Alchimia Rex

Though the name “Feral Rush” brought the idea of a stampede, more often than not such events caused a sharp increase in feral presence. At its core, this threat typically presents itself in a form closer to being under siege. Day in and day out, increasingly desperate ferals would attempt to scavenge for whatever food they might find, attacking anyone that they encounter if driven into desperation.

A desperation that had pushed Sinco into rebellion, apparently.

Rick understood the broad stroke concepts involved, but there was one aspect he couldn’t comprehend. He could only stare at the state the city was in, the crumbling street, the smell of filth and rot, how some houses were outright little more than cinders… those that stood contained mold, black and eating away at the chipped paint and wood, not a hint of green anywhere to be seen, even in the cleared out available spaces.

“Where are the farmers? Where are the maidens that can grow the crops? The ones that tend the soil?”

The constable, Whitneye, kept his smile polite, eyes darting between Kiara and Urtha. “The Lord’s resources were stretched thin. They were the hardest hit at the start of these… unfortunate events. What few remained tried to use the soil within the walls, but it did not take long for it to foul.” He flashed yellowed teeth in a crooked smile. “Our attempts to grow more outside will typically result in ferals having eaten it up before it had the chance to grow.”

Rick leveled a glare at him, causing the four armored guards to tense. They were the only well-equipped members of the guard-squad that had met them at the gates. Everyone else sported rags, worn down equipment, and the pale gaunt faces of starvation.

“I can see why you attacked the Lord’s place if he’s stockpiling food.”

Whitneye almost jumped at that. “We do not wish harm upon the Lord!” He declared, waving his hands wildly as the surrounding maidens were suddenly very wary of Rick’s company. “Fishing and some algae have allowed us to subsist, but it is running out.”

He’d seen enough.

“Tell me about the Lord. What’s the situation?”

The shift in tone only caused the maidens to tense. Weapons weren’t drawn, but all too quickly, everyone’s focus was on the other side’s fighters. Rick ignored that, keeping his focus on the thick-mustachioed man, tried to gauge him. It looked like the guy was just about as happy to be there as they were.

“He has locked himself in the Lightning-vault with the knights. We have been attempting to negotiate the release of the food for the city before things turn sour and an attempt to break through is made.”

Rick had to give points for being succinct. Some part of him wondered whether this was because there was no actual option left for them. “What’s the Lightning-vault?”

“It is where the electricity is generated.” Whitneye quickly gestured at his guards to calm down. “We do not wish to harm our Lord, merely to help the city.”

“What are his forces?”

“The Lord’s knights are-”

“We are going to be potentially seen as invaders, sir Whitneye,” Kiara spoke smoothly, smiling as she gave a slight bob of her head. “You understand our precaution. We wish for no blood-shed if it can be avoided. But we would rather not walk into what might be an ambush.”

Whitneye glanced at the silver disk he’d been holding with a white-knuckled grip, relaxing with a slight nod. “I understand.” The voice trembled as he spoke. “The Lord has twenty knights currently, as well as accompanying guards.”

With a simple nod, Rick turned to Urtha. “Call the tribe. Coordinate with Dia and Yasir, I want at least one plantation set up and protected.” He paused for a moment, looking at Whitneye. “The merchant Yasir and his wife were rescued and are part of the tribe. Do you know of his two children?”

The name sent a wave of relief over the crowd. Nods were shared. “Yasir is a good friend,” Whitneye declared with a more enthusiastic nod. “His children are well, but they’ve been troublesome, as young ones are.”

“Talk with Yasir. The tribe can help set-up some farmland to grow whatever can be grown in short order.”

“I am not letting you go to that Lord unprotected.” Urtha stated.

“The Lord is going nowhere,” he said. “Set up a defensive perimeter around the gate and have the Elves grow something next to the walls. Once that’s established, we’ll bring the best fighters over to have a presentable face when we greet Thorley.” Turning back to the man with the mustache, he frowned. “I take it there is no problem with this?”

“You do not mean harm to the city or its inhabitants?” He repeated the question, wrinkled fingers tightening around the medallion.

“I do not want blood to be spilled.” Rick stepped forward, gesturing the others not to follow, outstretching his hand to Whitneye. “And I will protect what is mine, as is proper, that much I promise.”

