by Tao Wong
Attention, pulled back, when Ayuri appears, Blink Stepping right up to me. Her friends are behind her, squaring off against Bolo and Mikito, but Ayuri only has eyes for me. And the Empress Apparent. Our only threats here are the Honor Guards, the Champion, and the Empress herself. Everyone else is either too weak or Shackled.
“She asked you a question, Redeemer,” Ayuri snaps. Anger at being betrayed, at being tricked pulses from her. She’s just out of easy reach, though with our conjured weapons, it’d be a simple matter to hurt one another. But we’re not there yet.
Not yet.
“Exactly what you asked me to do, Champion.” I nod to the Empress, trying for nonchalance. Failing, mostly. “Empress.”
“She was not the candidate you mentioned,” Ayuri replies.
“No. But she is what you guys need.”
“You will fix this, Paladin,” the Empress says from her position above. She’s leaning forward, focusing the aura on me.
My knees buckle again, and I have to force them up. Warnings flash as I start taking damage, my body compressed and crushed by a pressure that swallows me up, makes it impossible to move. “And if I refuse?”
“Then we have other candidates. We can wait,” the Empress snarls.
I watch a finger of hers twitch, and I realize she might act against the still-transforming Empress.
The simplest, easiest way to resolve this situation would be to kill Catrin. But they haven’t. Which means as much as they’re opposing my words, they’re still hesitant. Because this is my choice as a Paladin. Webs of social expectations, of engrained duty, of what we imagine our own honor and beliefs are, they can bind our actions. Bind us motionless in threads stronger than titanium.
Especially when you’ve got a reporter feeding this all directly to the world and the Empire at large.
Gainsaying me, in full public view, would be dangerous. Sneaking Harry’s report around the throne’s security system was annoying, but worth it. He’s still getting significant pushback, but his Skills are letting him do it. His Skills and those of fellow Reporters, Galaxy-wide and in this Empire. Building friends, building resources. The Empress could shut it down, but at this point, the information is out.
“Here, let me make it easy for you.” I step back to draw their attention to me again and lessen the threat to Catrin.
Then I spin around, stumbling a little under the pressure exerted by the aura. I can’t help but chuckle at the blood that comes from my mouth as I inadvertently bite my lip. I focus, pushing back against the aura. Triggering my own to help alleviate the pressure. It helps. A little.
I meet the gazes of the four initiates, including Anayton’s disappointed gaze, and see concern in all their eyes. I see it all, then ignore it.
I reach for the library. For the knowledge I have within me, my understanding of the System. I remember how I did it before, then reach sideways and back, touching upon the Quest I gave them. Feeling for the Levels of success they each had.
Then I reach for the Quest I just completed. The one only a Paladin could have received.
And I push.
It’s like trying to move a car in snow. As you put your shoulder to it, as your feet slip and slide, as wheels spin, offering no traction. And you strain, putting everything you have into the push, knowing that if you wait just a little too long, if you fail, the wind, the dropping temperature at night will get you. Have you ever felt metal so cold that to place your skin against it would glue it together?
Ever had to put your hands on the car anyway? And push? Because there’s no one else, no other choice but to do the work. You push, against cold, against the slick ground with booted feet, as you sink deeper and deeper into the snowbank. You push as wheels spin. To live.
If you’ve ever done that, then you know what it’s like, in small part. Maybe a thousandth of what it is to pitch myself against the System.
There’s no additional willpower attribute increase, no System-aided benefit to this kind of work. It’s all human stubbornness against cold, unfeeling glyphs and an unspeakable language. Throwing myself into torrents of information with nothing more than the tether of my will and spirit to hold me aloft.
All so that I can demand the System do what I tell it to do. And it’s only because there’s a groove, an option within the Class Quest System at all, that I can make it work. That I can bump the initiates from one portion of their completed Quest to another Quest, to the completed Empire Quest, and let them finish that too.
