Woodcastle

by Kell Inkston

  “We’re not overlords, regrettably. The more essence Chaos spends to enslave you, the stronger and smarter you’ll be in most cases, like a magnification of your previous abilities. Chaos would use the same amount of essence engulfing an Overlord to make a super badass killing machine as he would to turn me into a better cook, which basically is what I am. Basically, he could make any three of us strong, smart, and agile enough to be Operator Minions, he’d just have to spend about five times as much of his essence on us to get us to that point. You understand?” Cooking Minion says as he flips about the sauce pan that’s half his size.

  Aoline squints in thought. “Essence… The black and white stuff?” she asks, making sure she’s on the same page. Cooking Minion slyly fires a glance over to Magic Minion, which she quickly returns with glee.

  “That’s right. You could surpass Royal Knight Order in a day if he so chose ... hmm,” Cooking Minion says.

  “What’s the matter?” Aoline asks.

  “Looks like you’re having some trouble stirring. Is it tiring?” Cooking Minion asks.

  “It really is. Had no idea it was this hard!”

  “Yup, perhaps Magic Minion could help out. She definitely wouldn’t get tired,” Cooking Minion says, squinting his eye just a bit in a very Chaos-like manner. Aoline pauses a moment, and shrugs, remembering how easily Order defeated the three minions in the golden swamp.

  “Yeah, alright,” she says with a confidant smile, making a quick hand-gesture to remove the shackle using magic.

  Magic Minion stretches her freed neck about a moment, exaggerating her relief in front of Combat Minion, who’s still chained like a dog. “Thank you. The whipping, then?” Magic Minion asks. Cooking Minion nods as Magic Minion takes the bowl and stirring tool from Aoline.

  “That’s right. Thanks,” Cooking Minion says with a gleeful, victorious smile. Aoline steps back over to Combat Minion, to keep an eye on both of the freed Minions to make sure they don’t do anything treacherous. She doesn’t see it, but Cooking Minion makes an incredibly light gesture that only Combat Minion picks up on. He’s a brutish enough creature, but he’s pretty observant when the situation calls.

  “Feel better?” Cooking Minion asks Aoline. Magic Minion’s grin widens comically as she watches, from the corner of her eye, Combat Minion raise a leg behind Aoline. The knight nods.

  “I do, thank you!” she says with a polite smile, being set under the impression that perhaps Minions of Chaos really aren’t all that bad. Cooking Minion puts down the sauce pan, and looks straight at her with an enthused, condescending expression.

  “Well that’s nice, and how’s your head?” he asks. Aoline looks at him a bit strangely, completely unaware of Combat Minion’s solid heel hovering directly over her head.

  “Eh, fine, why would you. Heh, wait, you don’t actually think you could beat me down in a fight, do you?” she asks with a confidant smile. Magic Minion cracks up in laughter and turns to look Aoline in the eyes.

  “Oh no, not us, per se,” she says mockingly. Aoline stares at the two for a moment, and just as the thought enters her head who they might be referring to, she is overcome with the weighted force of Combat Minion’s foot down upon her head. She falls to her knees, and then on her face, completely unconscious.

  “Well done, Combat Minion.”

  “Yeah, not half bad I guess. Sorry about earlier, I suppose,” the Magic and Cooking Minions say with congratulatory gestures. Combat Minion scoffs, and with a quick snap, pulls the chain group off from the table that Aoline so-foolishly set it to.

  “Thanks. Not bad yourselves. Got to say as much as I dislike you, Cook, you’re pretty good with that tongue of yours,” Combat Minion says with a straight, respectable nod.

  “Oh my, gentlemen, please,” Magic Minion interjects with a lewd tone, causing the two male Minions to reel in shock.

  “G-gross!” Cooking Minion spits in disgust.

  “That’s not what I meant! Idiot! Ah-he-anyway, let’s get out of here and report back. He’ll be happy to hear The High Tea really is happening soon,” Combat Minion says with a degraded scowl. Magic Minion chuckles under her breath, and nods.

  “Right, let’s be off,” she says as she and Combat Minion start for the door to the main hall. Cooking Minion hops down from the counter and starts for the door, but stops when he passes Aoline.

  “Hey, should we bring the girl?” the cook asks. Combat Minion shrugs.

