Trial by Fire: A LitRPG Dragonrider Adventure (Archemi Online Chronicles Book 2)

by James Osiris Baldwin

  ***

  Coronations were an involved affair, taking weeks – if not months – to set up IRL. But this was a videogame, and so Taltos had blossomed with decorated canopies and streamers, cheering crowds, festival food, and perhaps an undercurrent of bewilderment that the populace suddenly had a new Volod.

  For the duration of the ceremony, Karalti stood behind the sacred forge in the Church of the Maker, her wings held out behind the new High Forgemaster, Kaled Ferenz, as he crafted the crown Ignas would wear for his term as Volod of Vlachia. The tradition of the land was that every new king wore a crown forged from the materials of the old one. Andrik’s had not been recovered, so the materials were new.

  There was no choir to sing in this church. The only sound was that of the olive-skinned priest expertly banging out and shaping silver and rubies, steel and gold into a coronet. Ignas waited on a wooden throne in front of the dais where Forgemaster Ferenz worked, his long face still and meditative as he waited in his regalia with his eyes closed.

  When the hammer struck metal for the last time, the grand vaulted room fell silent. Ferenz lifted the glowing crown in his tongs, then quenched it for all to see. It frothed and bubbled, and when he pulled it free, a hushed murmur went up around the crowd.

  “Do you accept Ignas Corvinus the Second as your rightful King, to assume the Domain of Vlachia and all of its lands and principalities?” He called out in a loud, clear voice.

  “Agreed, so be it, long live the king!” The crowd screamed back.

  The High Forgemaster went to Ignas. He waited in the throne in front of the forge, heavily robed and holding a scepter and sword. When the Forgemaster placed the crown, I saw his weathered features relax with relief.

  I smiled as the church erupted with cheers, and each one of the attending priests moved forward to give the new Volod their blessing. The High Forgemaster was not the only celebrant here: representatives of Matir, Veela, Solnetsi, Veles and Perun were all here today, priests who had been hidden away during Andrik’s reign. He also received a musical blessing from two Meewfolk - a male and female pair whose outfits resembled those of Japanese shrine maidens - and a gift from a trio of Mercurions. To my pleased surprise, it was Mix and his two spouses. They presented the new Volod with a finely made saddle for a quazi.

  “Nice political move on his part,” I whispered to Suri. “Sure to ruffle a few feathers in court.”

  “Fuck ‘em,” Suri replied. “They’ll deal.”

  Once all of the pomp and ceremony was over with, Ignas rose in his mantle of heavy robes, and held up the sword and scepter.

  “Citizens and guests of Vlachia! These hard years of exile have taught me much,” he said, his voice booming off the high ceilings. “After having my name slandered and smeared, I escaped the country, pursued by assassins hired by my brother. When I returned, I lived among the least of you. I survived only because of the grace and generosity of the poorest people in Vlachia, the fishmongers and tanners and charnel workers. These people - human, Tlaxi’ca, Prrupt’meewn - supported me in ways large and small as I pursued justice for myself and my House. I did things I am not proud of, but which needed to be done... and I am humbled by your re-acceptance of me. I pledge to return all that was given to me in my capacity as your new Volodniy!”

  Cheers went up from the crowd, and I winced as the roar seemed to pierce my eardrums.

  “I guess the motives of the Slayer have to remain secret,” I remarked to Suri, listening as Ignas continued his speech.

  “Politics. It is what it is.”

  “Think they’d be as happy with him if they knew that he was behind Kanzo murdering people and blowing shit up?”

  Suri gave me the side-eye. “You gonna be the one to tell them?”

  “No. I was a soldier in my past life. If there’s one thing it taught me, it’s that sometimes you have to kill, and sometimes good people end up dead. My conscience is happier with a handful of dead people than it would be with an entire nation of oppressed and dead people.” I paused to suck thoughtfully on a tooth. “But you have to admit, our knowledge is a pretty serious point of leverage on Ignas. I think you and I should be keeping an eye out for assassins coming in through the windows.”

  “You think he’d do that?”

  “I think he survived and eventually triumphed by becoming a crime boss.”

  Once the speech was over, Ignas swore in his new Kingsguard selected from the Raven Knights, and then nodded to us as he resumed his throne.