I make them Paladins because they helped me bring the Empress Apparent here. They safeguarded her, through threats, external and internal. And because it’s an Empire Quest, because they’re Paladin initiates, the System yields.
Not without taking a payment from me.
Because everything has a cost. Even if you aren’t the one paying it.
I scream into the void as the payment consumes my fragile soul, as the System extracts its price from me. I scream, and all I can do is wrap myself up in my most trusted of protections before I fall unconscious.
***
When I come to, Sanctum is still up. Ayuri, her people, the Empress Apparent, my team sans Harry, and the initiates are all captured within the bubble. Everyone else is kept outside.
My body feels as if every bone in it was shattered and put back together. Ali, hovering beside me, is muttering imprecations, fingers dancing as he manipulates the System, data streams and notifications that I barely glimpse. Too much, too much data, too much information. Though I see more and more boxes set aside for my later perusal.
But he’s not the most important figure among those here. What he’s doing for me is, as always, left unsaid and unappreciated by most. For there’s bigger drama. The Paladins—the former initiates—are standing in a semi-circle around the still-transforming Empress Apparent. The Empress Apparent’s last line of defense.
My team, on the other hand, is looking worse for the wear, as are Ayuri and her people. Bolo’s facing off against Ayuri, his hammer out, glowing. His scalemail is chipped, one entire shoulder pauldron shattered, portions of it embedded within his body. Ayuri’s nursing a broken hand, one that is slowly healing, while Mayaya glares at Dornalor, who’s smirking. The Pirate Captain hates to look as if he’s not in control, but he’s lucky we’re stuck in this Sphere. Mayaya’s severely curtailed, locked out of reality as she is here. On the other hand, Mikito is the least injured, her naginata blade resting on Unilo’s neck.
“Owww!” I complain.
My word draws attention, making everyone look at me. I push myself to my feet, careful to keep an eye on the Champion. My health is still glowing red, slowly ticking upward but at a slower-than-normal rate in this benighted hellhole of a Sphere. But I’m alive.
“Damn good thing, boy-o, that you didn’t take your Class up. You definitely wouldn’t have survived if you’d done that,” Ali sends.
I grunt, acknowledging his words. Acknowledging how close I got. If I’d raised my Class, the System would have yanked me down again. Forced me out of it. And that kind of damage added to everything else…
Pushing against the System like that isn’t something you should do. Or, hell, something I thought I could do. “What exactly did you do?” Ayuri says. She’s glaring at the Paladins, adjusting her grip on her weapon.
“I gave you what you wanted,” I tell her. “I gave you your Paladins.”
“They had a Quest. They hadn’t finished it,” Unilo says. She clamps her mouth shut when the talking brings blood to the blade.
I wave at Mikito, who frowns but removes the polearm, to Unilo’s relief. I grin, feeling my body slowly heal. The System may not have liked my actions, but it isn’t holding back its usual processes either. My body fixes itself, putting me back in fighting condition, the longer we talk. “I fixed that.”
“How?” Anayton asks.
I look back, seeing the puzzled looks on all the Paladins’ faces. I can’t help but grin. “Questor secret.”
Funny thing is, that’s not even a lie. If not for the library, emplaced within my mind, there would be no way that I’d know how, or even if, such an action was possible.
Before the others can ask for details, Sanctum falls, revealing us to the crowd. I’m a little surprised to see the ring of Honor Guards surrounding us, the addition of artillery weapons that have been deployed all around the throne room. The Empress is still seated on her throne, though a beefed-up protection squad surrounds her. Nearby, Lord Braxton is watching, wary but cordoned off by another group of guards.
As for the rest of the watchers, the old contenders and the nobles, the other courtiers, they’ve been pushed out of the line of fire. Unable to do anything, their bodies and souls Shackled, they’re just an audience for our little drama.
Surprisingly, Harry’s been left alone. I wonder if it’s his Skill or his status as a non-combatant. But he’s still standing, recording. As are the other reporters.
“Champion, what has happened?” Hasaba asks.