  “If you’ll carry her. I’m sure Chaos would be thrilled,” he says, not in the mood to carry an unconscious person all the miles back to the hidden tower where they’ll make the jump to one of the main towers. Cooking Minion looks over Aoline, sighs, and does his best to pick her up. Augmented by Chaos’ essence, she’s not hard at all for the small Minion to pick up, and carry over to the other two.

  “Ready!” he says with a peppy tone. Combat Minion rolls his glowing white eyes, and quietly opens the door.

  At the other side of the door is Law, instantly locking onto the three with a stern, hawk-like gaze, and Dresmond, plethora of knives at th ready.

  “Going somewhere, are we?” Law asks with his mace close at hand. The two smaller minions let out various cries of shock, diving away from the door, barely missing Law’s authoritative kick through the doors into the kitchen. Combat Minion quickly regains his footing to face the two knights as Magic Minion gains a few meters for spells and Cooking Minion rushes away with Aoline to take off for a few miles, if he can.

  Combat Minion takes the initiative to attack, throwing a rock-shattering punch at Law, quickly dodged and returned with the shaft of Law’s mace to the face. To the side Dresmond flows with water-like grace past the two fighters to towards Magic Minion. The matches made, the four engage.

  With a fierce tackle, Combat Minion rushes at Law’s neck. Law only needs to raise his left arm to thwart Combat’s attempt and send the Chaos-servant into the wall. Pinning Combat Minion, Law drops his mace with a thud to strike at his face, forcing his plate gauntlet into his target’s teeth with crushing strength. Combat Minion bites into the gauntlet with his Chaos-augmented jaws, quickly skewing the armor and digging into Law’s scales. Law won’t have that. With a display of gargantuan strength, Law tears the caught metal from his hand, freeing it from Combat Minion’s teeth, the Dragon-Kin then delivers one last punch into Combat Minion’s face, this time with enough force to break through the blacker-than-pitch exoskeleton and cause fierce injuries. Head crushed and white essence spewing out, Combat Minion falls to his side, unconscious.

  Law turns to Dresmond, who is being strangled by Magic Minion in a wrestling match he was fool-hardy enough to challenge her in. Magic Minion quickly realizes Combat Minion’s lost his fight, and seeing Law hurdle over to her like an angry train, she naturally attempts to rise up and dodge the strike. She does not expect Dresmond to put all of his force in keeping her close, however. Slowed by the weight of the young knight, Magic Minion is tackled to the ground by Law, who promptly gets up and lets down his heavy boot into her face, breaking through her exoskeleton in the same manner as Combat Minion. She jolts at the shock of her innards being compromised, and then loses consciousness as her mortal white spews across the dragon-kin’s boot. Law offers Dresmond his hand, and brings the young knight to his feet.

  “Not bad, Dresmond,” the dragon-kin says, surveying the area for more enemies. Dresmond coughs and wheezes a bit, but regains normal breathing only a moment after.

  “Thank you, Rayull. I had no idea even his minions were that strong,” he says.

  “Yeah, you should see what he can do ... Say, weren’t there three of them?” Law asks. Upon saying that, Law can hear a quiet squeak of terror coming from over behind the far counter.

  “The counter,” Dresmond states quickly, slowly approaching the mysterious squeaking kitchen island with Rayull.

  “Eh, uh, yes! The counter! Magic Counter of Death Doom! Overlord Counter’s my name; lord of the ultimate ... uh, counter attack! How c
an I help you weaklings?” the counter speaks out in a voice suspiciously similar to that of Cooking Minion’s.

  “How about you turn yourself in, Mr. Overlord,” Law says, clubbing his hand with his mace, rather like a bat. The counter squeals in horror.

  “Uh, no, no I think that’s pretty unnecessary, considering there’s no way you could ever dream to beat- oh, crap,” the counter says as if it had suddenly noticed an unconscious girl waking up.

  “Ow! My head! You!” Another counter-bound voice says as Dresmond and Law quicken their step to reveal Overlord Counter’s mysterious identity. Amidst the sounds of discomfort and punches being thrown, the two knights come to find Aoline, with a notable red mark on her forehead, dealing the knock-out blow to Cooking Minion. Aoline gets up to her feet, rubbing the mark with a long scowl.

  “Are you alright?” Law asks blandly.

  Aoline nods with a pain-racked expression on her face. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. They’re a tricky bunch.”

