Sins of the Forefathers: A LitRPG Fantasy Isekai

Appearing at the doorway of the tent was a very…large man, to be generous. And all the weight on his frame didn’t appear to be muscle, either. From the massive sneer on his piggish features, I’d hazard a guess that he was a pretty unpleasant person altogether. Dressed in extravagant blacks and reds, the man was wearing a furry crimson robe over his breeches and tunic. On his bald head was a circlet with a single large ruby set into it.

Surely this wasn’t Prince Oskar. If he was, I weep for the future of this country.

Following behind him were what I could only call flunkies, clearly attached to the big guy from the way they dogged his heels. I could tell right away that they were unimportant, from the puffed-up looks on their faces. I disregarded them though as soon as the next person entered the tent.

Now this was obviously the Prince. And not just because everyone on our side of the table stood up at his entrance, which was a bit of a surprise.

Who could only be Prince Oskar was a young-looking man to my eyes. He couldn’t have been much older than Walter was, pegging him at around perhaps sixteen. He had long, light blonde hair bound into a low ponytail with a tasteful circlet resting on his brow, inlaid with seven small emeralds. Dressed in greens and reds, which I understood were the colors of not only the Kingdom but of also his house, he didn’t seem quite as…try-hard as the other guy. I noticed that he had a fairly powerful feeling longsword belted at his waist, as well.

Following after him was what looked to be some kind of scribe, as well as a fairly intimidating-looking knight clad head to toe in plate mail. He was sticking pretty close to the Prince, making me think he might be his bodyguard.

The Prince took the time to observe us in silence for a moment, while most of the tent waited with baited breath. After a moment, he nodded slightly and sat in the center chair, directly across from Grey. That seemed to be the cue for everyone else to sit. The fat noble sat directly to the Prince’s right, while one of his flunkies sat next to him. The scribe sat next to the Prince, while flunky number two visibly flailed about for a second, being unable to sit on the side of the table with his obvious benefactor. Under the unimpressed eyes of the rest of the tent, he sheepishly took the last chair next to the scribe.

The knight simply took a mirroring position to my own, standing behind the Prince. Somehow, our eyes locked across the table. I saw his narrow at me.

Yeah, whatever guy. I’d dealt with big armored dudes like you before. And that was before I got a new skill that could deal with plate better.

Our side of the table sat down shortly after the Prince’s party did. The silence returned for a moment as everyone was visibly sizing each other up. Grey broke it first.

“Greetings, Prince Oskar,” He said, inclining his head slightly to the Prince. “It’s been some time since we last met. I trust you’ve been well?”

The Prince finally spoke, locking eyes with Grey. “Well enough, Headmaster. Or should I call you Grand Marshal, considering the circumstances?”

Grey smiled slightly. “Either, Your Highness. I consider both equal in my eyes.”

The fat noble snorted out loud at his words. Grey didn’t even blink, much less look at the man. He just continued speaking to the Prince.

“I must say, we were quite surprised to discover you were currently in residence at the Citadel of Helstein, Your Highness. The King must have quite the confidence in you, to be stationed so close to the front.” Grey said, folding his hands over each other on the table.

I didn’t blink, even though I had to parse the hidden meaning in his words.

Ah…

I see.

Grey was trying to fish for confirmation if the King was actually dead. Until now, we had only assumed he was. Depending on what they said, that could tell us a bit about the internal politics of the Loyalists.

Prince Oskar’s face hardened slightly. “I’m afraid that my father the King has…stepped down from his position, Headmaster. He has named my brother, Prince Alaric, as regent due to his failing health. Only until the current crisis is settled, of course. At that point, my brother will inherit the crown.”

I couldn’t be the only one that heard the bitterness in his voice, right?

Judging by the awkward shuffling from some members across the table, I wasn’t.

Interesting, interesting.

“My condolences, Your Highness,” Grey inclined his head. “Your Father ruled…better than some had, in your line. I truly hope that the next will rule with a fair, even, and egalitarian hand.”

The fat noble scoffed, speaking for the first time. “Enough with the pleasantries. Let’s get this farce over with. We all know how this is going to end.”

The noble wasn’t able to see the Prince’s face twist slightly in disgust, but our side of the table sure did. Meanwhile, I saw it as Grey’s entire demeanor changed.

“Duke…Graden,” He said, as frostily as I had ever heard from him. It was barely detectable, but the tent darkened ever so slightly. “I cannot tell you how eager I am to see you. You see, I have quite an important question to ask you.” Grey leaned forward in his chair, his black and silver eyes visibly glowing with restrained fury. “Were you involved in the plot to abduct me? Did you sell your soul to the Serpent of Savoy?”

I saw a bead of sweat break out on the forehead of this ‘Duke Graden’. I remember that name. He had been named as one of the main benefactors behind the Loyalists, way back in Hollow Hill.

Graden sneered at Grey. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, you fossil. I haven’t had any dealings with House Savoy in years.”

Grey kept his intense, narrowed gaze on Graden for nearly a minute, causing the noble to visibly sweat. When that minute was up, he glanced over at Honoka briefly. The woman shook her head briefly at her old friend. Grey let out a long sigh, sitting back in his chair and visibly relaxing. “I see. I should have expected you didn’t have the guile for such a plot. Now then,” He said, visibly dismissing the noble. “I’m assuming you have been granted command of the Herztalian forces arrayed here at Helstein, Your Highness?”