  “Today would not have been possible without the efforts of two rare individuals. Starborn, from foreign lands, they made every effort to bring the Slayer and my brother to justice. Solonkratsu Karalti, Suri Ba’hadir, Dragozin Hector, please come forward.”

  We did. Suri took a knee, as did I. Karalti bowed, but then stood tall.

  “You gave everything you had to a nation that is not your own,” he said. “And as I promised, you will be rewarded. Therefore, I am bestowing each of you with citizenship and a noble title - the peerage of Count and Countess - along with your material reward.”

  I nearly choked on my tongue. So did Suri. A noble title? What did that mean for us?

  “Do you accept?” He asked.

  Suri bowed from the neck. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “What do you think, girl?” I asked Karalti.

  “I’m already a queen,” she replied. “I can be a Countess, too.”

  I cleared my throat, and dipped my head. “I answer for both Karalti and myself. We accept, Your Majesty.”

  Ignas touched us on the shoulders with his sword, and two pages came forward with coronets and long cloaks, laying them over our shoulders.

  [Congratulations! You have earned a noble title: Count (Honorary). +1500 fame in Vlachia! Read the Count/Countess article for more information.]

  [New Archemipedia entry: Counts/Countesses in Vlachia.]

  “Rise, Count and Countess Dragozin, Countess Ba’hadir.” Ignas stepped forward and bowed from the waist to Karalti. He embraced Suri, whispering to her while the crowd behind us cheered and gossiped. My hackles were starting to rise by the time he came to me.

  “The courtesy position of Count comes with an opportunity, which we will discuss later.” Ignas spoke quietly by my ear as he clapped me on the back.

  “Where are Rin and Ebisa?” I asked.

  “Big events like this are not suited to Ebisa’s temperament. That, and she decided to make use of her father’s knowledge and repair your spear.” The Volod stood back, hands gripping my arms. “I already offered her and Rin a peerage... they refused.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.” I smiled back.

  “Indeed.” The Volod inclined his head to me. “Now, do take a seat. Once all this nonsense is over with, we’ll meet in the Writing Room back at the Keep. I’ve learned something I think you will be very interested to know.”

  Chapter 47

  The Writing Room turned out to be the private parlor with the secret door, the same room where Andrik had asked me to kill his brother. Suri and I arrived to find Ignas examining the fireplace, running his fingers over the edge of the marble. He had shed his coronation finery in favor of the soft, dark leathers he’d been wearing when we met him at the Nightstalkers arena. Ebisa and Rin were waiting with him, sitting on a small sofa together with their arms touching. They had a long bundle resting across their laps.

  The Spear of Nine Spheres emitted a silent energetic pulse as I entered the room, lifting the hairs on my arm. Ebisa stood as the door closed behind me. She was dressed for crafting, in a tight leather tunic and heavy leather gloves, apron, and boots.

  “Do you wish to speak first, or should I give him the spear?” She asked Ignas.

  “Go. Give it to him.” Ignas turned to face me. “And take this. Catch.”

  He threw something at me. I caught it in both hands, and looked down to see the [Ravensblood Ruby].

  “The Spear has some odd relationship with this stone, but only when y
ou are holding it,” he remarked. “I’m curious to see what happens now that the weapon is fixed. Perhaps you will be able to solve the mystery of the memories it stores.”

  “The memories it stores?” I watched as Ebisa untied the fabric, buzzing with anticipation.

  “They seem to be from something that was not human,” Andrik replied. “The contents of the stone mystified and captivated my ancestors, but they ever only saw glimpses of what the stone contains. You have insight into the draconic psyche that we do not. I will give you the command words and show you, once we see what happens with the Spear.”

  Ebisa unveiled the weapon, and both Suri and I gasped at the sight of it. The cracked, battered, tarnished polearm was now a glorious curve of polished blue steel. The long blade had been restored to a mirror finish, and the metal crawled with hairline seams of magical energy. They moved in orderly patterns through the looping Damascus-style finish, sweeping up like motes of dust from wherever Ebisa’s hands made contact. She had bound tightly woven knotwork around the haft for grip, and had attached a long braided cord just under the blade. She’d even repaired the shallow divots that studded the weapon: four at the base, four just beneath the head of the spear, and one on the blade itself.

