John scowled. “Experiments. Pet projects. You see, shit right there is why your fantasy analogy—”
“Magical experiments.”
John rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, why the hell are you fully kitted out in battle gear?”
Mitch beamed, unable to contain the jubilation he so clearly felt. “I was putting Carl and the girls through their paces, just to make sure they were ready for what was to come, and of course, to see if it would happen. And it worked, John. It worked!”
John blinked. “What the hell worked?”
His brother clasped him in a fierce hug. “I got a skill increase notification. Saber, fully quantized at Rank 4. Longsword, fully quantized at Rank 3. And then my character sheet popped up!” He all but howled with glee. “I can level up, John. I found the secret. I found out how Highlords can level up!”
John felt a cold chill run down his spine. “Wow. That’s… unexpected, Mitch.”
“I know! Hell, don’t just sit there in a stupor, there’s a world out there to explore! Wrongs to right, quests to take, monsters to slay, and bills to pay.”
John winced. “Awful bro,” he teased, unable to deny the sudden surge of enthusiasm he felt. Scary as it was to think of a flood of Highlords learning whatever secrets Mitch had mastered, the thought of being able to explore a world filled with magic and wonder with his brother by his side definitely lifted his spirits.
Mitch laughed. “Maybe, but the thought of earning experience and leveling up? Directly feeding on the endless potential of every foe we slay, every life we save? Hell, little bro, I haven’t felt this excited since the first time I got laid!” He sighed sadly. “I could have fallen for her, too. Hard. But Dad and I left for Earth the next morning. Ah, well. It hasn’t been that many decades. Maybe I’ll run into her again, sometime.”
John smiled, somehow relieved to see that far from being an act, the playful gamer that reveled in HEMA and online RPGs seemed far closer to the truth of Mitch’s persona than the cold, pitiless gaze that some shrieking fragment of his soul remembered Mitch wearing when John had been strapped down to a dissection table once upon a time, their father dispassionately ordering his right-hand man to begin the extraction.
John grimaced, shaking away awful images he had once thought no more than nightmares.
Mitch gave a satisfied nod, clapping John on the shoulder. “It looks like you’ve boosted your Strength stat. Damn impressive! Now let’s get you kitted up. We’ll train our hearts out and have our men gather intel on possible quests, towns in trouble, or hotspots in our area.”
John couldn't help grinning at that. "My men, you mean." He almost winced as he said it, hating the instant pall that could put on their relationship. But as much as it might risk whatever genuine comradeship that John hoped was blossoming between them, it needed to be said.
For a heartbeat, Mitch glared, before his features lightened with a rueful chuckle. "You know what? Sure, John. Your men, your territory. Hell, you saved my life, and I'm more than grateful. It would be a piss-poor breach of honor and gratitude for me to dispute your claim now." He flashed a grin, and it was only because of his Hunter's Sense that John could smell the worry just underneath Mitch’s affected nonchalance. “Just remember, under no circumstances are you to allow Maintenance or Research to reconnect the power lines to that gate! Honestly, bro, the best thing we can do for our mutual survival is to have them remove it completely. As long as that gate is inert and preferably carted off somewhere and buried in a very deep hole, with the workers killed or mind-wiped, we’re safe.”
John chuckled at that. “Deal. But no killing. I’m going to assume that was a joke. But mind-wipe? Yeah, that sounds like a very good idea. Hell, maybe we better pass on the workout, bro. Let’s go talk to whoever’s in charge of the day-to-day here. I’ll make sure to tell them to keep that gate closed. Healthier for all of us, that way.”
Mitch grinned. “Great minds think alike. And don’t worry. You did a number on that cable! No need to stress it right now. You and I will get a handle on staff and running this territory first thing tomorrow. For now? Let’s celebrate! Good food, good drink, and a good workout. The perfect way to celebrate just being alive and getting ourselves ready for the adventures to come!”