The man looked at his hand, then at the open gates, at the Orcs that were already entered, uncontested. Then at his rag-tag of haggard maidens, at the four armored knights, and then at Urtha and Monica. His eyes fell down to the disk, and with a sigh, he took Rick’s hand.

“We are in your care.”

And just like that, the man had surrendered the fate of the city. Not that there had been much of an option, just one look around and it was clear the Lord had hoarded not just the food but the fighters. Taking over would have been a question of ‘when’, not ‘if’.

“Could you gather whoever can help? Though I hope the Lord will freely release what he’s stored, I’d rather have our own alternative in place.”

“It…” He paused for a second, looking from his maidens down to the silver disk, fingers caressing its surface. “I would need to speak with Yasir, if possible?”

“Sure.” Rick looked over at the gates and the stream of Orcs that were passing through. “I will tend to my forces and reconvene in an hour.”

The man took the words as the dismissal that they were, giving a bow and turning to leave, the maidens following close behind. Not that it gave peace of mind to the maidens. Curious and horrified eyes were emerging from every corner, and the tribe was looked upon with wary silence.

A city holding its breath, waiting to see whether they should scream for help, run, or fight.

“And you said you were no king.” Kiara chuckled, caressing his shoulder. “I will investigate the city while you prepare. Mind sharing two burly Orcs and some supplies?”

“Sure.”

Something about the smile she held didn’t sit well with Rick, but he could guess at what she was going to do. If there were any traps waiting for them, she was the perfect bait. A ‘harmless’ human woman with food and just two Orcs? That was just begging for someone to attack.

“Get some of your fighters on the wall.” He warned Urtha, turning to glance at the gate. “No looting, no killing. Anything happens, pin down unless there’s no alternative.”

She did not answer, eyes hard as she gazed at the city. The bond wasn’t powerful enough for Rick to sense what was going on, but he could sense she was overall displeased.

“Is there a problem?”

“Gifts are not earned.”

Rick chuckled, patting her arm. “We have nothing yet, just the gate.”

He helped the Orc in coordinating the parts of the tribe while Monica hovered over his shoulder like a muscular guardian angel.

While the Orcs set up defensive arrangements with reinforced wooden spikes and small walls, the rest of the tribe quickly secured the area closest to the gate that might be usable for farming. They cleared out the rubble within a matter of minutes, and while some started plowing it, others were using their powers to purify the earth in preparation.

Hopefully, it would have something harvestable within the next day or so. The goal was to start something fast. The ground might run out of nutrients if pushed hard, but they’d worry about that after the situation had stabilized.

For now, the primary concern was whether the situation was really as Whitneye had described it. They set up shop expecting a potential attack from the forest, thus being able to retreat into the city and close the gate. While if the attack came from the city, they’d use the walls and their improvised fortifications.

“I want to confirm the condition of the citizens.” Dia approached Rick as he’d been checking up on the reports from the flyers. They’d not spotted any forces, not yet at least.

“It will have to wait until we have control of the city.” He replied, sending the Neigix off to keep watch over the city.

“There are likely people in critical condition.”

He leveled a hard stare. “I need you at your best.”

She preened a little, nodding and putting her hand against her shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

Had she been fishing for his response? He pushed the thought aside, turning back to the city. He’d seen Yasir and his wife rushing past the gates not that long ago. Though he didn’t see them when he stepped through and inside.

There was only the man with the mustache and a lone guard. Whitneye’s spirits had improved monumentally during the absence, now sporting what someone might actually consider a grimly neutral expression. One that only hardened when looking at the Orcs as they kept adding to the defenses within the city.

The older man didn’t speak, only quietly staring as one would a fire.

“How did you conquer them? You did not have any force to fight them.”

“You don’t think it was my manly charm?” Rick chuckled. “I offered them the chance to look for a home where they won’t be persecuted.” With a slight shrug, he turned to the city. “You keep twirling that medallion. What is it?”

“It was a gift from the Viscount, the Lord’s uncle.” The man’s voice softened, a touch of melancholy hovering at the edge of his lips.

And one apparently enchanted to tell if someone was lying. “He sounds like a good man.”

“He was.”

