Alchimia Rex

Dawn broke to the sound of beating drums, a melody that had become louder by the hour, as the Wildling tribe had marched from over the horizon all the way to Sinco’s walls. Leading it were the fighters, a horde of warriors barely a couple hundred maidens strong, a number that could’ve been dismissed had it been anything other than Orcs.

Each one was imposing in their own right, standing above the average man and built by rock-solid muscles. And none of them as dangerous as the two maidens leading the attack force. Two maidens that stood closer to three meters, one an Orc, broad as a house and rough in the sharpness of her figure. The other a feline, her musculature slick, and her skin marked by the scars of a thousand battles won.

Both walked within their own rhythm. The tall Orc matched the thundering beat of the drum. The Sabertooth slinked silently forward.

Between the two was a woman of almost ethereal beauty, a face carved with immaculate perfection, blue hair braided into a ponytail and showing her naked throat. Her skin was a healthy pink, softer than silk, and honey eyes piercing in their intensity. The maiden disguising as a human being no less lethal than the others.

And standing right in the center of this was a man that regretted they didn’t have armor available for him to use. The notion was silly, in a way. Rick knew logically he was at the safest he could’ve ever hoped to be right where he stood. The trio of maidens represented a threat that he doubted any could match, and Eva was in his shadow, just as an added precaution.

Yet before them stood Sinco, and Rick felt like he should have more than just a sword at his hip and some studded leather.

It was a city with a humble fishing port and an exorbitant wall. The construction had to be at least twenty meters tall, the dark stonework marred with scratches, mud, and dried blood. A barrier topped with spikes pointed outwards and downwards. There were some corpses hanging from the spikes, half-rotten.

There was a stench in the air that carried more than just death.

“Stinky.” Monica snorted, rubbing her nose.

“The smell is sulfur. There is some volcanic activity further east.” Eva commented casually. “Most of the elemental stones from Sinco are good for fire enchantments.”

“You’ve been here before?” Kiara asked with a sing-song, pretending to be focused on the spikes on the wall.

“Once.”

Rick could sense the discomfort through the bond, so he left the subject as it was. His mind wandered over to the idea of having a supply of sulfur in the area. Maybe he could use it to create some fertilizer?

“It is still a surprise to see them this weak. It will be an easy conquest. Maybe they’ll agree to exchange the city for a couple of boxes of gold?” Urtha chuckled darkly as she looked over Sinco’s defenses. Rick didn’t comment, unsure in what way the fortification appeared ‘frail’, but trusting the super-naturally empowered creature to not be needlessly boastful about such things.

Still, it was a head-scratcher how she’d see overcoming the walls as “easy”.

“Empty,” Monica reacted to his apparent dubiousness, making a vague nod in the direction of the top of the wall.

There were a grand total of four guards standing there. To their merit, those four became seven, and then twelve. And Rick wondered whether there was something else going on they weren’t privy of.

“This is close enough,” he said, gesturing at the tribe and waiting for his command to spread back through the other gathered forces. The beat of the drum slowed and stopped.

“We should attack, while they are still unprepared,” Urtha declared with a savage smirk.

Rick dismissed the idea. “If we can get them to take us in, we don’t need to fight. Besides, a fight would only piss everyone off.”

“Not us.” She snapped.

Kiara snorted, shaking her head in amusement. There was a look in her eye as she glanced from him to the city, as if gauging something only she could see.

With the halt of the drums, Rick left the tribe behind and made his way toward the gates of the city, flanked by the three maidens. The small group weaved through the handful of abandoned buildings as they approached, eyes peeled for potential threats hiding amongst the rubble. Behind them, the rest of the tribe was catching up and gathered along the Orcs. It multiplied their numbers with the weaker maidens that made-up their bulk, and magnified their force.

They began work to set up some rudimentary defenses in case Sinco opted to charge their location.

“The feral rush has been harsh on them,” Rick muttered under his breath, glancing at the abandoned farmland, the deep gouges of unearthed soil and the burn marks that littered every other area.

It looked like a war zone had rolled through the place, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. How many fights had been made against individual or small groups of ferals? How often had this continued until they opted to just abandon the safety of the farm and bunker in the tiny city?

Monica made a gesture with her head at something to the side. Movement within the rubble of another structure that was further off. Within the shadows of crumbled stone and wood.

Hungry eyes watched them.

“Feral?”

Monica sniffed, then growled, rubbing her nose and letting out a growl. The figure dashed away, vanishing into the debris. “Scared, hungry.”

He paused, glancing at the city and the guards on the walls, then at the pair of dark red eyes that were now peeking at them from further away. “Ignore her unless she tries to attack or something.” Turning to the imposing wall, he grimaced, craning his neck. “Call the Lord! I wish to speak! We come to help!”