Mitch gave John a look two parts bemused and one part dead serious. “That is, assuming you’re not planning on kicking me out of my ancestral home or anything like that, are you, bro? If you’re still that pissed at me… just tell me up front.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mitch. No matter what shit went down when we were under our father’s heel, we’re still brothers. As long as I’m permitted to live here, I’ll make sure you are as well.”
Mitch’s bow was oddly formal. “Thank you, brother. And as for us being permitted to live here, that’s always the question with any damn succession, isn’t it? Whoever ends up on top in the Ascension could do God-knows-what to the rest of us. Here's to hoping they continue not to give a shit about what goes down here in the South.”
“Amen to that,” John said.
“So let’s focus on all we have to be grateful for. We’re here, we’re alive, and our enemies are stuck on Earth with no way to imprison us or rope us back into any more bullshit experiments. Most of all, we have an edge none of our foes can match. We can all level up! It’s time for us to embrace this second chance at life, adventure our hearts out, and become powers to be feared!”
John chuckled. “Sounds good to me, bro. So where do we kit up around here, anyway?”
“Let’s head to the training grounds. The others are already waiting for us.”
John nodded and followed behind his brother, still feeling a sense of wondrous awe to find out that this entire beautiful mansion and the surrounding property was now technically his, admiring quick glimpses he took into posh bedrooms and welcoming studies. An entire library filled with tomes containing who knew what exotic secrets tempted him with plush leather chairs and couches, but he resisted sufficient to hurry after his brother, lest he get lost in this wondrous manor.
Of course, the constant wide-eyed glances he received from the servitors bustling about the mansion, always genuflecting immediately when his gaze met their own, kept John from getting too lost in his own personal musings, feeling awkward about the whole affair more than anything else. In fact, he hated it. The more people deferred to him, the more he noticed the blinking light in the back of his mind that he was doing all he could not to pay attention to, imagining endless possibilities like a wave function he didn’t dare let collapse into a singular state. Or, easier to visualize, a cup full of rattling dice he didn’t dare let settle for even a heartbeat, lest the snake eyes they reveal seal his doom.
With a quick stop for plates full warm crepes waiting for them in the otherwise empty dining room, slathered in honey and butter alongside chocolate pastries and chilled milk that Mitch devoured as readily as he, they were out the door. John was hit by the sweet fragrance of grass, wildflowers, and honeysuckle the moment he stepped outside. He looked fondly back at the grand building he had just exited, admiring its narrow stained glass windows and walls faced with shimmering red crystal, crenelated parapets making it all seem as much a fortified castle as luxurious manor.
Had it not been night when he had first arrived here on Jordia, and John not desperately fleeing from the facility guards that had been trying to kill him once he had escaped the massive research complex that had blocked all view of what was now effectively his home, he knew he would have been utterly captivated by the majestic manor now glittering so prettily in the sunlight.
His brother clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s all yours, now, along with whatever trouble those idiots in the lab, or the towns nearby, for that matter, get into. Enjoy the headaches, John. I’d be jealous, had my brother not just assured me I could live here scot-free indefinitely, and not have to worry about a thing.”
John winced at his brother’s cocky grin. “Shit. How much paperwork
am I going to have to worry about as, what, administrator? Highlord of this province?”
“Highlord,” his brother said with a chuckle. “And don’t worry. Jokes aside, this place practically runs itself. Seneschal Elgin handles all the day-to-day operations of the Province. The town elders bring their concerns to him, and he brings it to us if he thinks it’s of any significance. Though Father was more hands-on at the research end, with our mutual lack of interest in pursuing old projects, we’ll let Elgin handle them as well. He’s the one who will see to permanently disbanding the gate, first thing in the morning.”
Mitch frowned, gazing at massive chrome and steel complex a short distance away. “That move will significantly cut into our R&D cashflow, but honestly, brother, we've already made a fortune with the data and grants earned with your… ahem… facilitating a cure to the disaster we all knew would happen one day. Of course, we have our redberry, poppy, and cannabis cash crops, and our distillery makes a fantastic redberry wine. Best of all, our Silee plants produce the highest quality Silbion to be found anywhere. That, along with our alchemical gardens, should generate a nice supplemental income well in excess of our expenses.
