Chapter 12: Chapter 11: Roll for Initiative

“How do I use it?” I asked, reaching out to the hand-mirror. It was about the size of a small tablet back on Earth, with an ornate silver frame and delicate handle.

Shia slapped my hand away, and I gave her a wounded glare. She said, “You don’t. Only a Mage can operate an enchanted item.”

Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten that detail, but now that she mentioned it, weren’t Mages broken down into subclasses? Did that affect the activation?

Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask.

Avoiding Tomas’ gaze, she took the mirror from him and held it before my face, a warm hum seeming to vibrate the air around her. I stared at my reflection for a second, until the reflected scenery of my Council Chamber blurred and shifted to a lavish parlour.

In the foreground, a man sat in a high-backed chair covered in ornate carvings that might have constituted a coat of arms. I couldn’t see his body, but a jowly face and broad, soft shoulders betrayed his size. His face was locked in a sneer—maybe stuck there forever by a strong gust of wind as a child—wispy grey hair somehow looking regal even though it was combed over.

Despite the enchanted communication between us, the presence he bore was enough that he could feed gravel to a beggar and suddenly find himself worshipped. I almost felt like an ant, staring up into the infinite expanse of the universe, comprehending everything and nothing at once.

Almost.

“Duke Ribera, I assume?”

He gave an oily smile. “And you must be the new King, let’s see… why, I don’t believe I know your name, do I?”

I scoffed. “You can just call me ‘sire’ like everyone else. ‘Your Highness’ is also acceptable.”

Gasping, he put a hand to his chest. “My, it seems our new regent is a boor, lacking in the proper manners required of the aristocracy. Whatever shall we do?”

I growled. That sure was a lot of words to say he didn’t recognise my rule.

“And so unrestrained as well! Truly, how low this kingdom has sunk.”

“Cut the shit, Aleister,” I said, biting my tongue. “What do you want?”

“What every good noble wants,” he replied. “The prosperity and good health of my people.”

“Uh-huh.” I nocked an eyebrow. “And selling off all your food so you can fill up your coffers, that’s for the ‘prosperity and good health’ of the people?” His words sounded sweet, but his voice sounded like he was talking to a particularly mangy dog.

He didn’t care about anyone but himself.

Chuckling, he said, “I see you have planted spies in my duchy already—a bold move, considering your position.”

“My position?”

“Indeed.” With a snort, he said, “New to your reign, immensely weakened and with a lack of capable subordinates. At least, you should lack them, since I poached most of the King’s court for myself while the Arbiter did her work.

“They were all too happy to escape her wrath, but I must say, whatever possessed her to…” — he grimaced — “summon an obvious peasant from another world to perform the task is beyond me.”

Hey, it’s not like I asked for this! I wanted nice, simple dungeon crawling, not a cheap RTS knock-off with the added bonus of actual responsibility.

He continued, “Regardless, you have something of mine.”

My heart returned to my mouth. Had he found out about Konstantin already? After promising to protect the man’s family, would I end up breaking it instantly?

“And what’s that?” I asked, swallowing.

“The crown, of course.” He grinned, looking like a shark that had found a wounded seal. “If you abdicate now, there will not have to be any… unpleasantness.”

I scoffed, then said, “What kind of unpleasantness we talking?”

He scoffed back. “The sort where I eliminate you and everyone associated with you, including their families, all the way down to, say… the third generation should suffice.”

My nose twitched as a fiery rage gripped my chest. I didn’t know why, but these people, this place, had managed to worm their way into my heart when I wasn’t looking, no matter how little I wanted the burden. I was building something here. If he threatened that, there was no more room for negotiation.

“In the words of a wise man from my old world,” I said, “you can certainly try.”

Then I batted the mirror from Shia’s hand, eliciting a yelp as it arced through the air and shattered on the stone floor.

“Roll for initiative, motherfucker.”

Shia said, “Was that really necessary?”

“Sorry,” I replied, baulking at her wounded expression, “he pissed me off.”

Nodding, she frowned. “Down to the third generation? Do you think he’ll really do it?”

“Without a doubt.” And if he did, it’d all be on me. As I returned to my throne, my mind racing, Duke Kalvin entered.

He eyed the mess quizzically for a moment before spotting Shia, at which point his face lit up. She, meanwhile, stuttered some kind of apology before sprinting for the exit.

