress. Even as he was marvelling at the convenience the one-sided communication allowed, the on-duty military scribe arrived with a hastily written report. Making it clear that the officers in question were aware of the situation already and had likely been in the process of providing the report when Francis asked for it.

Just by looking at the scribe’s agitated body language, Francis could tell that the report held the answers he was looking for. Quickly scanning the page, Francis’s eyes grew wide with surprise, “Oh...I see...Yes, I think that would about do it...” He lowered the report to his lap and bowed his head.

A powerful undead spellcaster, a Liche, had somehow invaded Sanctuary along with a number of lesser Vampyrs and caused some collateral damage before being forced to retreat. Beyond a number of the Tyrant’s trusted companions, which alone likely would have warranted violent reprisal, was the deaths of several unhatched eggs that were undergoing incubation at the time of the attack.

If there was one that was taboo amongst Variants, it was the killing of children. By all accounts the eggs had belonged to Serpent-Kin and Goblins, who were by far the most prolific of the Tyrant’s subjects besides the Asrusians themselves. Francis took a morbid degree of appreciation in the fact that the Tyrant would just as likely have reacted the same if it had been Humans in the Goblins and Serpent-Kins place.

As loath as he was to admit it, a part of Francis couldn’t help but rejoice in spite of the tragedy. The Tyrant’s unwillingness to involve himself in the ongoing war taking place outside of the Labyrinth had been frustrating, to say the least. That wasn’t to say he and his generals had not deeply appreciated the considerable advantages already afforded by their alliance, but the presence of the Tyrant during a decisive battle could be exactly what they needed in order to turn the tide of the war.

Certain officers had suggested as much shortly before being stripped of their commissions. While he and his core of advisors agreed with the sentiment, Francis was profoundly relieved to discover he had made the right choice in refusing those officers suggestions in provoking the Tyrant through false flag operations. The oaths they had all sworn had enough loopholes that such an attempt would have been possible, but the Tyrant’s reaction proved the risk would not have been worth it.

What they had been given was a golden opportunity, and Francis was not going to waste it. The Tyrant was out for blood, and he would make sure the Tyrant got it.

The fall of Mournbrent had been too quick and far too precise for even the variant monsters to be capable of. They would have needed far more than just information in order to overcome the inner city’s considerable defences. The monsters would have required human allies to sabotage siege engines and garrisons, to open fortifications in their path.

At the very least, Francis could be certain that one or more of the Guilds would be involved. They had been far too active in scratching away at the crown's power and authority for far too long not to be. The real question was whether he could link the actions of the Guilds to the Empire or the Confederacy. Incriminating both of Asrus’ enemies would be ideal, but the Tyrant’s active involvement in prosecuting a war against the forces of either invader would be a considerable boon.

The trouble would be locating sufficient evidence of either party's involvement. Attempting to interrogate the undead would almost certainly prove fruitless as any undead strong enough to privy to worthwhile information would almost certainly be compelled to secrecy by its sire. Worse even than extracting information from a slave, the spawn of greater undead can be compelled to ignorance in addition to self-destruction when caught.

Then again, it was possible that the higher-ranked officers of the Empire's army laying siege to the city might know something sufficiently incriminating. Even if they don’t, they almost certainly held monsters as slaves, and that was a sore subject with the Tyrant already...Assuming that at least some of them were Variants, of course.

Contemplating the nature of their enemies' alliance, Francis couldn’t help but notice the similarities of opportunism between the Confederacy and Empire. They had coordinated well in the beginning but had since begun pursuing personal objectives, likely waiting for the first excuse to just dissolve the arrangement altogether.

The attack on Sanctuary didn’t seem planned with any greater objectives in mind. By all accounts, all it had managed to accomplish was the culling of unhatched eggs, injury of the Tyrant’s inner circle, and guaranteed that the Tyrant would be seeking revenge for it.

Undead were strange creatures, almost always lacking the empathy of living beings, but that had a tendency to make them more rational, not less. Provoking the Tyrant didn’t seem to fulfil any greater objective than the act itself.

There was the slightest chance that it may have been a reprisal for the Tyrant’s actions in Mournbrent, but that didn’t make much sense either. Besides culling a few hundred low tier undead and saving some civilians... ”Oh...” The Regent’s eyes grew wide.

The Tyrant had returned a god to a long-vacant seat of power. He even has an Angel under his own command, if Lt. Kestrel was to be believed, and Francis had little reason to doubt her. Considering the Tyrant’s existing command over Daemons, adding Angels beneath his banner shed a very different light on why those powerful undead would view him as a threat.

In fact, antagonising the Tyrant may very well be an attempt to lure him into a trap. Everything seemed to indicate this was the only viable cause for provoking the Tyrant, but it still didn’t seem quite right.

Rubbing his temple to try and keep the mounting stress migraine at bay, Francis realised that the enemies motivations were somewhat redundant at this point. Regardless of their motive, he now had no real choice but to assign their most elite soldiers to the Tyrant’s side. Whether this was all a trap or not, the Tyrant would be headed back to Mournbrent. The best Francis could do now was support the Tyrant’s vengeance and make the most of the opportunities provided in the process.