Alchimia Rex

At exactly nine minutes out of the allotted ten, the Lightning-vault’s metal doors yawned open. And in their rusted screech of heavy black doors, the Orcs let out a combined sound of disappointment. Rick just sighed in relief when no explosions broke out and turned his focus towards trying to figure out what the angle of approach would be for the noble.

“I am Lord Thorley Darkton, second son of Margarett Darkton, seventh in line to the Darkton Family!” The voice boomed out, loud enough to echo within the plaza, likely amplified with some spell. “Who is this… Richard, so that I may speak to the invader!?”

Nothing unexpected so far, Rick just gave a nod at Urtha.

“Clear the way, ladies, we have a pair of males looking to slap one another!” The Orc proclaimed to a jeering crowd, the tribe moving away for Rick to step forward.

And there he was, Lord Thorley, right at the threshold of the gate and surrounded by eight silver knights. He was a man in his early 30s that looked like someone had plucked him out of a romance novel. The guy was tall, with black locks of hair swaying against his pale forehead, his beard thick, but trimmed to perfect lines that made his face look halfway between a lumberjack and a company CEO.

He wore a set of fine clothes that had been taken out of a 80s catalog and remade to fit a noble. A tailored suit jacket, a rich black, outlined in gold embroidery around the neck and sleeves, along a matching set of suit pants that ended in heavy books made of shiny leather. On the man’s shoulders hung a blue cape also embroidered in gold, with a circlet of gold crowning his head.

The one item of the ensemble that looked out of place was the leather pouch hanging from his hip where a sword should have been.

Lord Thorley Darkton took ten steps out of the safety of the white fortress, moving with dignity and confidence. Yet to Rick’s eyes, there was something about it that felt rigid, tense, like someone who followed an ingrained training rather than out of any innate grace.

“That’s him,” Eva confirmed from Rick’s shadow.

The Lord’s sparkling blue eyes fell on Monica. His gaze twinkled with greed, lips curling upwards in a fashion that made Monica flare her fangs and snarl, hackles raising, her reaction causing every knight to draw steel, and every Orc to move away. A reaction that only got a sneer out of the nobleman.

Rick scowled at the man, stepping in front of Monica.

It was only then, as if in afterthought, that the Lord noticed him. The reaction was no different to finding yourself too close to an enormous spider, almost recoiling, lip curling up with disgust. With the grime-covered studded leather armor, muddy boots, short sword, scraggly hair, and bags under his eyes, Rick wasn’t really surprised.

He would’ve avoided himself too.

“You must be he.”

“I guess I am.” Rick put his hands on his hips, keeping his face unamused. “Ready to talk business?”

A firm nod. “Inside.” He turned to leave.

“The fortress has alarms, they’d detect me,” Eva whispered harshly.

“No.” Rick spoke up before the Lord could get too far back. “We will do so here, in… well, let’s call it neutral territory.” He kept his grin lopsided. “Either that, or I can bring my friends inside. You will find them to be a very relevant part of the negotiation.”

The nobleman looked at the Orcs that surrounded the entrance, his face stony, even though his complexion became ever so slightly paler. The green maidens chuckled, tusks displayed as each one of them loomed over the knights, slowly stepping away to give the nobleman space.

Thorley paused in his steps. “There is no need to go that far, the Darkton’s are no cowards.” He turned to one of his guards, nodding. The maiden immediately rushed into the structure, and the nobleman turned to Rick. “That feline, from which of the striped clans is she?”

“Monica from east. Mountains.” The feline crossed her fuzzy arms, lifting her chin. “Alone.”

The Lord frowned, apparently not having expected the maiden to answer. “A feralborn?” It wasn’t really a question, more akin to a note. “How did you catch her? It must have been a rather impressive fight.”

Said feline snorted. “Monica catch Rick.”

The frown deepened. “Will I also have to engage in negotiations with her?”

“I’m sure her terms would be more reasonable.” Rick chuckled. “Since you can mostly bribe her with fish.”

A screeching sound drew everyone’s attention to the fortress’ entrance.

From within the bowels of the building emerged the knight that had run inside. She was dragging along a large blue metal chair that was too heavy even for the maiden. Yet she endured, dragging it forward until, with heaves and groans, she put it down next to the Lord.

The whole thing was a very heavy dark frame and padded crimson velvet arm-rests. The top of the chair was decorated with a circular blue crest outlined in silver, with an ebony “D” at its center, crossed by a spear and what looked like a green glowing stick.

Thorley sat upon the metal monstrosity, calmly and comfortably leaning back, crossing his legs and smirking. The knights arrayed behind him. “You may speak business.”

Rick burst out with laughter, ignoring the concerned looks shot his way from all across the plaza. The citizens were nervous, particularly Whitneye. But Rick just waved it off, raising his voice. “Someone bring me a stool!”

With the stirring of the tribe, he approached the noble, flanked by Urtha and Monica, with Dia closing the rear. The knights tensed, but a gesture from the Lord had them sheathe their weapons once more.