  Swallowing, I reached out to take it.

  The Spear of Nine Spheres

  Soul-Bound Weapon

  Slot: Two-Handed

  Item Class: Relic

  Item Quality: Mastercrafted

  Damage: 110-121 Slashing or Piercing

  Durability: 100%

  Weight: 1lb

  Special: +4 Dexterity, Soul-bound, +150 HP, +15% evasion

  Dancing black energy cracked over my hand as I clasped my fist around the elegant haft, but I struggled to disguise my disappointment when I saw its stats. It wasn’t all bad, because this Spear was lighter than almost any other polearm I could buy. Its bonuses had improved, too - double dex, triple the HP bonus, and it had swapped two Def points for 15% evasion, which was nice... but it did less damage than the Alpha Rod, a Common grade weapon I’d bought at the local smithy.

  “Wow,” I said. “This is... it’s gorgeous.”

  “Isn’t it?” Rin said. “Ebisa did such a good job.”

  “I did what I could. Had to try not to think about it too much,” Ebisa muttered. “Rin helped.”

  “Bring the stone near it.” Ignas watched on with bated excitement.

  I drew a deep breath, and then bought the stone in close to the weapon. As I did, the color of the weapon’s mana changed, shifting from bright blue to red. The Ravensblood Ruby was a living heart in my hand, and as I stared at it, the sound of its beating swallowed up the room around me.

  Reality inverted. Suddenly, I was flying.

  A funeral procession trailed through the desert below me: a weeping, wailing parade plowing through a sandstorm. Triceratops hauled a massive stone sarcophagus toward high rose-colored cliffs. The face of the cliffs was carved out with columns and huge doorways. Dragons waited there for us, their heads bowed.

  I turned, and through the scarlet fog, I saw the silhouette of a titanic humanoid figure striding behind the procession. It was a giant larger than the largest dragon, awe-inspiring to the Solonkratsu who had recorded his memories on this store. Was it... one of the Gods?

  The recorder turned away, focusing back on the cave palace. It swung dizzily in all directions as the dragon landed and turned back to face the procession. As it watched the bleak scene, the titan came closer and closer... until I glimpsed it, looming out from the whipping clouds of sand. It was a machine. Almost like a mecha, sort of, except that this 100-foot tall construct moved like a ghost. There was only there for a moment, a silhouette that vanished as the recording dragon closed his eyes, and the scene went blank.

  I opened my eyes, back in the present, and found everyone staring at me - and the Spear. My hands were white-knuckled around the shaft. The Ravensblood Ruby was floating over it, and as I watched, it descended, and neatly fit itself into one of the divots beneath the blade. Slowly, the glow faded... but the light that crawled through the Spear remained red.

  “This is... the... Ruby of Boundless Strength.” The words pulled themselves from my throat, unbidden. “The key to the Ruby Dragon Gate. The tomb of Khors and... and... damn, what did I just see?”

  Ignas had turned pale. “You saw the memories on it?”

  “Yes.” I looked down at the Spear again, and on impulse, I called up its description. “Oh wow.”

  The Spear of Boundless Strength

  Soul-Bound Fire Elemental Weapon

  Slot: Two-Handed

  Item Class: Relic

  Item Quality: Mastercrafted

  Damage: 160-185 Slashing or Piercing

  Durability: 100%

  Weight: 1lb

  Special: Soul-bound, +50 bonus fire damage, +300 HP, +10 Strength, +%15 Evasion.

  Special: Maker’s Blessing - Learn Crafting skills 5% faster.

  “Interesting,” Ebisa remarked. “It changed the properties of the weapon.”

  Ignas frowned. “Can it be removed?”

  I used my finger to pry around the edges of the ruby, but it was firmly rooted. “Uhh… I don’t think so.”

  Ignas sighed. “Well, I hate to part with another heirloom given that Andrik lost us the Scorched Armor of Lawislaw the Burned, but it seems the choice has been made for me. Such is the way of things. What do you make of the memory?”

  “It was a funeral. Maybe of Khors himself,” I said. “There was a huge machine… an enormous construct.”

  Ebisa and Rin looked at one another.

