by Eric Ugland
I blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with what exactly it was that I'd just read. They were mine until the end of time? It was hard to wrap my head around it, and the whole thing really just felt a bit messed up.
And yet, when I came back to myself, the three of them were smiling. They were happy. Like, really happy. They looked like they were about to start high-fiving each other. If, you know, high-fiving was a thing that happened here.
Troels walked over to me and extended his hand out.
I did the same. He pressed a metal ring into my palm, and when he released my grip, I saw something that looked like a bull ring.
Troels nodded towards the big minotaur in front of me.
Perplexed, but still playing along, I held the ring out to the bull man.
A big smile spread across his big face, and he gently took the ring from me. He showed it to the other two, and then lifted it to his nose. He closed his eyes, pushed the ring into his nostrils, and it just sort of popped into place in his septum. There was a flash of red light, and the ring got darker, the silvery sheen of the metal disappearing.
"Thank you," the minotaur said, his voice low, almost like a purr. "I am honored."
Then, to make things even more awkward, he bowed. To me. So low that I could see the top of his head. Which, you know, when we’re talking about someone who could probably stand and dunk at the same time, was a low bow.
Troels clapped his hands.
"I love this ceremony," he said, tucking his little notebook into his pocket. "It is very much like watching a family come together for the first time. And while I hate to bring something together just to shove it out the door, it seems like that will have to be the case."
He put his arm around me and steered me out of the room. He didn't even bother to say anything to the three people behind us, just assuming they would follow. Which, kind of obviously, they did.
"Unless," Troels said softly, speaking just to me, "you've had a change of heart. You could still come with us."
"To Carchedon?" I asked.
"Of course."
"So you're leaving."
"Sadly true. Just found out. My brother has a temper, and someone said something in the halls of the palace alluding to his lack of military prowess. So naturally—“
"Invasion."
"Yes. Right on the nose. Since my dear brother does care for me in some nebulous way, he wants me out of Glaton before everything gets hectic and vengeful. He worries that the lack of an emperor would leave me vulnerable to danger. So, we leave. And you may come with us. You are technically part of the family."
"I am?"
"Not in a legal sort of a way, but I consider you such. Just, you know, ignore my brother. He'll deny it. And deny you. After all, he wanted to have you killed so as not sully the family name by having a blood debt to some commoner in Glaton, that sort of a thing."
"Oh."
He gave me a big smile, like we were just having a locker room chat.
Troels continued to chat as he walked me through the embassy, just blabbing away about everything that came to his mind. It was stream of consciousness drivel, modified ever so slightly to occasionally contain something pertinent. Listening to him was an exercise in both patience and persistence. But before I knew it, he was shoving me out the front door.
Then he paused before shutting the door. "Unless you’d like to come with us," he said.
“I’d love to, but I've got too many things to wrap up here."
"Pity. Perhaps later."
Then Troels Westergaard, Lord High Crown Prince of Carchedon, slammed the door.
I started walking home, trying to come to grips with the three strangers who were now tied to me for eternity. I didn't actually talk to any of them until we'd made it to the central point of the city, where the two big avenues meet. There, I paused.
"Just, uh," I said, looking at my three tjener, "are you, I mean, I'm a bit confused by this whole process."
The minotaur smiled.
The woman tilted her head a bit.
The mustachioed man grinned, then shook his head.
“As a citizen of the Empire, it is natural the concept of the tjene is foreign to you," he replied, his mustache bouncing up and down a little as he spoke. He was a shorter guy, and his salt and pepper hair was trimmed short. “But, you can think of it as a hirð, with a bit of a twist.”
“Let’s pretend I haven’t heard of a hirð, what is it?”
“In the Empire, a hirð is formed when people voluntarily swear to join with another, and to support that person. They swear their lives to that person, and the leader of the hirð is able to make demands of the hirð. They serve him and such. They share in XP and are a bit like a permanent party. Should they choose to leave the hirð, they lose all XP they gained within it.”
“So a Tjene is just the Carchedonian version?”
“It is a part of the Carchedon culture, yes, but there are some specific differences. We cannot leave the Tjene. We serve it for life, and beyond.”
“And beyond? Does that mean—“
“It means, whatever exists past this life, we will be there with you. Like the hirð, those within a Tjene gain XP together. However, you will be responsible for dictating what Choices are made, how points are allocated, and aspects of how we build ourselves. Members of a hirð, as far as I know, have a more independent growth from their leader.”
"And you're okay with all of that?”
"We are honored by it," the man said.
"Okay. I guess that's something that we should, uh, maybe, unpack later?"
"However you feel it should be, my liege."
I shook my head. "Let's, uh, really. We shouldn't, uh, let's not have that going on. It makes me feel a bit uncomfortable."
"Your title shall be whatever you wish it."