“This is a waste of our time.” The Orc dropped her metal club, crossing her arms in resignation. “They knew we were coming. Why is the human not here yet?”

“Politics.” Kiara and Rick shared the shrug.

“If they delay and we have to attack, it’s better for the tribe if the sun is higher in the sky,” he added.

There was no more to be said. Just wait. The wind blew, shifting directions and mercifully taking away the scent of sulfur. Monica raised her head to sniff around a bit, glancing at the forest to the north with a frown.

Rick, mostly, focused on observing those atop the walls.

Their numbers had been growing, but the more there were, the worse their state. By the time there were a hundred, they weren’t even wearing the washed out blue uniforms the first handful sported; the weapons turning from metal spears into little more than sharpened wooden sticks.

Rick couldn’t help but feel like there had to be more somewhere else. A spear was useful against only the weaker maidens, if that. Was this a trap?

Shouldn’t the soldiers have better equipment? A city should be able to spare the resources at least for this many people. What of the others? The questions boiled as he glanced, waiting for something to pop.

Kiara’s hand gripped his, a grasp that was soft but unshaken.

“A king does not need to fear his meal.”

The conviction in the words startled him, but it did its job, the tension easing out. “I’m no king.”

Something about that amused her. Yet the sharp ambition in her eyes didn’t really vanish, merely hiding behind a mask of placid enjoyment of just being there. She looked at Sinco like a wolf did a wounded lamb.

After about an hour of wait, a man decked in silver armor stood above the very gate of the city, hoisted into a more visible position by some small ladder. The man’s features were hidden behind the glimmering metal.

“I could shoot him down with a lance from this distance.” Urtha muttered.

“Shush.” Rick scowled, stepping forward, arms wide and following the cordial bow he’d been practicing. Kiara mimicked it right beside him. “We greet Lord Thorley Darkton. I am the Father of this tribe, and come to offer aid! My name is Richard Cross.”

“And you may call me Miss Kiara.” The Succubus claimed, ignoring the roll of the eyes she got from Urtha.

“It’s not him,” Eva whispered from the shadows. “Not tall enough.”

There was a slight rattling in the armor. The man glancing down at him. “To help!?” The voice was amplified as if he were using a megaphone of some sort.

“There is some rudimentary truth detection in place,” the Succubus mumbled under her breath.

Rick didn’t react. “We heard Sinco was in dire straits because of the ferals. It is only natural to offer protection! We wish to settle down, and bolster the city however we can.”

“Truly!?”

“Is metal-man deaf?” Monica asked.

He kept his customer-service smile plastered on his face as he nodded. “Indeed!”

The one wearing the silver armor stepped down from the ladder, hiding back behind the wall and vanishing from sight. Rick shared a glance with the maidens accompanying him. There was an unspoken question hanging in the air.

“This is probably the last decent opportunity to attack.”

He glared at her. The Orc glared back, or rather, stared back. Her face allowed for a natural scowl to emerge out of even an otherwise neutral expression. Rick could almost feel the bond tickling with the urge to fight. But she wasn’t annoyed enough to be glaring.

“The tribe will be responsible for damages incurred.” He spoke calmly. “Especially if the assault happens while there is room for a peaceful resolution.”

Her motivation popped like a balloon, turning into frustration and anger, the glare deepening. “That Lord will sacrifice anyone he can to protect himself.”

“She has a point.” Kiara nodded. “Only a fool would open their doors to us just like that.”

Rick shrugged. “It’s the principle of the thing. And who knows, maybe he’ll think he can trick us into working as new simple peons.” He gestured at the ruined farmland. “Probably something about keeping the tribe outside to ward off ferals while they rebuild.”

He didn’t much like the thought of it, but there was an inconvenient truth that the ferals would need to be dealt with until their numbers finally receded. Victory over Sinco or merely annexing it, the city wouldn’t be able to survive the bump in population without regaining their farms. How many resources did they have available? How easily could he set up a lab? The ideas were churning, an attempt to distract himself from the immediate metaphorical blade that hung in the air.

It was easy to forget the potential to start a fight when looking forward to finally being able to stop traveling and start building something on his own.

“When he tries to kill you, I will take his head.”

Urtha snarled, picking up the club and leaning it against her shoulder as if it weighed nothing. As always, maidens considered the laws of physics little more than a suggestion, and Rick was curious whether he could unravel any of it under laboratory conditions.

One day, maybe.

“Has this guy messed with the tribe at some point?”

“Something like that.”

She didn’t elaborate, clenching the club and grinning up at the city in a predatory glint.