“It seems we have three new Paladins,” Ayuri says. “The Redeemer is no longer necessary.”
I grin, all teeth and challenge as I bow to the Empress. “As requested, as promised. Your Paladins. Now we can stop acting as if what I did was a damn travesty and finish this. You can accept my choice. Or kill me.”
Gasps and hisses arise from more than a few guards, from the audience, from Bolo. Mikito doesn’t seem at all surprised, while Donarlor is eyeing the exit, plotting the best way to escape and not looking at all happy that there isn’t one. I kind of feel bad for the Pirate Captain.
“You…” The Queen quickly takes hold of herself as rage burns in her eyes at my open defiance. I can see her mind spinning, working out implications even as the Mana swirl around Catrin slowly dies.
“My Empress, before you act,” Anayton speaks up. She steps away from Catrin, coming up to my shoulder, then passing it. She stops between myself and the Queen and Champion. She spares only a glance at Ayuri before she continues. “Paladin Lee might be loud, confrontational, and overly melodramatic in his actions, but he’s a Paladin.”
“And what do you mean by that?” The Queen’s voice drops, almost hissing.
Freif walks over, his feet somewhat unsteady, his face pale. He’s clenching his fist again and again, as if he wishes he was holding something. A bottle, perhaps. “His choice is our choice.”
Kino, the last to speak, rumbles from his position next to Catrin, “If you kill him, you’ll need to find new Paladins. For we will guard him and the Empress Apparent.”
The Queen doesn’t answer us directly, instead turning her Aura on us. Except this time, there’s something else added to it. I’m not entirely certain what, but it’s sharper, deadlier. None of us manage to hold our feet except the Empress Apparent. Not this time. We crash almost in unison to the floor.
Even Ali is squished, his body made of energy beginning to disperse. I feel newly healed bones and organs crack, split, and bleed. For a second, I regret my actions. Not because of where it’s led me but for those I’ve dragged along. I hadn’t expected the initiates to stand up for me. Hoped, maybe. But not expected.
I hear a commotion from behind. Those who have been Shackled are finding themselves caught in an impossible situation. The Shackles require them to protect the Empress Apparent—who is now under attack from the Empress herself.
If they do something, they die. Do nothing and they die.
Already, Shackles are ripping out of bodies, tightening across flesh and bone, threatening to tear them apart. I assume that’s part of the reason why Hasbata’s been slow to act. To lose so many of her people would weaken the Queen, the Empire greatly.
But I pushed her too far, too hard, perhaps. This time, there’s no let up as her Aura does nothing but crush us, tear at our bodies and souls. As my life slips away, I hear the screams from the Generals, the heads of industry, the nobles rise.
I gambled. Once too often.
And failed. For the last time.
And then, suddenly, blessed relief.
The Aura’s pushed back, the pressure lessened. It’s not all gone, but most of it fades. Like a tide broken by tide-breaking rocks. I stagger to my feet out of sheer stubbornness rather than any sense, driven by anger. My head pounds, blood drips from my nose, eyes, ears, and fingertips themselves. I’m seeing double, triple at times.
But I force myself to stand. Shame at being crushed that easily turns to anger. I stand.
Only to see Catrin before all of us. Pushing back against the Empress with her own Aura. I blink, even as my Mana Sense triggers, showing me the almost unseen struggle. I see the waves of pressure as Auras fight one another. I’m surprised that Catrin’s able to do this, to push back this far.
And, as I think this, the System answers.
Title: The Empress Apparent of Erethra
As the Empress Apparent of Erethra, the titleholder gains certain benefits, reputation changes, and the collected regard of the Empire to wield. In return, certain Class Skills effects by Title Holder will apply to the populace of the Empire.
Effect 1: Gain a lesser version of the Aura of the Empire affect
Effect 2: Major reputation changes among Galactic society
Effect 3: Selected Class Skills affect citizens of the Empire
“Thousand Hells, that’s a Title!” I blurt.