This wasn't going to get anywhere with them right now. I watched a section of the guard watch me, and, I suppose, my friends, standing there in the night, the lone solace being that it wasn't raining. Looking at the soldiers registered something in my mind, and I shook my head, not wanting to do what it was I clearly needed to do at the moment: go back to Valamir.
I wasn't keen on the idea, partially because it was all the way back up where we'd just come from, but also because I wasn't exactly sure how I'd go about getting in the building. I was still refilling my mana pool, and I'd been hopping in and out of the shadow realm an awful lot, so I wasn't keen on going back into it. And I had three weirdos following me, trying to call me lord. Or liege. Or whatever.
"Where are we going?" the woman asked.
"Uh, north," I said.
She nodded. That seemed to be enough for her.
"Okay then," I said.
And we were back to walking in awkward silence.
"What are your names again?" I asked.
"I am Mornax,” the minotaur said in his deep bass rumble.
I snapped fingers, remembering what the notification said. “Mornax the Destroyer. Why the, uh, title? What did you destroy?”
“All my opponents.”
“Of course. Fair enough.”
He grunted.
“Klara Therkel,” the woman said. “At your service.”
Her voice made me think she was tough. She sounded angry and ready to kick my ass for bothering her with something as silly as her name. But I had seen her smile. She was more like the cross-fit instructor who everyone thought might be on steroids, but was definitely too afraid to ever say anything along those lines.
“Which leaves—“ I started, but the man piped up before I could finish.
“Nox Kvist,” he said.
“Strength, spirit, and intellect, at least according to the prince,” I said. “Is that, I mean, is this a thing that happens?”
“Do you wish me to instruct you on the intricacies of Carchedonian culture?” Nox asked.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I don’t think now is the best time for that.”
; He shrugged. “My time is yours.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Why should it?”
“Don’t you want to be free?”
“I have traded my freedom to serve you.”
“But you know nothing about me.“
“It affords many great things to those who might not have a life otherwise.”
“So you’re trading your life for someone else's?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“As I have answered before, why should it? I entered into this relationship voluntarily, knowing full well what it would entail. I am happy to have a purpose in life, and a goal.”
“But it’s not your goal. It’s mine.”
“By virtue of being of your tjener, your goals are mine.”
“Yeah. Well, I suppose that makes sense,” I lied. “How about we table this discussion for another day?”
He just nodded, already having internalized my desire to not be called liege or lord.
We resumed our silent march, and I swore I was going to buy a damn carriage. All this walking was getting ridiculous.
Cool Beans! You’ve leveled up the skill Walking. Soon, you may be able to chew gum and walk at the same time. What a time to be alive.
Some times I hated this stupid game.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Valamir’s estate was, in essence the same as when I had left it. Actually, more to the point, it was like how it had been when I had arrived, and before my hurried exit. A quick walk around the outside of the property, and I found the spot where I’d climbed over the wall. Going over there was my best shot at getting to Valamir quickly, and avoiding as many of his guards as possible.
“Are we to make an assault?” Mornax asked.
“No,” I said.
He legitimately looked disappointed.
“In fact,” I continued, “unless any of you are incredibly stealthy, you should be staying here.”
“I can’t let you go in there by yourself,” Mornax said. “You might be injured. Or captured. Or die.”
“Relax, bub. I’ve done this once already tonight. If you want to help, give me a boost over the wall.”
He put his fingers together and leaned his back against the wall. I put my foot in his hands, and then pushed. He didn’t exactly give me a boost so much as throw me over.
I thumped into the wet muddy grass on the other side with a surprisingly loud squelch.
A muffled ‘sorry’ rumbled from the other side of the wall.
I pushed myself out of the mud, and wiped what I could out of my eyes. It was almost shocking how much mud fell back to the ground. Then, I crouch-walked slowly to the side of the building. I looked look up, scanning until I saw the broken window. Then I climbed up the side of the building, and attempted to roll through the window.
What I actually did was roll myself right into a hunk of wood that had been nailed in place to keep the cold out.
There was a dull thunk when my head smacked into the wood. Not my best moment as a thief.
I almost fell off the building, really only holding on by sheer luck. My grip held tight to the sill, for some reason, while the rest of me fell right over.
I hung there for a moment, realizing another stupid error I’d made. I had left muddy streaks from the ground all the way up the side of the building. As soon as the guards noticed them, it was going to be a more active in-and-out job. With my wits back to me, I balanced on the carved outstretched hands of something that looked a bit like a cherub, and got on with my gig.
The window next to me was locked, but it was a simple one, being on the second floor. All it took was a little work with a slim dagger for it to flip over. I pushed the window up, and this time, I actually rolled into Valamir’s office.