As Graden sputtered at Grey brushing him off, Prince Oskar inclined his head. “Only my own forces, Headmaster. I have not been granted command of Helstein’s,” He said, glancing over at Graden for a moment. Oskar focused back on Grey. “But my main goal for calling this meeting wasn’t to discuss battle. Rather, it was to speak to you. To all of you.” He said, letting his gaze fall on the assembled leadership of the Uprising. Everyone but Grey and Honoka straightened up under his gaze. They just met his with either an inquisitive or bored gaze. “I do not believe that a formal dialogue has ever been attempted with the leadership of this rebellion. The only thing that has been received are declarations of intent. To that end, I ask you. What are the official goals of your…Uprising?”

I could see Grey’s eyebrows visibly rise at the question, while each side of the table reacted in either shock.

Or hope.

“Obviously they want to depose the government, Your Highness!” Graden burst out blusteringly. “They wish to tear down the very throne in their rebellion!”

“Be silent, Lord Graden,” Prince Oskar said evenly, not looking away from Grey. “I was not speaking to you.”

The fat Duke of Helstein reacted like he’d been slapped, but nevertheless still quieted down.

“Well,” Grey said slowly. “I do not believe it is my place to answer that question, Your Highness. I am not officially the leader of the Uprising. Overall military command falls to my second in the Order of the Eclipsed Dawn,” He nodded at Leopold, causing the massive leonine man to bow his head briefly. Grey then shifted his gaze to Woodrick. “While young Woodrick here is the elected leader of Sculpted, and the overall leader of the Uprising. It would be best to let them answer that question.”

Prince Oskar shifted his gaze to Woodrick and Leopold. The two of them exchanged a glance, before Leopold inclined his head. Woodrick nodded and looked back at the Prince. “Well met, Prince Oskar. As the Grand Marshall said, I am Woodrick, and I speak for the Uprising and Sculpted both. Our demands, when boiled down, are simple. We wish for freedom.”

Prince Oskar folded his hands together and tilted his head inquisitively. “I have gathered that much, at the very least. However, what does that mean in practice? Where do the Sculpted see themselves in Herztalian society?”

“As equals, of course,” Woodrick said with a charismatic smile. As he spoke, I could see the wooden man begin to get more animated in his movements. “To that end, it has always been our intention to force the House of Lords to the table and recognize all Sculpted people as Herztalian citizens.”

“And was violence truly necessary to achieve these goals, Commander Woodrick?” The Prince asked with a raised brow. “This rebellion has torn the Kingdom apart.”

“If you recall, Your Highness,” Woodrick said pointedly. “Our first recourse was not to rebel against the crown. The Sculpted people protested and petitioned for months and months, following the Second Initialization. We were rebuffed time and again by both the House and the King. Our plight was recognized as righteous by many in the Kingdom, and thus we received a great deal of support.” He nodded at Leopold.

“If peaceful resolution is impossible,” Nyx piped in that point. This was the first time I had ever heard the woman speak, and I was surprised at how smooth and intelligent she sounded. I had gotten the impression that she was more of a battlefield commander. Clearly, I was wrong. “Then violent revolution becomes duty. Your Highness, the demanded servitude of the Sculpted had become a de-facto institution of slavery. Not only is that immoral, but it is, in fact, illegal. The 2187 Proclamation of Oceane outlawed the practice within the Kingdom of Herztal. Under the law, all those who have been found to enslave another within its borders are to be sentenced to imprisonment for no less than five years, and an accompanying fine of five hundred golden crowns.”

One of Graden’s toadies cleared his throat. “In point of fact,” He said in a nasal voice, drawing the tent’s attention. “That law has very specific wording about those who cannot be enslaved. It specifically mentions the sapient races that interacted with the Kingdom to any degree at the time. Those being humans, dwarves, gnolls, elves, antium, orcs, and goblins. The ‘Sculpted’ are not mentioned in the Proclamation, and are not recognized under the law as protected from slavery.”

“That,” Grey said purposely. “Is a technicality. As one of two people in this tent who was there when that law was written, I can tell you that it has been amended in the past. Initially, the Proclamation did not mention elves as being protected from slavery, given their general antipathy to everyone. It was only after several decades of very violent elves being forcibly enslaved that the law was updated to include them in that protection. Granted, it was only after many had escaped and went on violent rampages, but the point stands. Besides,” He spread his hands wide. “Are the Sculpted not the collective children of Humanity? By creating them, we have a responsibility to their being. In that sense, could they not be considered merely an extension of humanity? As a mother births a child, so too could Man be considered to have birthed the Sculpted.”

“Weak sophistry,” Graden snorted derisively. “I don’t consider any of these…pieces of farm equipment to be my children.”

“Enough!” Prince Oskar burst out, sounding frustrated for the first time. He started drumming his fingers on the table, frowning. “Enough. I have heard your arguments, and I cannot deny there is some merit to them.”

“But Your Highness!” Graden exclaimed, sounding shocked.

Prince Oskar rounded on him, looking furious. “Not another word, Lord Graden! I have seen how you treat those Sculpted that are still residing in your city, and I have already protested it during my time here! It does not matter what the Sculpted were anymore! Yes, they may have started their existence as ‘farm equipment’, as you so eloquently put it. But they are not any longer! I cannot have a conversation with a garden hoe. I cannot share a meal with the rake or the plow. No,” He said, standing up from his chair. His scribe, who had been dutifully documenting every word said since the meeting started, scrambled to his feet as well. I noticed that he didn’t stop writing on his clipboard, though. The knight that had been quiet up to this point straightened up. “I’m afraid that this is the time that I declare my intentions.”

Under the shocked eyes of everyone in the tent, Prince Oskar and his retinue walked around the table to stand on our side of it. When he stopped, he stood on my left directly behind Grey. The knight and scribe settled behind us.

Prince Oskar lay a hand on Grey’s shoulder, to the disbelief of Duke Graden. “As of this moment, I, Prince Oskar of Herztal, offer my full support to the Uprising.”

Hoo boy.

That’s going to piss some people off.