Ali, having pulled himself together, literally, floats over. He joins me in staring at the Empress Apparent before his voice enters my mind. “Yup. How she’s holding the Queen’s aura back to this degree, I don’t know. Must be a combination of her own Skills.”
I shake my head, not interested in the answer. Not right now at least. Instead, I walk forward, joining Catrin. The Empress and the Empress Apparent have their gazes locked upon one another, while everyone else is disregarded.
The very air between them warps, as the System, as the Auras press upon one another. It’s clear that Catrin’s the weaker. That’s why a lesser effect of the pressing, cutting Aura of the Empress is still upon us. But people aren’t actively dying. Not by much at least. Not from the Aura. But there’s a price—I note the nosebleed on Catrin’s face as she strains.
I glance over, spotting Ayuri. She’s standing, her weapon held by her side. But not attacking. I’m grateful that she hasn’t. And I wonder, for once, if she can. As Champion, can she? I don’t know. But I’m grateful, either way. For we are more than our Classes.
“If you were men, I’d say put the… Mana sticks away and stop measuring. Because if you don’t, you’re going to be down a lot of citizens.” I turn, pointing backward to where many of those I Shackled writhe on the floor. A few of the weaker, more Administrative side of society aren’t moving anymore. My chains, my shackles, with their spiked obligations continue to dig in, grinding away at the health of those bound.
There’s a long pause as the Queen considers. Then she finally relaxes her aura, sitting back. Mental commands follow, and the Honor Guard casts spells, fixing the audience. Others are chivied out, pulled away.
I watch, wondering what would happen if she managed to kill the Empress Apparent out of sight. Would the Shackled still die? I’ve bet a lot on the Empress’s sensibility, her desire to keep her Empire strong. I wish I knew better how the Shackles worked, how it might affect them. It was probably explored and discussed in the Paladins’ histories. I just never got to it.
In tense silence, we wait, as the Paladins behind me, as my friends, recover. Only when we’re alone but for the guards and the Queen’s attendants, but for my allies, does the Queen speak.
“Why her?”
“Ask Lord Braxton,” I reply.
The poor man looks startled to be drawn forward like this. But he eventually sighs and prowls forward, some of his earlier subservience fading away, his back straightening. “How long have you know?”
“Since the first night,” I say.
I turn to Catrin, stepping close to her, and take her hand. Sh
e looks slightly amused—until I raise it and turn over the hand to showcase the dark gold ring she always wears.
“When you didn’t ever take this off, when the thread between you and Lord Braxton was so intensely woven. When the Houndmaster and his Hounds made their presence known, helping me. I knew.”
“She’s one of yours?” the Queen says. Now, she’s less angry, more intrigued.
“Yes, Your Empress. One of my internal security members,” Lord Braxton says. Houndmaster, but there are no hounds. Not physically at least. Just figuratively. The Houndmaster chases down those who would be the enemies of the state by loosing his Hounds on them.
“Even so, a spy is not a General. And we need a General,” Hasbata says. But now she’s more argumentative than angry.
“No, you don’t. Your contenders, Brerdain, Julierudi, with the Shackles in place, they can be used to the fullest extent to hold your borders, especially since you’ve got three new Paladins,” I say. “Catrin’s also only mid-Level Advanced Class, so rising in experience, gaining the Skills to aid the entirety of your Empire as your heir Apparent, should be simple. She can grow, given time.”
“So is…” The Queen hesitates, her glance flicking to Anayton. Then realizing that the gig is up, she says it. “Anayton. She who you told us would be your choice. She would have been a good Queen. Honor Guard, loyalty guaranteed, a fighter who could have been a Paladin.”
“Yes. A good Queen.” I look at Anayton, whose face is carefully blank, though I see the confusion within her eyes. The tinge of regret. “But she’ll make a great Paladin.”
When the group looks doubtful, I sigh. “Catrin, your heir Apparent, can play the game, your political game, better than anyone else. She knows what your world needs because she’s been both swanning around among the top of your Society and crawled up from the bottom.