There was another silence. Rick didn’t bother to break it. Eyes kept on the city and trying to put together the answer for “what now” that kept looping through his head. Fortunately, the thoughts came to a halt when he spotted the one he’d been waiting for.

“Hello dearest.” Kiara was all smiles, there was a lack of food. The blue-haired maiden clung to his arm. “Unless you have anything else that needs to be done, we can set forth to the Lightning-vault.”

Rick ignored the silent glare Dia was shooting at the Succubus. “Heard anything worth sharing?”

“Oh, just this and that.” She squeezed his arm twice as she said this, leading them towards the city.

She’d found something else, but couldn’t share it with Whitneye nearby to hear. Rick nodded, turning to look at Urtha. “Gather some warriors. It’s time to meet the Lord.”

“How many?”

“At least fifty Orcs and all the Hobgoblins,” Kiara said. “Preferably everything that can be spared. I will remain here to help.” She winked, giving them the look of someone who had several plans she didn’t want to share.

Dia leaned closer to speak. “We should bring as much food as we can spare, sir.”

“Agreed.”

Urtha’s tusks glinted as she straightened up, immediately barking orders to the tribe. Rick did his best to ignore Whitneye’s nervousness, and once all was prepared, they began their march deeper into the city. Sunken eyes stared at them from within darkened homes, tucked away and peeking at them. They were nervous and cautious, not that it wasn’t expected, but there was a slightly lessened undertone of hostility now that Whitneye was walking with the group.

The breeze carried with it the scent of the sea, washing away the heaviness in the air, yet left other smells in their wake. Monica kept sniffing this way and that, seeming more preoccupied with finding whatever had caught her attention than any actual threat.

“Spread the word!” Dia proclaimed, voice booming. “We bring food and medicine! To be shared in front of the Lightning-vault!”

None moved to leave, not that Rick expected them to. As much as this was going to be a publicity stunt, it was also nothing that could be rushed. The city had clearly gone through some rough things, and they were little more than an invader.

But it didn’t matter.

The propaganda was only a concern if they won.

The Lightning-vault was a fortress tucked away and hidden at the very center of the city. It was a fang of white stone, jutting out of the ground as if having risen from deep underground. The structure was almost twice the height as it was wide, with its peak being capped by a crown of steel and gold. Upon this crown sat five figures, each armored and sporting the same blues as the guards’ uniforms.

The fortification was surrounded by a flat space currently littered with wood and stone, making up small fortifications behind which the citizens hit. There was a nervous ferocity about the people, clenching spears and shields and just standing there, waiting.

As soon as Rick stepped into the plaza, one knight above the fortress leapt off, plunging to the ground at meteoric speed. The maiden opened pearly wings only at the last second, turning her fall into a soft landing right in front of Monica.

“You betray your oath, Whitneye?”

“I am Richard Cross, Father of the tribe.” He spoke before the man could jump at the accusation. “I am here to talk to the Lord.”

She hesitated, watching as Whitneye nodded. “For what purpose?”

“Negotiations,” he said, not missing a beat. “The tribe seeks shelter, and we offer protection and food.”

The maiden thumbed the metal glaive she held. “You are not showing proper manners, are you a wildling?”

“If you don’t wish to deliver the message, then we will.” Rick didn’t miss a beat, stepping towards the fortification, ignoring the cold sweat running down his spine.

The tribe did not wait, following his steps, a reassuring gesture, but one that didn’t make the winged maiden any less dangerous. Said knight moved, spreading her wings wide and blocking his way. “Wait!”

“Move, or be moved.”

Urtha took his left, Monica his right.

“I will inform the Lord.” The maiden didn’t miss a beat, turned towards the fortification and flew off, beating her wings as if chased by hellish flames.

“You have ten minutes!” He shouted, watched her go and sighed, finally able to relax even if only marginally. “Start distributing the food,“ he ordered, gesturing at the maidens that had set up and spread around the plaza. “They go first, and if anyone else shows up, then let them eat too.”

“Ten minutes, huh?” Urtha had a sly smile on her face, tapping the cobblestone with her metal club, making it crack. “And if they delay, we knock?”

Whitneye and his knight glanced at Rick.

He shrugged. “It’ll be just a little knock.”