The Fell War - Chapter 27 (Patreon)

It took many, many weeks to brew all the potions necessary. During that time, Alfre found herself inundated with things to do, most of them involving the reconstruction of the city. She found herself in charge of a large number of former architects, all of them vying for the chance to redesign the city, or, in some cases, design the new temple to Orli. Alfre sent each and every bid to Hadi and the others, unsure as to why anyone thought a random guild master from Spade had anyway in what happened to the city of Heart.

“It’s because they’ve come to see you as the leader,” Spica explained, looking amused that Alfre hadn’t realized this already. “You led the charge, darling, of course they’d look to you to guide them farther.”

“But that doesn’t mean I have any say in what happens in Heart. It’s not my city.”

“They’ve been asking Ren, as well,” Spica said, as if that made things any better. “They don’t care what city you’re from, Alfre, they care that you’re the strong leader they were missing.”

“I don’t want to be the strong leader they were missing,” Alfre grumbled, letting her head fall back against the back of the couch she was sitting on. “I just want to go back to Siniy and escape into the woods.”

Spica eyed her contemplatively. “And what about the guild?”

Alfre sat up straighter, catching Spica’s gaze just before the vampire turned her attention back to whatever book she’d stolen from Hadi’s library. Spica didn’t generally wear her emotions on her sleeve, but Alfre had learned to read her well enough to know when she was concerned about something.

“I’m not saying I’d disband the guild,” Alfre assured her gently. “I just…I don’t really know how to explain it. I love the guildhall – its fireplace and the kitchen and the rooftop garden. I don’t want to abandon it or anything. But I want…I want to go back to that little cabin. I want to fix it up; you know…thank it for giving me shelter all those nights ago. I want to find a place where I can be content to sit in front of a fire by myself and think about things. A place to escape to when nothing’s really going on in the city. I still want to be a part of the guild. I still want to go on adventures with you and Elias and, hell, maybe even Traveler if she does come back with us. But I also want a place to just be. You know what I mean?”

Spica sighed, and smiled at her. “The sad thing is, I do. I totally understand what you mean. Living together is fun and all, but if I had the choice, I’d also want to run away with Elias and live on our own somewhere with two cats and a dog and just be. I think war does that to you. It makes you want to escape to somewhere where nothing is required of you.”

“Maybe we can find a spot to build the two of you a cabin as well,” Alfre offered. “A little cottage out in the Wilds for you and whatever pets you manage to find that resemble normal cats and dogs. Leave the guildhall to Traveler.”

“She’d go insane having that huge place all to herself and you know it,” Spica argued playfully.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Alfre agreed with a small laugh.

“I like the guildhall too much to just leave it, anyway,” Spica admitted, twirling a few strands of hair around her finger. “I’d get lonely out in the Wilds, even if Elias was with me. I need to be in the city. We can just collect our pets in the guildhall.”

Alfre simply smiled. “I suppose you could. As long as the dogs don’t mistake Elias for a real rabbit.”

Spica’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Now you know that would be terribly funny.”

“Or just terrible, if you asked Elias.”

“Must you ruin my fun?”

“Only because I love you.”

“So, uh…how are we going to do this?” June asked, peering into the crates upon crates of potion bottles Silver and his alchemist compatriots had brought to the cathedral. “We can’t exactly force them to drink it…can we? Is that a thing we can do?”

“Physically? Yeah, technically,” Atticus said with a shrug. “But the thought makes me very uncomfortable.”

“If you give me another few days, I can make them into splash potions,” Silver offered. “I probably should have thought about that before hand.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Alfre thought aloud. “Either they drink the potion, or they stay in the cathedral forever. That’s basically their two choices. We’ve been bringing them food, correct?”

Briar Fox nodded, looking displeased. “Not that they’ve been grateful for it.”

“If we stop bringing them food, they’ll have to rely on whatever food they have in their inventory. Eventually that will run out. We all know someone can’t be killed, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they can’t die.”

“What do you mean?” Hunter asked, arms crossed as they always were.

“A Fell cannot be killed for real by a monster, another player, or by a Wonderlander,” Alfre explained, ticking off the list on her fingers. “But we have no proof that they won’t die by more natural causes like starvation, dehydration, or whatever. Unless someone else has done an experiment.”

None of the guild masters from Clover, Heart, or Diamond said anything.

“Which I guess means they’re not sure either,” she continued, gesturing towards the cathedral. “The threat of legitimately dying is probably enough to scare them into taking the potion.”

“And if push comes to shove, I could always try to incorporate the potion into a rain storm spell,” Selphie offered. “It requires a nearby source of liquid. Normally that means water, but I bet I could make it rain potion in the cathedral if necessary. We’d just have to make sure we don’t get hit by any.”

“We’ll try the threat of death first,” Ren decided. “If they don’t take it, we’ll make it rain. Sound fair.”

“As fair as it’s going to get,” Hadi agreed with a sigh.

They entered the cathedral, Izo moving the roots of the druid tree to allow them to enter.

Summer looked up from where she sat on the altar, golden eyes wild and no less furious than they had been when Alfre shattered her. Upon seeing Alfre, she leapt from her seat, screaming furiously and catching the attention of the rest of the captives.

“YOU!” she screeched, marching towards Alfre, hands scrabbling at her side for a katana that wasn’t there. Her eyes flew to Spica, who’d long since strapped Summer’s katana to her back. Sea blue met molten gold, Summer’s eyes widening even further as her fury mounted.