Valamir was not in residence. The fire was out, so I imagined he’d gone to bed. I was willing to bet his bedroom was attached to the office in some way, though. It seemed like Valamir was the kind of man to do too much work.
I walked over to the bookshelf, and upon looking at it this time, I saw clearly where the door was. It wasn’t even a secret door — it was more like a door that had been given a second purpose in life. I lifted the latch and edged it open with my toe.
The huge room I was expecting on the other side of the door wasn’t there. It was more the equivalent to a walk-in closet. Like a dressing room. There were clothes of various kinds hung up all around. There was a semi-open armoire, and I could see metal inside. So it was an armor armoire. It probably had some weapons in it as well, but that just didn’t sound quite as nice.
There was a single door on the opposite wall, and it was through there that I found the bedroom.
As befitting royalty, I suppose, it was a massive bedchamber. Positively hugemongous. A fireplace took up almost an entire wall, and a big fire crackled away in it. A large four-post bed was along the opposite wall, and a sitting area was arranged in front of the fire. All the curtains were drawn on the bed, but the deafening snore gave me a pretty good idea the bed was occupied.
I tiptoed across the room and peeked through the curtains.
Valamir was sprawled across the bed, snoring. He looked very much like he was still drunk.
“Valamir,” I whispered.
He grunted, and rolled away from me.
“Wake up,” I whispered again.
He waved me away.
I’m not proud of this, but I leaned over the bed, and slapped him.
Not that hard.
Just enough to make a bit of a noise.
His eyes opened at once, and he fumbled around in his bed until he pulled out a small baggie from under his pillow. He shoved his hand inside and came out with a glowstone, which he held up.
“There has got to be a more efficient means of that,” I said.
“Thief,” he replied, remarkably confused. “Are you returned? Or, did you never leave? Why are you so dirty?”
“Let’s focus on the pertinent questions. Or, rather, the things I think are important. Namely, Carchedon is going to launch an attack on Glaton soon.”
He rubbed his eyes and sat up.
“Where did you get this intelligence?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Why should I believe anything you tell me?”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to tell you — I just said you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Have I not trusted you so far?”
“I’m not sure we’ve had enough of a relationship to inspire trust either way. You just asked me to spy on your niece.”
“And I did not send my guards after you. Nor the City Guard. Nor the Legion. All of which I could do.”
“I mean, you’ve got me there. So, the thing is, I saved the life of someone pretty high up in the royal family of Carchedon. Which meant he owed me, I guess, a blood debt. And he wanted to settle up with me tonight, because he’s leaving like, right now. And he told me—“
“That Carchedon is due to strike Glaton.”
“Yes.”
He threw off the covers. While his top half was naked, his bottom half was covered by shiny silk trousers. He pushed himself out of bed, grabbed a robe off one of his chairs, pulled it on, and tied a quick knot around the front.
“Someone high up in the royal family able to speak to you here means a singular individual. I would prefer you had let Troels Westergaard die—”
“He was there the night you met with Tollendahl. That’s where—”
“Immaterial at present, though I appreciate the trust you show me by mentioning it. Another time, I would like to speak more about that evening. Tonight, well, if the ambassador has actually abandoned the embassy,” Valamir said, all business, “then we will know this attack is going to happen.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t necessarily believe he told you the truth,” Valamir said, walking into his ‘closet’
, “regardless of what you believe.”
“Oh. I guess I could see that.”
“And you ought to vacate the premises,” Valamir said. “I must go to the Legion headquarters now — I fear I need to speak with someone about my security.”
“It’s pretty appalling,” I said.
‘“You’re telling me.”
He almost smiled.
"Thief," he said, "perhaps we might need to put together a means of chatting in the future."
"I mean, you could just leave the gaping holes in your security," I replied.
I ran back through the closet, into the office, and jumped out the window.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The ‘run and jump out the window’ maneuver was definitely a cool move. I did it because I thought Valamir might see it and then be impressed, but landing that is always a big challenge. And in this particular case, I did not rise to that challenge.
I should really just leave running and jumping out of windows to action movies.
I slammed into the ground, sliding across the grass and mud. It hurt a fair amount. But after a quick check of my limbs, I confirmed everything was in working order. Mostly. I limped a bit while I powered my self-healing spell, but by the time I got to the wall, I was feeling mostly okay. Exhausted, for sure. It was a long day, both in terms of the time I last slept, and also in terms of physical exertion. Healing myself more than once in a day took a lot out of me. As did fighting, and casting magic. At the wall, I stopped and looked around one more time, making sure there weren't guards making their rounds about to see me climb out.
I also maybe stopped and rested a moment. Or two. Then I climbed out.
My three people were waiting for me. None of them gave me the nasty look I probably would have given someone so completely covered in mud.
"We need to work on your boosting," I said, patting Mornax on the shoulder. Which basically felt like patting a rock.