  “For certain. How did two of them get out of the shackles?” Law asks as he picks up the small Cooking Minion and throws him over to the pile of other defeated minions. Aoline inhales sharply through her teeth, aptly forgetting the pain on her head in sight of the pain on her self-image.

  “Eh, well, you see ... it’s really the funniest things that they were-”

  “This is going to look super good on your after-action report,” Law cuts, sharply looking forward, away from Aoline. She sighs, and nods.

  “Y-yes sir, won’t happen again,” she says, looking away to ensure a lack of eye-contact.

  “Good, now you two go to bed. I’ll reset the shackles and keep an eye on ‘em tonight,” Law says with a grim tone, gathering up the unconscious minions to restrain them with the chains. Dresmond promptly salutes, and then Aoline quickly after.

  “Thank you, sir. Good night. I’ll be hitting the pub before I lay down,” Dresmond says.

  “Thank you, sir,” Aoline mutters with a defeated tone.

  At that, the two younger knights leave the tall dragon-kin, and go about the night. Law forgoes a trip to the tavern and keeps a straight eye on the minions who will, once they regenerate their bodies, likely attempt another escape. Aoline locates her designated bed and crashes into its inviting comfort at a second’s notice. Dresmond stays up, the war and the invisible enemy soldiers that lurk about at the corners of his eyes still weighing heavily on his mind. Elsewhere, a certain knight titled Love is having an even more-eventful night.

  Chapter Thirteen: A Love for the Impossible Realm

  Overlooking a great, horrific chasm is Love, armed with nothing but her bow, Worldloss, and her centuries of experience with this place that so few have walked. Standing upon a complex parabola, she carefully observes the movement in the insane canyon below.

  All below her are equations, impossible creatures, and sentient somethings that could not exist in any other realm; at least, in her knowledge of things, which would best be described as wide, but misty. With a calm expression she surveys the land down under, seemingly-limitless abysses of chaos and confusion, swirling about like a great blender of possibility. The realms of the physical and the spirit, the brutish and the noble, the living and the inanimate, the yes and the no, all meet here in this space, meshing out of their defined orders.

  Love spots at the edge of her vision a necromancer being placed into an enormous oven by the element Oxygen, among the most pretentious of the gaseous nobility. Guarding nearby is the concept of readiness and something not yet invented, called a man bun. She slides down the ridge, steps across a faint field of flowery quips, and then hops out of the carriage. In the most impossible way she can, she approaches the three under the gaze of more armies of nonsense.

  “Cheerio, chaps,” Love begins, quickly adjusting to their probable style of speaking.

  “Day,” the man bun says.

  “Save tha’ queen,” the concept of readiness says with a bow.

  “An’ you, gov’na. Whatcha’ bakin’?” she asks.

  “Some squibble that thought it good t’have himself a lil’ chuckle on th’ entry mount. We’ll show ‘em. Almost knocked ‘is block off but we thought’a cook ‘em ‘stead. ‘E’ll make a fine puddy. That right?” Internet asks Oxygen.

  “Wot?” Oxygen says, too busy looking at the gigantic temperature knob to pay attention.

  “Tha’ squibble.”

  “Aye, wot uf’em?”

  “ ’E’ll be a puddy?”

  “Oh! Aye, a fine puddy,” Oxygen agrees with a half-existent nod. Love crosses her arms and hums.

  “Not’sa sure about that, gov’,” she interjects.

  “Eh?” Oxygen grunts.

  “I could get y’somethin’ better I reckon.”

  “Eh?”

  “Swear on me mum,” Love says, swearing distinctively upon her maternal figure. Oxygen looks over to the man-bun, and looks back.

  “What’a might that be?” Oxygen asks, skeptically crossing its protons. Love smiles, nods, and begins shuffling through her many layers of clothing. She was never much of one for wearing armor; simply not enough compartments and pockets for her.

  She pulls out a stuffed bear, and displays it clearly like a legendary artifact.

  “This’n?” she asks.

  “Smells like oldness,” Readiness comments.

  “I prefer the term ‘ancienticity’,” she replies with her usual calm tone. Readiness looks over to Oxygen.

  “Ancienticity is pretty good f’a puddy, aye?”

  “Aye, ‘spose so, but not enough to feed th’whol’uv’us. Wot els’a got?” Oxygen says, taking the bear and signaling the man bun to stop heating up the oven. Love searches her belongings again, and pulls out a card.