“The only question is what to do about all our excess staff. We only need a skeleton crew, especially if we’re leaving all research matters behind and starting fresh chapters in our lives as adventurers. The problem is that our researchers possess so many of our closest secrets, and Psionic Oathbinding at Rank 3 or no, I fear a determined enough recruiter with deep enough pockets could ferret free dark secrets that should never again see the light of day.”
John frowned. “We’re not killing them,” he said.
Mitch nodded matter-of-factly. “I know. You would never allow it, and I don’t blame you. So, let’s find some way of gainfully employing them so they at least make profit sufficient to cover their own upkeep.”
John frowned at those words. “Wait, Mitch, are you saying that if I didn’t give a fuck...”
“John, get out now!”
John frowned, rubbing his head.
Mitch quirked a bemused brow. “You okay there, bro?”
John nodded. “Yeah, yeah I am.”
“Good. I think you’ll like what comes next.”
They quickly approached what looked like an old fashioned salon or gymnasium, somewhat like the renaissance styled building they had once practiced saber fencing at. “Our friends are inside. Let’s kit you up and impress the hell out of them.”
John blinked, heart lurching as he finally registered the obvious. “Shit, my gear!”
“All waiting for you, clean and polished. And how the hell did you actually manage to blunt the back point of your Kriegsmesser? That spiked clipback should be tearing through helmets and skulls without a fucking scratch!”
John had the grace to wince. “Yeah, it’s the sweetest blade I’ve ever used. But it didn’t do shit against an Elementium shield, and Rojan was way too fast with his Ego Whip for me to Bloodlink my blade.”
Mitch gave a thoughtful nod. “I take it that’s the blow that cracked his skull and gave him the massive concussion.” He sighed reflectively. “Too bad the doctor wasn’t delayed a minute longer. It would have been amusing, keeping that bastard around as a brain-damaged husk drooling in terror at the sight of us. As it stands? He’ll probably make a full recovery.”
John smirked. “I can tell no love is lost between you two.”
“He tried to have us all killed, lest you forget.” Mitch’s voice had turned ice-cold, as was the glare he sent John’s way, before abruptly laughing, waving his hand as if it was of no concern at all. “But you won back our ancestral lands by right of challenge, and precedence assures that no court would dare to dispute our claim, even if the rest of Father’s assets are still up for grabs. As far as I’m concerned, all is right with the world once more.”
He gave a theatrical flourish after opening the inside door to the gymnasium locker room, as posh and well-kept as that of any professional sports team, each locker faced with burnished hardwood, and actual servants manning the baths, lockers, steam room, and massage tables.
“And of course, our masseuse is an exceedingly attractive woman who would be more than happy to take care of all your physical needs, no matter what sore muscle needs massaging.”
He chuckled at John’s nonplussed expression. “But never mind that. You can meet her and the other girls later. Boys too, if you want them, but you never seemed the type. And there, brother, are your armaments.”
With a flourish, Mitch showcased John’s gear, even then being given a final once over by a diminutive man with an unusually large nose and a shock of white hair. He puttered about with verve and drive, for all that he seemed older, and shorter, than anyone else John had seen in his short time on Jordia.
“It’s the gnomish blood,” Mitch theatrically whispered. “The throwbacks don’t respond as well to rejuvenations as proper full-blooded humans, and most of them won’t even use the things, convinced it will wither their connections to the elements, or some such rot. But goodness knows Mr. Gills is a wonder with all things arcane, so we permit him his eccentricities.”
Gills was presently whispering odd words that sent tingles down John’s spine, eyes widening as he sensed the curious flow of energies that could only be magic emanating from the man’s hand as he caressed the tip of John’s hybrid greatsword.
Magesight in effect! Arcane Perception in effect! You see what’s before you!
“You’re using earth magic. I can feel it!” John said, blinking and stepping back when the gnomish-looking Gills abruptly turned to glare at him, bushy brows and wiry hair making him seem more severe than he had perhaps intended.