  “Can you describe it?” Rin asked.

  I shrugged. “A hundred feet tall… humanoid. Kind of angular… reminded me a bit of a praying mantis.”

  Ebisa drew a startled breath. “Ima’sancatul.”

  “A Warsinger,” Rin translated. She sounded awed.

  “A what?” Suri asked.

  “They are a myth,” Ebisa said. “Great artifacts built in a time when the Aesari and the Solonkratsu lived together, before the Aesari enslaved the dragons and they became enemies. The Warsingers are the Artifacts that were made to fight the Drachan. There were…” she thought for a moment. “Kanzo has recorded that there were twelve known Warsingers.”

  “Do you know of any places in the desert with a high cliffside tomb or castle or something?” I asked them, looking to Suri. “That’s where they were taking this thing.”

  She shook her head. So did Ignas.

  “No.” Ignas shook his head. “We have been trying to find that place ever since this ruby was first read by my House’s founder. Wherever that place was, it has been swallowed by the Ati Krura Desert millenia ago. This was made during a time when the dragons had cities in what is now known as the Shalid. It’s over 5000 years old.”

  I hefted the spear. “Well, maybe this spear will talk to me some more now. But speaking of land, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

  “Ah. Well, first, let me show you something.” Ignas motioned to us all. “Follow me.”

  He went to the wall, fiddled behind a painting, and depressed a button that slid open a section of wall. We trailed after him through a narrow stone hallway, plunging into the heart of Vulkan Keep. Some ten minutes later, Ignas drew up in front of another recess and opened a similar concealed door.

  “This is the Bedchamber of the Serene Highness,” he explained, as we filtered in behind him. The splendid room beyond was furnished with dark wood, scarlet silk and velvet, gold and silver. “The Princes’ quarters - not the King’s Suite. Andrik kept his old rooms when he became Volod, in defiance of tradition. I would like to show you why.”

  He stalked through the bedroom, past the orgy-pit-sized bed, and into a smaller room. Turning on the light in there revealed rows of wardrobes. Ignas confidently went to one of the doors, slid it open, and pushed the collection of fine clothing aside. There was a cleverly hidden hatch door back there.

  “This is a
last resort,” Ignas said. “A bolthole for the prince and others to hide if the castle was ever to be stormed. The lock can only be opened by the still-warm blood of a Corvinus scion. The blood must be fresh, so no man can just cut my throat and scrape the blood off his blade onto the sigil. Andrik and I used to play in these rooms. Rin, can you please conjure a light?”

  “Sure. Ori, El, Phaz!” She concentrated, and a globe of white-blue light flared in the palm of her hand, lighting up the inside of the wardrobe.

  We watched Ignas prick his finger, then trace a symbol behind the swinging robes and cloaks. There was a click, and he pushed the vault door into the panic room.

  There was something wrong about it. A haunted, ghostly sensation swept out over me as I followed Ignas in. Suri came in afterward, shivering in her dress, with Rin and Ebisa piling in afterward. The room was about the size of a small study, eight by nine feet or so. A shrine had been set up with two tall tables flanking an altar that was a black rectangle of... nothing. Mounted above the featureless, angular block was the forked Y-symbol of the Ryuko Corporation.

  “Do you feel that?” Ignas said quietly. “The... unhallow feeling of this place?”

  “Sure do.” Suri grimaced. “This place reeks of bad magic.”

  “He sacrificed things in here.” Ignas pointed at bloodstains etched on the stones. “We found this symbol in his laboratory as well. This is the one I almost remembered seeing... but I could not summon the image to mind.”

  “The Cult of the Architect,” Rin murmured.

  I walked over to one of the tables. There was a black leather-bound book there. I added it to my inventory. It was [Andrik’s Journal]. I had the HUD read it to me, starting from the most recent entries.

  “Today I reported to the High Priestess that the murder situation had escalated and that the Tuun and dragon had made an appearance. I was told that the appearance of the Queen hatchling was a matter of great urgency for the Master,” it read. “She urged me to keep up the ruse of hospitality while she sent faith militant to seize the creature before it grows more. She ordered I do everything to facilitate the rescue operation. The Architect is about to consolidate his rightful place as Ilia’s ruler.”