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(Vol 6) Chapter 12: Payback
🕑 Added 2024-08-03 15:20:10 +0000 UTC“Lord Carlisle,” the Fortuneteller declared at the table, “Fate has granted you 60 experience in [Knight], 30 experience in [Rogue], the Special Trait [Grudgetaking], and [Strategy] is upgraded to [Master]. Knight is changed to [Executioner]. It seems you’ve decided who you are, after all, Executor.”
Shit, we need to get him that regeneration capability, or-
Carlisle jumped out of his seat, slamming his fist down as he still stared dead on at the card. “Yes!” he called simultaneously, teeth bared.
Sammy blinked. Before her eyes, the traveler’s garb and overall form shifted and changed. For a very brief flash, he seemed to turn pitch black, and his head went animalistic — like a humanoid jackal, she realized. But an instant later it shifted again, and his form became much more Carlisle-like, as from the vision. Military garb, armor, a spear held in one hand.
Very interesting.
Slowly, Carlisle seemed to sober up from the emotional uptick. He sat back down, and his prior self bled away completely — he became Carlisle as Sammy knew him. His expression was haunted as he lifted a hand to touch an eye that had returned. His haunted eyes shot up to the Fortuneteller. “This future… it won’t happen?”
“Not exactly, anyway. You’ve shortcut things a bit. Even with this missing component. In more ways than merely your System statistics, hmm?”
Carlisle stared for a long moment, but he finally gave a little nod. “Revolution seemed increasingly inevitable under your flag. Now it is proven, and I see that it is not just your flag. Not just one flag.” He looked away, brooding severely. “I’d take that vision. Stars help me, I would. Since I was a teen, I fought and killed on the borders of civilization, thinking I was protecting it. A righteous path keeping the bestial and the savage off of the pristine grass the children played in. A fanciful lie.”
He scowled fiercely. “Now I think I understand the hatred of the Wildlands for us. I can’t remember my wife’s face. I was torn inside that I never had her painted. Is it my own worn mind to blame, crowded with too much blood and steel, as I’ve so long thought? The same thing I blamed for the faintest tatters left inside of my grandfather and the shreds of my father? Or… is it him? His theft of memory?”
The Fortuneteller didn’t answer, just watched him implacably. I don’t think I can know this. The effect seems lesser on humans, but it could worsen in the more susceptible.
Carlisle shook his head at the void. “He despises us. So we’ve all come to understand through you. Perhaps he was once the grand and worthy patriarch, but he betrayed that and life itself. He preserves nothing and would only destroy us. The signs are everywhere beyond that precious capital. And no sign is more evident than the one in our minds. More is taken from us with every passing day, and that taking makes him our greatest enemy.”
He returned his ever-intense gaze to the Fortuneteller and sat up, placing both hands on the table like a ruler ready to pass judgment. “I am sold out to this cause, Goddess. This revolution is a long time coming. It was in our bones, but the rest of us forgot. We won’t any longer, nor will we forgive.”
The Fortuneteller smiled. “So be it. I’ll let you get back to it with nothing more, then… General Carlisle.” She snapped her fingers and he was gone in a flash.
Fingers drummed on the table. Samantha spoke. “That went well. See? It’s not so hard.”
‘Why are we still here?’
“Why, you got somewhere special to be? Here, a place outside of time in the first… er, place.”
‘In some sense, I am always here. Or nowhere at all. But you are wasting energy.’
“You’re just going to be grumpy about this arrangement, huh? Well, fine. Let’s cut to the chase, I guess. Carlisle.” She left a dramatic pause, waiting.
‘Yes?’ The long-suffering tone was blatant. Sammy felt the lips of the Fortuneteller twitch as if wanting to purse.
“He’s… Drumroll please-!” No drumroll occurred, sadly. “... Not one of the Players.”
‘How very shrewdly concluded.’ The tone was flat. ‘Please, share your every little thought on the matter.’
“Thanks, I’d love to! His quick and total subservience was one clue, and the fact that the symbol on the table is a representation of both me and — I believe — him, as the jackals. While those could be representative of a Player, and show some sort of symbolism focus or something, the iconic representation of a jackal is… Death.”
Despite the pause, the FT refused to respond and just waited. ‘Patiently.’ Sammy continued, “And of course, we already have a Death! Sure, if Carlisle were a Player, he’d still have to serve me, but I had immediate suspicions he was one of these shard-type people like Canmore and the Daughters, maybe Dax, but under Crow, instead. Some sort of avenging angel type… these strong ‘bound by honor’ elements…”
More waiting. “You called him a sentinel, and his form flashed to something rather statuesque, akin to a humanoid anubis. Heck, Carlisle is kind of a stiff! Hehe! Anyway, sentinel statues watch over tombs a lot, and if you fuck with those sacred things, look out! So, that fits with what really tips him over the edge, I think.”
Fingers drummed on the table, uncontrolled by Sammy.
“And then there came the tarot card! Boom! Not a High Arcana card, but then I suppose that’s not guaranteed, right? And so much of it reflects Carlisle’s role. But I think this is particularly emblematic and instructive of his role cosmically, too. I’m the deity, under me are emperors, and then we have…
“A king! Not a high concept, not a cosmic entity — a person granted great authority who utilizes it for the sword. Military. You called him the Sober Sword! The executor or executioner aspects, combined with retribution, this is his soul blending into his role! What March? The March of Death!”