“Shia, darling?” said Duke Kalvin. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing!” she said, far too tense for it to be true.

“Then why are you rushing out as though your legs are on fire?”

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“I, um…” She looked to me for help, but I just folded my arms. Even if I didn’t want the drama unfolding in front of me, she had to deal with her issues. After a pregnant pause, she continued, “I am required to participate in the gathering of ingredients!”

“For… magic?”

“No, for refreshments.” Without delay, she vacated, leaving Duke Kalvin gaping after her.

He turned his attention to me, trying and failing to form a question.

I shrugged. It wasn’t my place to get involved. His features twisted in sadness, and I had to suppress a pang of guilt. While I didn’t know exactly what had happened, it did sound like he’d been a pretty shitty dad. But at least he was trying now. I didn’t have his side of the story, either, and from what I’d heard, it was after his encounter with Tenma he’d become… absent. I didn’t blame him.

I’d have checked out too if I had to face a fucking Demon Lord.

Regardless, he needed to know about my conference with Aleister, so I told him.

His face turned crimson. “We must strike, sire. If you do not take his threats seriously…” His voice was low, but it was a dangerous quiet, an icy rage exuding from his pores.

“Then it’ll bite us in the ass,” I said, but I didn’t know what else to say. How should I deal with this?

“Sire,” said Hana, placing a warm hand on my shoulder, “if I may advise you?”

“Please.” If it was bad advice, I could always ignore it, but at that moment I was open to any suggestions.

“Take the rest of the day to consider our options.”

I nodded, and dismissed Duke Kalvin.

***

We would meet the next day to discuss our course of action. I lay atop a giant four-poster bed with luxurious silk sheets, the spacious room warmed by a crackling fireplace in the wall opposite me.

Being King had some perks, I supposed.

A door next to my window gave way to a balcony, which looked over the plaza. This now had more activity, but most of the buildings remained defunct.

I’d considered filling it with various ministries, before Aleister ruined my train of thought.

He’d threatened aggression, but they were just that—threats. I couldn’t prove anything he’d said, either, so it was my word against his. If we marched, maybe we’d overcome him, but what would the cost be? How much damage would it cause, and how would that sway the public’s opinion of me?

Being seen as a tyrant was a quick way to get myself hated. Another perk of the job. I had to proceed with caution, and that meant I needed more information. As much as I didn’t want to send Cannara back to Ribera, it looked like holding back wasn’t an option.

A shifting shadow in the corner caught my attention. My eyes snapped to the disturbance as a skinny man wearing all black leaped toward me, brandishing a wicked dagger. A hood and mask obscured his face, and his weapon glinted dangerously in the firelight.

My stomach churned, and my heart clenched a death grasp on my uvula. I couldn’t help it. I screamed.

Then the knife fell toward my face. Rolling aside, I panted, the cold grip of fear threatening to freeze me in place. The assassin scrambled over the bed even as I fell off it, thumping to the floor.

Pain spread up my back. My door slammed open, a pair of burly men in red shirts and chainmail charging through, spears drawn. They jabbed at the assassin. He slipped and weaved through the blows, cutting both guards' throats out quicker than I could breathe.

He turned to me. My breath caught, and I scrambled back toward the wall. System, some kind of emergency defensive skill would be really nice here, thanks!

…

Why was this not surprising?

I fought not to cry. After leaving behind my old, miserable life, I’d started a new one, and while it was still early days, I’d already found more meaning here than I ever had on Earth. More purpose.

Why did it have to end so soon?

Suddenly, a sword protruded from his chest. Sticky blood splattered across my face as the man gurgled, going limp on the blade before collapsing when it was pulled out. A coppery smell penetrated my nostrils, making my stomach turn.

Hana stood over the corpse, her face fraught with worry.

“Sire, are you all right?”

I stared back at her, my eyes frenzied. Of all the stupidest questions a person could ask…

“Do I look like I’m all right?!” I roared. I instantly regretted it, seeing the hurt flash across her face, but didn’t I have a damn good reason?

I’d been about 5 seconds away from being turned into a fucking shish kebab! Breathing deeply, I looked up at her, trying to keep the tears from my eyes.

“Stay with me,” I said. “Please.”

“Of course, sire.”

Ostensibly, this was so she could protect me while I slept, but it ended up not being necessary.

I didn’t sleep a fucking wink.

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