Janus and The Prince: A LitRPG Saga (The Nightmares of Alamir Book 2)

by Noam Oswin

  Quest Difficulty: [Tier 7+]

  Quest Rewards: [750,000,000 EXP] [Greatly Increased Influence Rating] [5000 Influence Points] [Title: Lord of the Hlahan] [Domains: Krvavi Lagoon, Masakh Mountain, Fort Sobaka, The Two Pillars, Du Sang Castle]

  Bonus Rewards: [Unknown]

  Quest Failure: [Inevitable Death]

  Would you like to accept this Quest?

  [Yes]

  [No]

  Hitting the [Yes] button brought forward a strange prompt.

  Questline Accepted.

  Achievement Gained!

  Congratulations, Demiurge Janus! The Nightscripts welcomes you on your quest for the throne of darkness.

  Achievement Unlocked: He Who Desires Peace.

  A gut feeling, instinct, told me that I’d signed up for something much, much larger than I intended. The Nightscripts were congratulating me, which was something that left me feeling perturbed.

  Scrolling through the list of things I needed to do made me realize that my work was incredibly cut out in front of me. Improving the Fort… upgrading its defenses… strengthening the lieutenants and…

  “Fort Zyvar has a food shortage?”

  Erzili tilted her head. “How did – of course. The Nightscripts must have told you.”

  “How does the Fort have a food shortage?”

  “Janus, darling, what do you think is the choice of meal for nightmares?”

  My lips thinned. “Humans.”

  “Alamirians.” She corrected. “Alamirians include humans, dwarves, druids, elvani, leporinian – the full course. Some of my darlings are pickier eaters than others, but ultimately, we nightmares thrive predominantly on feasting on Alamirians. And as you may have noticed, the Hlahan is often short on Alamirians because of –”

  “The Rift,” I remembered. “The wall that separates the north from the south.”

  “That’s only a small part of it. Come.”

  She gestured me over to the map spread out on the table. “This,” she pointed to a patch of land with a pin placed on it. “Is where we are. South-East Alamir. The Hlahan Lands which start from the end of the Pretender’s Forest, and ends here –” She dragged her hand over the map. “At Fort Sobaka.”

  The distance was simultaneously smaller and larger than I expected. The Hlahan alone, if I were to judge based on my knowledge of earth geography, was about the size of the state of Texas. It was large, certainly, but at the same time it wasn’t. Dominating all Domains in the Hlahan and making all of it mine would mean controlling a territory of that size. Nowhere near controlling a whole country – but it was still no small feat.

  “Down to the extreme south or the South-South as it’s called, lies the Kingdom of the Midwarves – Jordstal.”

  “It’s… small?” I asked. From what I saw on the map, it couldn’t have been any larger than the city of London.

  “The Midwarves create Underground Metropolises. So, while the surface atop looks tiny, their Kingdom is connected through a myriad of underground routes that go deeper, and deeper within. If you were to attempt to map out the full breadth of their territory via underground routes…”

  Erzili grabbed another map, superimposing it over the first one. “Then this would be it.”

  The lines on the map stretched outward like lightning strikes woven by a drunk spider. “That’s… much larger.” Jordstal went from being the size of London to being the size of China. “Certainly larger.”

  “Now,” Erzili returned to the map. “To the South-West, we have the Elvani Capital, the floating cities of Oreilles.”

  “I’m sorry, floating cities?”

  Erzili sighed wistfully. “One of the Nine Wonders of the Advanced Era. The Floating Cities of Oreilles – a land of mystery, magic, and hotspot for lovers, minstrels, troubadours and the recently eloped.”

  She clapped. “It’s built upon a ridiculous amount of dark sorcery, night-magic and bloodshed, but it is a truly beautiful place. Erzili hardly believed it would become the marvel it is now, especially after their civil war. Bards sing today of the Elvani Wars as some great battle between those with good virtue and those without, but Erzili was there. Erzili remembers, how it all began because of one brother’s intense desire to fuck his sister and the chaos that unveiled from it all.”

  “…fascinating.”