Rick glared. “He dies, the tribe is fucked.” He spoke slowly, calmly. “Walls or not, we can’t survive the entire kingdom getting that level of pissed at us. And they’ll be pissed plenty once they find out what’s been going on during the chaos.”

“And if he wanted to negotiate, he would not make us wait.” Urtha flashed her tusks, making a gesture at the gate.

“Something smells awry.” Kiara commented, glancing at the guards atop the wall.

“Can’t sense their emotions?”

“Not from this far, and not while trying to pretend to be a meek human.” She whispered through gritted teeth. “The best I can sense is the vague shape of a truth detection enchantment, and… something about the walls is damaged.”

“Broken?”

“An alarm enchantment, probably.”

“If intruder detection enchantments have failed, they are truly standing on their last leg.” Eva’s voice wavered as she spoke from under Rick, hidden in his shadow. “Only a matter of time before some predatorial feral makes their way through a gap in the guards and begins claiming lives.”

“I’m placing bets it was part of the Vampire’s handiwork.” Rick muttered. “Think you can fix it?”

“I… I’d need to guide a skilled maiden through the process.”

He frowned. “You can’t do it yourself?”

She became quiet.

“Ask a Mousegirl to clean, to cook, to weave, but not to fly.” Kiara shook her head, a gesture Urtha mimicked, both of them oozing some disappointment. “A Fledgling’s power is at its strongest when applied to fresh blood, not the stone and mortar of a wall.”

“Like how you can’t handle a couple of feral Angels?” Urtha’s question caused Kiara’s mouth to snap shut, the Succubus’ eyes glinting dangerously at the chuckling Orc.

Rick took a step back, putting himself between the two maidens and shooting each of them a quick look. It was enough to defuse the murderous tension in the air, Kiara turning away and glancing at the wall. “He’s back.”

That snapped them to attention.

Someone new had shown up.

“It’s not him.” Eva declared right away.

A man stumbled forward, followed by four heavily armored maidens. The man was tall, his clothes a vibrant combination of blue and yellow dyed clothes that made him look like he’d just escaped a YMCA studio. His face was flush, the man winded and sweaty, his thick mustache bobbing up and down with every heave. “I… I am the Lord’s constable, sir Dean Whitneye.” The man declared as the knights took defensive positions on either side of him.

It appeared the constable had run over from wherever he’d been hiding.

“We greet sir Rick and his… notable force.” The man spoke with a cordial smile, wiping away at his forehead with a handkerchief. “Are these all Wildlings?”

Well, the answer was a no-brainer. “I found them to be under the sway of a Vampire, and after freeing them, I now lead them.” His lips quirked slightly. “I am their leader. These are Monica and Urtha, Chieftess and Spear of the tribe, both bonded to me.”

The man glanced at some object he was holding, waiting for a heartbeat before his face relaxed in clear relief. “As is proper! These are good tidings!” He hesitated slightly. “Tell me, good sir, what would your purpose be upon visiting this lone corner of the kingdom?”

Again?

Kiara stepped forward. “It is my partner’s wish to settle down and take to a boring life surrounded by books and ink. He is a scholar, of purest blood.”

He frowned a little at her, twirling his mustache as he checked the device again. This time, his eyes roamed to Rick for a long second. “Purest blood? And what would your stance be on the… duties of a ruler?”

That was a curveball neither had expected. Kiara and Rick shared a glance. “May I ask why this philosophical question?” He wondered out loud.

Dean glanced at him, then back at the tribe, and then back down at him. The nervousness only grew, the twirling intensifying. “It is important, good sir, to know of matters of honor when there is an army at the gates.”

Kiara shrugged at him.

Rick shook his head. “A ruler’s biggest duty is to their people.”

He sighed loudly and nodded along, shoulders slumping. “Indeed, it is.” The man made a gesture, talking in hushed tones with the others and gesturing wildly.

“Think they’re going to attack?” He asked in a whisper.

“That would be fun,” Urtha grinned.

And with a series of shouts, the gates opened.

“We invite you and the maidens under your leadership, sir Rick,” the constable said with a slight bow. “We are in dire need of help.”

They didn’t move from the spot, tension coursing through his body like a current. “I suspect you mean something more than just the ferals.”

The man nodded. “We are having a bit of a complicated… circumstances, you see.”

“What sort of situation?” he asked hesitantly, not moving towards the open gate.

He squirmed. “The city has found itself in an unfortunate dispute with the Lord.”

“It’s treason, then.” Kiara smiled like she’d just been declared the queen of the ball.

Rick swore under his breath.

“There goes the kingdom not being pissed.”