  “So wot? Sa’bloody card,” Internet says.

  “Yes, but it’s an ace, and the suit is spades,” Love says with a diplomatic tone. Readiness gasps.

  “Ohh! The rarest o’em all. Eh, Oxy?”

  “Yeh that’ll be tasty. One more thing like that n’it’ll be gold, lass,” the leader of the three says as it takes the card and places the bear on top of it. Love searches about her person some more, and a look of slight concern crosses her features. She pulls out a magic gem, glowing with a wintery radiance.

  “Crysta’ of th’ Cold World? Pretty big stuff with them’s elite magi-” Love is cut off over the sounds of disgust and displeasure from the three somethings surrounding her.

  “Gross. Yeh got somethin’ else?” Oxygen says with a displeased scowl. Love goes through again, and pulls out an enchanted knife.

  “Shiv of the s-”

  “Humans, I tell ya’ two, c’n eva’ follo’ through wit’ter ‘romsies,” Readiness says with an indignant nod. Oxygen shrugs.

  “True. Ya’ got anythin’a else? Ya’ know, of value?” it asks, pushing its face against Love’s. Meeo, under the impression she has one last try, pulls out her ace in the hole.

  “My bow, WorldLoss.”

  “Ehhh, I ‘unno, la-”

  “Oh, it’s very dear to me. It was given to me by Reinen’s king before we lost him and its people all funneled into all the Western Kingdoms. It was him that taught me that items are only tools that a person shouldn’t miss, because a newer, better tool is always on the way to help you with newer, bigger problems. After I gave him my old bow, he gave me this one, and it’s served me faithfully for thousands of years. However, if you really want it, I would gladly gi-”

  “A SENSICAL CREATURE IN OUR REALM, EH?” booms a voice from far away. The four look aside to see a great, nonsensical shadow-figure, spiraling over them. Love sighs, and enters a fletching stance.

  “Oh, why hello there,” Love greets, bow readied, but lowered to appear less threatening.

  “AHH, LOVE! MY MOST PRIZED PREY! FOR WHAT REASON HAVE YOU STUMBLED INTO THIS LAND? ANOTHER OF YOUR LAUGHABLE TEA PARTIES, NO DOUBT!”

  “Mmm, actually no, not this time. I’m here to get this necromancer out of this oven her
e. Once I’ve gotten it I will leave promptly, if you’d allow me, m’lord,” Love says with a polite nod of the head. The tall figure, now flushing the colors of Fall through its body, laughs cruelly.

  “IT’S BEEN TOO LONG SINCE I’VE TASTED THE FLESH OF A HUMAN. I’D GLADLY RELEASE THE NECROMANCER WERE YOU TO BE COOKED IN ITS STEAD!”

  “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible. I need to bring it back personally and make sure it doesn’t escape.”

  “THEN I’LL JUST TAKE YOU NOW, THEN!”

  “Oh, you’re so bothersome, you anomaly. Isn’t there any way we could figure this out with civility?”

  “... IT IS POSSIBLE, BUT ONLY IF YOU RECONSIDER MY OFFER TO BECOME MY BRI-”

  Love winces. “I certainly will not reconsider, you something or other.”

  “VERY WELL! THAT’S LORD SOMETHING TO YOU! IF I SHANT HAVE MY ONLY HUMAN COUNTER PART, THEN NONE SHOULD EXIST! MEET DEATH!” the towering enigma screams as it raises its great arms forward.

  Love begins firing off arrows at “Lord Something” while casting a spell under her breath. Something is able to nullify most of the bolts, but is struck in the forehead with one, knocking him forward three inches, due to the nonsensical physical attributes of the realm. Just as Something grasps for Love, she finishes her spell.

  “Hal Coy,” she says with a light smile, releasing her gravity spell. As she expected, the spell has the opposite effect, and rather than creating a condensing space that pulls in all around it, it instead repulses. The three whatever-you-call-thems, the oven, and Lord Something are all forced away as Love leaps through the air and latches onto the flying oven. Politely knocking, the oven opens for her to free the necromancer. The moment an escape is offered, the necromancer leaps up from its hot prison, only to have a string tied around its metallic pinkie finger by Love with practiced speed. She knows well that these sorts of things will only work until she can get it outside of Everlock, then things will be back to normal.