  “Fascinating indeed,” Erzili laughed. “Elvani age slowly, and so their dispute lasted several hundred years until one young warrior attained a Floater Relic that ended the wars and divided the Elvani into factions. The Qe’al Du’ud, or the Black Elvani, and the Qe’al Puka, or the White Elvani.”

  “Which faction supported the incest?”

  “Neither. The faction that did, was the Qe’al Pel. They’re called Mud Elvani. Muckers, if you wish to be crass. Sold to other races as entertainment, labor, livestock, or property.” Erzili let out a shrill laugh. “The Elvani have memories as long as they have lives, and they can keep a grudge for centuries.”

  “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

  “So, you can see why nightmares of the south have a bit of an issue.”

  “You can’t attack the Elvani because they’re in the sky, you can’t attack the Midwarves because they’re deep underground, and you can’t attack the Humans because they’re behind a giant wall.”

  “Exactly, darling,” Erzili explained. “That only leaves the other races. Druids are absurdly rare. Leporinians repopulate like rabbits, but they are a nomadic tribe, traveling the world in some ridiculous quest to find their Messiah. We feast on them when we see them, but we can’t rely on their arrivals.”

  “What about the other two?” I asked. “Alamir has seven races doesn’t it? Humans, Druids, Leporinians, Midwarves, Elvani –”

  “Lycaoni and Felani.” Erzili completed. “We tend not to hunt them.”

  “They don’t have a pleasant taste?”

  “On the contrary. However, unlike all others, Lycaoni and Felani are warrior races. Trained from birth to fight or die, the weakest amongst them are either killed by their tribe or rendered sterile and sold to wandering slave traders.” Erzili placed her hand on her chin. “How should Erzili put this…”

  She walked around the room, humming in thought.

  “Fighting a Felani or Lycaoni is something you should only do when you have absolutely no other choice. They do not understand surrender. They do not fear death. They do not take prisoners. If you find yourself pitted against one, prepare either for death or a pyrrhic victory. They believe that they will not be granted access to the afterlife if they do not at least deprive their opponent of a body part before they die, so from the start of a battle, they will attack with the aim not to kill, but to plunder.”

  I could understand why it would be a bad idea to try to hunt a race like that for food. “The risks are too high.”

  Erzili nodded. “The Lycaoni and Felani hunt and kill each other for sport and merriment. They are the races closest to nightmares in a lot of ways, yet, in numerous others, they are our opposites. Erzili feels that the only reason they are not the dominant races in Alamir is that they have no desire for anything except battle, bloodshed, and plunder. The finer arts of developing a civilization are lost on them.”

  She pointed to the map. “The Lycaoni can mostly be found in the employ of individuals as guards and sentries or being hired as extra hands to support a military campaign. The Felani however are often assassins, brigands and soldiers-of-fortune. Erzili has had a run-in with them numerous times. They are dangerously formidable.”

  I took a seat on Erzili’s bed, my steepled hands in front of me as I stared at the map on the wall. My gaze flickered from the map to the Slithercreep, and back to the map again, and I found myself chuckling at it all.

  “Something amusing you?”

  “…I just realized how little of this world I knew.” I said. “I was like a toad at the bottom of a well, staring out and believing that the small part of the sky I could see was all that there was to i
t.”

  “How poetic,” Erzili said. “Do regard Erzili with more verses like that, will you?”

  I laughed. “I’ll try.”

  Such a vast world. Such a vast world and Oblivion had told me to end it. To destroy it. I barked a laugh. No. Absolutely not. He was stark mad if he wanted me to destroy this world.

  “So,” Erzili continued her lecture. “Fort Zyvar and my darlings have been managing to get by through feasting on other nightmares. Feasting on wildlife sustains us sometimes, but it is not feasible. Other times, we get fortunate and feast on travelers and traders who enter the area. Our range of available food is limited by three things –”

  She pointed to the map. “Krvavi Lagoon.” She pointed, stretching her finger, to another location. “Fort Sobaka.” She stretched to the final one. “The Rift.”

  I examined the map. “…there’s a settlement on the other side of Krvavi Lagoon?”

  Erzili nodded. “A settlement of banished humans from the Rift, and a few Leporinians who decided to abandon the nomadic lifestyle. A suitable source of food for Erzili’s darlings that’ll last, with some rationing, at least several months.”