A sharp whistling sound drew their attention, all heads turning to the rocketing piece of wood that Urtha caught with one hand. “Your seat, Father.” She humorously grumbled, putting down the stool in front of Rick.

It was little more than a disk with three legs. Wood, thick and sturdy, muddied and worn.

“That was faster than I expected. Thank you.” He sat down, elbows against his thighs as he leaned forward, the new chair just tall enough to leave Rick and the noble eye-to-eye. “So, what are the terms of your surrender?”

The man bristled. “It is you who should surrender, while you can.”

Rick’s only response was a quirk of the brow.

The nobleman continued. “You cannot hope to win against the might of the Darkton’s. We control the south of the kingdom, our enchantments punctuate every gate and every castle in the realm. You and your…” He glanced at the Orcs, nose wrinkling. “...tribe, are nothing.”

“That is true. Your family is powerful.” Rick nodded, scratching his cheek. “But you aren’t, and they are not here. Would you rather deny that reality until this devolves into a fight?”

The knights tensed, stepping forward. The Orcs growled, enthusiastic grins all over as they closed in as well. The noble barely stirred, focused on Rick with a heavy frown. “You are no noble, you are unworthy of your position.” The man declared coldly. His gaze moved up to Monica and Urtha then back down at him. “A fact they are blind to.”

“Just a matter of perspective.” Rick shrugged. “It’s not like it matters to you.”

“It does, because if you were a true conqueror, we wouldn’t be talking right now. Battle is not a threat to one who speaks with their sword, it is merely another form of communication.” The statement caught Rick off guard, he tried to hide his expression, but Thorley caught it. “You stand above your station. You do not have what it takes to survive a single misstep. And you know this.”

He didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. “That’s very charming, but are we going to spend all day guessing at each other’s qualities?” He slapped his knees, pushing himself to grin. “You? You’re not really important. They sent you to this little place in the middle of nowhere to either get rid of you. Maybe you have aspirations of one day being important, but the fact of the matter is that if you had what it took, you’d be anywhere else.”

Thorley’s knuckles turned white, gripping the chair’s armrest tightly, blue eyes glinting dangerously.

“But not being important doesn’t mean being worthless. I will make sure the box we put you in is nice and comfortable.” Rick relaxed his shoulders, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “When the right time comes, I send you off back to your family for something actually useful, like fertilizer.” He grinned. “So, Lord of Sinco, the question is whether you’re willing to exchange anything for an improvement in your box. Maybe you want a desk? Some parchment and ink? Some books to read? Beer twice a week?”

Thorley shot to his feet. “I will not be insulted in this way!” He moved to leave.

Rick reached into himself and pushed out every bit of anger he could manage, pulling from that place deep inside himself. That same place from where he could feel those he was bonded to. “Sit.”

At once, the knights twitched, the blades out and pointed at Rick. The gesture caught the Lord by surprise, the man hesitating as he looked at his maidens and then at Rick, concern clear across his face.

“Take another step and the fight will start.” Rick growled, a sound Monica and Urtha mimicked. “I won’t repeat myself, Lord of Sinco.”

Thorley stalled, looking at the knights as they wavered between aiming their weapons at Rick, or at the Orcs that had stepped closer, now within relative reach of one another. His hand caressed the pouch for a moment, then he nodded. The man took back to the chair, leaning forward. “What do you want?”

What indeed? Rick relaxed.

“I want things to… smooth out. The people of Sinco need their supplies returned, and I am going to need whatever people are knowledgeable in the running of the city. Whoever assisted your day to day. Scribes, secretaries, all of them.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “In exchange, neither you nor whatever maidens are loyal to you will be killed. Locked up, sure, but alive.”

The thing that went unsaid was that prisoners would be regularly interrogated under a truth spell. Any found to be planning to escape would be executed on the spot. Rick wasn’t about to chance his prime prisoner getting away simply because he let some maidens live.

Thorley’s expression had darkened considerably, brow deeply furrowed as his finger thumbed at the belt, near the pouch. “What are your plans for Sinco? It’s people?”

“It’s a bit late for you to care about ‘the people’.” Rick replied. “I don’t plan to shit where I eat. The tribe will help fight the ferals, and things will just… go on.” His lips parted into a smirk. “Better keep things boring. It will be a pleasant change of pace.”

The man’s blue eyes widened. “If your wish is peace, it’s not impossible.” He leaned forward, gripping his knees. “You can. If your ambition is a boring comfortable life, I can provide it for you! Whatever you want, just swear a simple oath of fealty!” His words were shaking, eyes slightly wild. “I swear you will be safe.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Rick paused, looking over his shoulder at the Orcs, at Monica, Dia, and Urtha. It was easy to imagine it, a house, a lab, a comfortable life. “And the tribe? I promised them protection.” He asked, looking back at the man.

Inwardly he wondered why he asked that, he couldn’t trust the Lord. Just one look at the city was all he needed. But was imprisoning the guy and ransoming him off really the best option? Was there really a way for him to convince the kingdom to leave them alone if he deposed this prick?