The fingers stopped drumming, hands poised expectantly for an actual end, finally.
Sammy continued. “And then there was the vision. So, to break this down piece by piece-”
The hands slammed down as fists. ‘Enough! Okay! You’ve more than made your point. Nicely done! You’re a flagrant genius. Now, would you please leave?’
Sammy grinned internally, with supreme smugness. Payback for all your runaway exits on Calrenazzod. How ‘bout them apples?
‘What?! How dare you-’
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Back on Calrenazzod — or rather, Heavenpeak above it — Sammy came to laying face first on the floor of the throne room.
Hey, what the actual fuck?! How?!
She was distracted by wheezing laughter coming from in front of her. Her hand, actually. She flipped it over to see the Ring of the Cheater’s nagi form doubled over, dying of laughter.
“Wait, how did you…?”
The figure looked up in shocked surprise as it was dead caught in stitches. It quickly moved to its usual still pose, though Sammy noted obvious strain to the face and shaking shoulders.
Barking a hysterical laugh and shaking her head, Sammy let it go and flipped over, calling a mirror portal over to check on Carlisle. She had to extend control to the mirror on the other side to levitate it, as it was lying on the bed pointed at the ceiling.
Carlisle was also somehow picking himself up off of the floor despite having been in bed when the vision started. He turned around to sit on his rear and look at the room in bewilderment. “This… this is going to be… different…”
Sammy cleared her throat and collected herself. “Are you alright, Lord Carlisle? I dunno why this keeps happening! Being on the floor, I mean.”
He looked up, then nodded. “I’m hale, Your Majesty. Thrown from the bed somehow. I would say it’s the System’s sense of humor. It hides it well, but I know it has one.”
Oh no. I don’t want to think about where that comes from. “Er, well, who knows! I wouldn’t go that far. Anyway, how’s the class?”
Carlisle frowned and squinted his eyes to ‘read’ internally for a few moments. “[Executioner]. Advanced offensively. Depleted defensively. I’ll adjust. And I have some [Rogue] levels. I’ll utilize it in support one way or another. As for [Grudgetaking]... it’s highly personalized but sets up those ‘executions’ that are implied, in a prolonged struggle. I have to be bloodied, though.
“It’s entirely offensive, but is split between boosting any attacks against or pursuit of the grudgee… and boosting a singular, deadly strike. [Executioner] has its own killing stroke that this can then boost. It ignores ‘luck, fate, and wound reduction effects’ but not wound negations. A kill is a kill, essentially.”
“I can personally attest to that usefulness,” Sammy said dryly. “Glad you’re on my side.”
He nodded slowly, still reviewing things judiciously.
“Well,” Sammy added, “I guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Thank you, Goddess. I will be leaving for Mot Mekess soon. I need to speak in person with Agatha and Oliver. While the time for war is not today or tomorrow, we need to prepare even now, and set the stage to be stronger for it. I have some new outlooks on how.”
Not a Player, but a key. Perhaps that’s even better for me.
Sammy grinned wide with satisfaction, and perhaps a bit of an entity beyond her was in it. “I have little doubt they’ll prove instrumental.”
✦•············•✦•···········•✦
Amid the many serious businesses conducted Below in the realm of Her Majesty Samantha, there were also many serious businesses Above, in Heaven. Amid those many serious businesses, some unserious businesses occurred, including one unfortunate misstep, as Merlin the Cat Sith saw it — the creation of more bloody cabbits.
They ran amok in chaos, doing whatever they wanted. Especially scrounging and begging for treats! In Heaven! This was not at all tolerable as far as he was concerned. Principally, she made them not only innocent but ignorant, even dare-he-say stupid. Well, not on Merlin’s watch would there be stupid things in Heaven!
On the promise of their favorite treat — so easily and disturbingly alluring them to any act — he gathered them up to fix the problem.
“... So, you see, as this simple outline indicates,” Merlin orated while floating on a platform near the chalkboard he was writing upon by psychokinesis, “basic speech involves a subject, a verb, and an object. Nothing even so complicated as the algebraic equations you… we’re working on figuring out, still.”
Merlin turned the platform around to survey the classroom of ‘Basic Education 101,’ at the prestigious Heaven’s Avengers Endgame Memorial University. A dozen cabbits in a garish mix of colors, all behind desks, blinked at him — cutely and blankly. One was dozing, actually.
“Gib carrots!” One of them with ‘lightning’ coloring called suddenly. “Hungry!”
“Yeah!” another agreed.
“Ah, yes,” Merlin said as he indicated to the first speaker with a paw. “This is a perfect example, thank you. ‘Gib carrots.’ No, Pikachee. That is not how you ask politely for food. You should say, ‘May I have a carrot, please?’ Why don’t you try it, hmm? ‘May I have a carrot, please?’ Go ahead.”
The cabbit blinked and made a face of intense concentration. He opened his mouth, closed it, thought about it, then finally spoke. “Please have carrots?”
Before Merlin could respond, the entire, suddenly very piqued classroom erupted in a chorus of “Please have carrots!” over and over.
Merlin sighed and shook his head, enduring the cacophony. They needed so much work.
She made these beings just to vex me, didn’t she? She must’ve!
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