  “I’m sensing there’s a ‘but.’”

  “Krvavi Lagoon is the Domain of a nightmare called Giggles. The air is rife with an impassable fog and a toxic gas that makes all those who inhale it die from unstoppable laughter. If the laughter doesn’t kill you, the noise you make will give away your location in the fog, and you will be beseeched by Mistlings that will tear you into a thousand pieces.”

  I scratched my arm through my armor. “Of course.”

  Erzili gave me a large smile. “With you, here, Janus, Erzili believes we may be able to defeat Giggles and add him to our ranks. Or, at the very least, eliminate him, and secure the Lagoon as part of our territory.”

  She grabbed several wooden pieces, placing them on the map on the table. “If we can secure the Lagoon, we’ll have a way to directly land an attack on Fort Sobaka. Erzili’s spies report that the Kobolds have an excess of food they’ve been stockpiling in preparation for Ghash’s call to summon a Horde.”

  “You have spies?”

  Her lips twitched. “Erzili believes it’ll be best to take Fort Sobaka before they mobilize the Horde. Of course, for that end, we’ll need to first take Krvavi Lagoon.”

  “Yes, yes, I got it.” I waved my hand. “Take the Lagoon, get food, then take the Fort, get more food and more troops.”

  “In the meantime, Erzili will assign a team to head into Masakh Mountain and find the memory-thief, so you can rest easy your concerns about losing your memory.”

  My hand waving in the air stopped. “You remembered.”

  She knelt in front of me, taking my gauntleted hand into hers. “Janus, you are my Master. Your concerns are my concerns. Your wishes, my wishes. Your desires, my desires.

  Your wrath, my wrath. Your people shall be Erzili’s people, just as you, shall be Erzili’s god.”

  Her blue eyes sparkled with an unearthly light. Her hand, softly, took off my gauntlet and slipped her palm into mine. Her flesh was warm. It was a warmth I had all but forgotten. A warmth so familiar, and yet, so foreign.

  “Thank you… Erzili.”

  The Slithercreep smiled at me. Soft lips kissed the back of my hand. I felt electricity run up my spine from the touch. She was beautiful. Beautiful, but not real. Yet, I found myself asking what was and wasn’t real. Whether I, a being who had been nothing but a skeleton for the longest time, had the right to judge what was and wasn’t real.

  Her touch was real. Her smile was real. Her compassion, was real.

  I removed my mask, dropping it to the side. I pulled off the gauntlet of my second hand, keeping it aside. I touched her face. She examined her blue eyes. Drank in the beauty of her rich, chocolate skin.

  “Janus…”

  “Just… for a moment…”

  Her lips, I realized, were a myriad of tastes. She could make them into anything she wanted. I tasted wine, juice, fruits. I tasted blood, hard liquor, smoke. I tasted the sea, leaves, vines. I tasted paper, ink, and sand. The tastes blurred as I searched for more, my tongue, hungry for more, my chest, hungrier for more.

  I knew I was entering into a rabbit hole. Going to the point of no return. As my hands roamed, my mind felt the softness of flesh, my ears heard the shortness of breath, my nostrils breathed a rich scent of roses, lavender, flowers, arousal –

  To find comfort in the embrace of a nightmare, softness and beauty in the deepest hearts of darkness. It was with a manic, ardent sense of fervor that I stripped down to nothingness, staring into the rich, sultry blue eyes of the woman before me. It was with frenzied, chaotic passion, that I allowed myself, without care nor restraint, feel the familiar warmth of a fire, the sensation of a woman.

  For the first time since I was reborn in Alamir…

  I was alive.

  Chapter 13: Better than One

  “Sir, sir? Um – sir, kindly wake up sir.”

  I startled, leaning back against my chair, my eyes immediately going wide. Chair? Since when does Fort Zyvar have chairs?

  A soft, leathery chair, enough that I could lean back into it, enough that it was immediately memorable, in that the seat was adjusted to a height that suited me perfectly. My eyes, opened, to stare at the scene before me. A large office, the chatter of workers and bustle of activities going on in the background. A familiar window, a familiar desk, littered with papers, documents and a laptop with a suspended online chess game.