Wasn’t he looking for peace?

"And the tribe?"

“I will make them citizens, of course.” The man nodded eagerly, smiling from ear to ear, eyes twinkling. “I’ll even promote ten of them into knights!”

It sounded too good to be true. “I can… see it. It honestly sounds nice.” Rick sighed, closing his eyes. The image was clear, a house at the edge of the city, the smell of freshly baked bread and just a hint of that isoamyl acetate that would cling to his clothes after a long day of work.

Was the hope for such a place larger than the reality? Had he been asked of this choice a few months ago, he wouldn’t really have considered it twice.

“And… you just ask for a simple thing in exchange, right?”

Thorley’s voice tempered. “Of course, you would still need to follow the law, and-”

“It being that Monica would need to become your property.” Rick opened his eyes and met the nobleman’s own. The gaze hard and cold. The silence all the confirmation the former chemistry needed. “Can’t have someone as powerful as her just running around, right?”

“You… are invading the city.” Thorley hesitated. “Guarantees would be necessary. A sign of good faith! Of course I would properly compensate you!”

“Monica? What would you think?”

The feline leaned over Rick’s shoulder, sky-blue eyes fixing the man in place, a sanguine snarl rumbling through her whole body and chilling the air. “No.”

The man’s brows rose, sudden realization as he looked at Monica again, dawning horror spreading across his face. “You are White Claw…” All color drained from his face. “You killed the Baron of Astunes…”

“Baron bad.” Monica unsheathed her claws.

“He thought he could take her by force.” Rick stood up, dusting off his lap. “And he suffered the consequences.”

The azure eyes had kept widening. His hand reached for the pouch.

It all happened in an instant.

Lord Thorley lunged to the side, using his free hand to throw an ivory and gold glowing sphere he’d pulled out of the pouch. Eva shot from Rick’s shadow, reaching out to the ball and slapping it away with hands that glowed bloody red, the other one shoving him into Monica’s arms.

“COVER!”

They reduced the world into thick warmth, Rick couldn’t see, Urtha and Monica had put themselves tightly around him as a protective barrier. He felt nothing happen, merely a tingle that ran all around his body that could only mean a wave of elemental energy in some form. His concern redoubled when the two maidens tensed and slumped.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

He was toppled over as both Monica and Urtha were blown off of him, both maidens being attacked by two knights each. Neither were reacting fast, sluggishly trying to parry away at the blows with claw and club. The knights were pushing their advantage as hard as they could, trying to land a killing blow before the effects wore off.

All around him, everything had drastically shifted, the Orcs had toppled over, clutching their heads and violently shuddering. The remaining knights had lunged into the tribe, blades and spears drawn. The green maidens were recovering, but not fast enough to use their numerical advantage.

If nothing was done, it would be a massacre.

None had even bothered to look his way. Rick saw the Lord loom over Eva, his eyes wide in horror. The man whispered something under his breath, reaching into his belt, pulling out a dagger.

There wasn’t much else he could do, Rick lunged forward, hand reaching down to pull out his blade. There was no grace to his movement, only a single-minded desperation, leaping at the man and slashing at the hand that held the dagger. Thorley screamed, though it didn’t stop Rick as he toppled them both over, pinning the noble in place, sword against his throat.

Lord Thorley’s eyes were wild. “How… what are you?” He groaned the word.

He ignored the man, turning to the knights. Killing the noble now would only make it likelier they’d ignore him, or go after him.

“DO NOT MOVE!”

Rick roared, pushing everything he had out in a singular commanding bark, nudging the blade against the nobleman’s throat. The man was struggling, but not enough to risk his own throat from being split open.

The instant the knights heard the roar, and confirmed the Lord’s status, they turned on a dime, headed straight for him.

And Rick’s only response was to pull the blade slightly, just enough to cause the man to scream, drawing blood, but not more than a flesh-wound.

“FREEZE!”

This time they complied, stopping cold.

“Better.” His eyes were fixed on the tribe, shaking off whatever that had been, they were quickly getting back on to their feet. “Now, calmly, put down your weapons. If you don’t comply-”

“This one is a Fledgling!” One knight declared, looking at Eva. “They are allied with the Vampires!”

“Take a single step, make a single move, and your Lord dies.” Rick snarled, tightening the blade against the man’s throat, drawing more blood.

It was his one bet, that the bond kept them frozen in place, the threat to the man’s life too big to take a risk on. He needed to buy time; he needed the tribe to regain their footing and shake off whatever had been done to them.

“If this is my final moment, then so be it.” The Lord sucked in a deep breath. “Kill this man whatever the cost! Be free and fight!”

As one, the knights reached up to their throats, reaching under the armor, and pulling out their collars. It took a moment for Rick’s mind to parse through the act, through the fact that other humans needed collars to bond the maidens. And removing the collar broke those bonds, it broke the imperative drive to protect their human’s life above all else.

With a roar, the knights charged at him.

And all hell broke loose.