“And I take it you’re the idiot who actually managed to damage this pristine masterwork of a blade?”
John winced. “I’m afraid so, sir.”
The man harrumphed. “Well, at least you’re alive, so you must have been doing something right. And you’re attuned enough to your environment that you can actually sense what I’m doing.” He scowled. “Is that Terran blood I sense in your veins?” He gave a curious sniff, eyes widening. “And I sense something else as well!” Alarmed eyes turned to Mitch. “You do know your brother is infected with the blood of Horrors, yes?”
Mitch’s gaze hardened. “You were Father’s left hand man for far too long to play innocent now, Gills. You know better than most what we do here and why it’s so damned important.”
"Well, yes. But using your own brother as a counter to the Plague Queens? Your father actually countenanced such?" He gave a sad shake of his head, lowering his gaze. "A Highlord making monsters of his own offspring, violating the most sacred of all covenants. Now I see why Malus and his ilk were so eager to continue their work on Earth."
Mitch clenched his jaw, fists squeezed tight. "It is only for the kindness you once showed a boy still capable of wonder that I choose to forgive your words. Yes, he is my brother, and he managed to crack Rojan’s skull for the rights to this entire complex! You already know what it means when one Highlord bests another in the crucible of battle.”
Gills paled, immediately falling to one knee. "Victory in battle transcends all else. I was clearly mistaken. Your brother has vindicated his lineage and worth, his right to rule, by the most ancient of all traditions. My words were ill-advised and foolish, the product of an old man's wandering mind. I beg for your forgiveness, Highlords."
Mitch turned to John, eyes filled with concern. “Please don’t strike him dead, brother. He’s been a loyal servant to this House for years, though admittedly he spends most of his time away from the central manor, tending to our villages, so that Seneschal Elgin doesn’t have to. I’m just grateful he was able to escape Rojan’s notice so well. The bastard surely would have killed him just to spite us.”
John gave a surprised shake of his head. “Of course not! Why would I give him a hard time just for smelling the truth?” He then flashed a bemused smile, meeting the gnomi
sh man’s gaze, surprised the man could block his probe so easily. Almost as if…
Gills’ nose twitched a second time, eyes widening with wonder. “Horrors and Faeries both! How did such a bizarre thing come to pass?” The poor man immediately covered his mouth with his hands, eyes wide with fright.
John sighed. “It’s fine. In fact, I want you to call it exactly like you see it, whatever the subject is. No sugar-coating anything just to spare my feelings. Deal?”
“It’s a deal, my lord, and thank you again for your mercy.”
Mitch frowned. “Seriously? Faerie blood? How on Earth did you pull that off?”
John smirked. “Don’t you mean how on Jordia? Anyway, it’s a long story.” He turned to Gills. “I’m a Terran adventurer. Need I say more?”
Gills nodded thoughtfully. “That explains it, I suppose. I halfway think all you Terrans are a Faerie dream given flesh and form, a counter to Dominion taints and incursions.” The man gave a forlorn sigh. “It will be a pity when the gifted folk become no more real than fable and dream, all their magic and wonder lost to us forever more.”
John felt a painful lurch in his gut. “What are you talking about?”
Gills shrugged. “It’s only a matter of time, really. For the first time in centuries, men of power and potency dare to walk the Path of Kings. Do you doubt for even a second that a man like Kentric wouldn't avail himself of all the wealth the Southern Continent provides? We all know he's the High Council's favorite. The seers have already foreseen it, the Dauda as well. But only a fool would miss the signs.
“He will never forgive the Terran who dared to make a fool of him with the aid of powerful magics, and he will do everything he can to destroy Jordia's links to the Great Art, so no wizard can ever oppose him again. Once Kentric claims the throne, he will open this entire continent to strip mining and lumber consortiums from a hundred different worlds, both to fill his coffers and to delight in crushing the countless mage clans that have been a thorn in the High Council’s side for centuries.”
Queen Killer Page 31