  “Sir?”

  My head snapped up, to the feminine voice. Distinct. Memorable. The plain black hair, office skirt, and top brought back memories I did not remember I ever had. The rectangular-rimmed glasses, and perpetual uncertain look on her face.

  “Jen…Jennifer?”

  Jennifer Herbert’s uncertain expression turned into one of worry. “Is something wrong sir? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  My lips felt dry. I stared, hard. Each second felt like a minute, and the minutes stretched on, with Jennifer adjusting her skirt and her buttons in a typical manner she would do when feeling subconscious.

  “Sir… the papers –”

  “This… this is…”

  Déjà vu was not enough to encompass the feeling. I stood promptly, startling her. Two long strides and I grabbed her arm, checking, and examining.

  “S-sir – what are you doing?”

  Warm to the touch. The tactile sensations were indistinguishable from reality. I took a whiff, ignoring her immediate shudder of complaint, and the familiar scent of lilac hit my nose. The scent of her perfume mixed with her natural smell, a smell I had forgotten, but could never truly forget.

  She ripped her arm free, backing away from me. “Sir.” Her voice became firm. Her gaze flickered to behind me, outside my office. “I would kindly ask you to stop.”

  I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. A laugh escaped my lips as I started counting from one to ten. Upon reaching ten, I opened my eyes again, and Jennifer still stood, gazing at me with equal parts caution and concern.

  “This is a good illusion,” I said, finally. “Flawless even. The smells, the sights, the touch –”

  Jennifer backed away. “Sir… are you… are you alright?”

  “Stop it.” I snarled. “This isn’t real. I know it isn’t.”

  “Sir, should I call –”

  “Shut up,” I said, closing my eyes again. “Shut up. Shut up.” I opened my eyes. “Is this supposed to be a dream? A nightmare? Who are you, and why are you doing this?”

  “I – I don’t understand.”

  I took a deep breath, and counted backward from ten. Counting down until I reached one, I returned to my seat. “Even if you somehow could make a perfect replica of my world, you wouldn’t be able to get everything.”

  I tapped my pockets and froze once I felt it. My hand slipped within, a familiar key attached to military dog tags emerged from within. My hand, shakily, r
eached for the desk, the bottom drawer. I inserted the key, turned it, the sound of the mechanism unlocking hitting my ears with a click. Jennifer stood a fair distance away from me as I opened the bottom left drawer.

  The contents were as I remembered it. An old Cuban cigar. A bygone-era handheld console. A small picture of her –

  My mother.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  No one in the world should have known the contents of this drawer. No illusion in the world should have brought it before me, in vivid detail. My mother’s face, complete with blonde hair, dark eyes and an empty, almost hollow smile.

  “This isn’t fucking funny.”

  Not an illusion. A memory. I was in my memory. I was reliving my memory. Why am I reliving my memory? Was this the work of Erzili? The work of the memory-thief she spoke of? No, no, it couldn’t be possible.

  “Sir – ”

  “I said shut up.”

  I slammed my hands against the table, gritting my teeth. Think, Janus, think. Someone was making me relive my memory. What was the last thing I remembered?

  I remember kissing Erzili, and then –

  Then having sex. Erzili was the perfect lover, because of the ability to morph and change shape and form. The experience had been nothing like I’d ever remembered –

  Focus, Janus.

  There were no recollections of finishing. No recollections of how the night ended. One minute, I was having sex with Erzili, the next, I was waking up here, within my memories. I didn’t understand how. I didn’t know what happened in between that time frame.

  “Erzili!” I called.

  “Sir –”

  “Erzili! What’s going on? Are you there?!”

  Jennifer, no, my memory of Jennifer, grew even further concerned. “Sir… I – I think I’ll come back…”

  She slinked away, past the door, and I snarled as I chased after her. “Come back here!”

  The door slammed shut behind her. I reached for it, pulling with the full force of my might, but it wouldn’t budge. It wouldn’t move. I grit my teeth even harder. Taking another, fuller, deeper breath, I realized it was exactly what they wanted. Whoever it was, whatever it was, that put me in here, wanted me to panic. To get angry. To toy with me.