“How dare you!” she seethed. “Give me back my sword you hussy!”

Spica did not smirk. She did not frown. Nor did she smile. Her facial expression remained almost disturbingly neutral. “No.”

Summer reached out to snatch at Spica’s collar, only to have her hand smacked away by Elias’ cane. “Don’t touch her. You have no power here. And no weapons. Give up, and maybe we’ll be kind about our offer.”

“Offer?” Summer echoed, interest piqued even as she stared them down like a wild animal backed into a corner.

“Your punishment has been decided,” Alfre told her, hand coming up to rest on the hilt of the Vorpal Blade. “We have a few hundred bottles of leveling down potions. You are each to drink one. Upon that time, you will be released from the cathedral and allowed to spend the rest of your sentence helping to rebuild the city you destroyed. After that, I don’t really care what you do.”

Summer scowled, eyes narrowing to glare at the guild masters. “And if we don’t take your stupid potion?”

“Then you will remain in this cathedral,” Alfre explained plainly. “And the meals we have been providing you with will stop. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure that starvation still does the same thing here as it does in the old world.”

Summer’s eyes widened once more, her fear and shock obvious. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Alfre smirked. “Try me.”

Summer took a step back, trying to find her balance. She found it quickly, spitting at Alfre’s feet before turning around to stomp back towards the altar. “Take your potions and stick them up your ass. You won’t get me to drink them. And you don’t have the balls to starve us.”

Alfre turned to the other Fell gathered about the cathedral. “Does she speak for all of you?”

Kilrakas, the dragonling Traveler killed in Rubino, stood from where he’d been sitting against a pillar. He looked tired. Most of the Fell the crowded around the floor did. “Nah, she don’t speak for me.”

Summer whipped around, hair slapping her in the face and killing whatever intimidation she’d had. “Kilrakas, you traitor!”

“Look, Summer,” Kilrakas sighed heavily, rubbing at the bronze scales of his neck. “I liked the idea of having a continent just for us for a while, but if I have to keep fighting these guys, it just isn’t worth it. And I really don’t want to sit in here starving just to make you happy.” He strode up to Traveler, holding out a hand. “Give me a potion.”

Traveler carefully pulled a glass bottle from the crates and handed it over, her eyes never leaving the silvery-green liquid as it sloshed about in the glass. Kilrakas popped the cork, the smell of mint filling the air, and downed the potion. Alfre pulled out her little leather book, watching as Kilrakas’ stats fell, slowly and then all at once, until they reached level one status.

Kilrakas wiped his chin, handing back the bottle. “There someone out there I should talk to about the whole rebuilding thing?”

Einmora stepped forward, “Come with me, I’ll get you on the right track.” She looked to Alfre and the others. “I’ll stay out in the plaza and point the lambs in the right direction as you send them out.”

“Thank you,” Alfre said, nodding to Einmora.

The dwarven woman led Kilrakas out into the sunlight, the taller man shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Anyone else want to do this the easy way?” Ren called into the room.

The elven sorcerer that had been with Kilrakas in Rubino stepped forward to take a potion. He downed it and followed his friend outside. One by one, then four by four, until there was a sea of players coming forth to take a potion. Several lines formed, each of them taking a potion from one guild master or their lieutenants. Alfre found herself handing a potion over to the knight she’d killed in the final battle, who looked deeply ashamed. As he should, Alfre decided.

Eventually, only Summer and a small handful of her guild mates remained, apparently her most ardent supporters.

“So, you’re going to sit here and starve?” Alfre demanded as the last of those who took the potions slipped through the door.

“You don’t have the balls to leave us to starve,” Summer accused.

Alfre just shrugged. “See for yourself.” She turned to her friends. “Let’s go.”

“What about the rain spell?” Selphie asked quietly.

“We’ll do that after a few days,” Alfre said. “Let them have a taste of how serious we are before we do anything.”

“That’s a bit cruel, don’t you think?” Hunter muttered.

“Nothing compared to what they did to the people here in Heart,” Alfre stated, her voice full of conviction.

Hunter shrugged. “Alright, that’s fair.”

Alfre and Selphie waited three days before they did anything. They strode into the cathedral, three bottles of potion between them. Summer’s gaze snapped towards them as the door slammed shut behind them, her eyes dull with hunger.

“You little bitch,” she rasped, the strength gone out of her voice even if the fight was still there. “You actually mean to starve us!”

“Only for a while,” Alfre admitted, uncorking the two bottles in her hands as Selphie began to mutter a spell under her breath. “In truth, you never had a choice to begin with. You were always going to have your levels taken away. I just wanted to let you have a chance to redeem yourselves, even if it was in a small way. Wanted to see if you were really as much of an arse as you appeared, or if you’d just gotten swept up in the propaganda you were spewing from your gob. Seems you and those buddies of yours really are as nasty as expected. The rest at least understood that they needed to own up to their actions. Now, the same will be forced onto you. Ready, Selphie?”

Selphie beamed like she was giving out candy to children. “Ready, Commander!”

A small, dark raincloud formed in the air above Summer and her three cohorts. Summer hissed as the potion hit her skin, but found herself too weak to move out of the rain. Alfre watched in her book as Summer’s levels disappeared before her eyes.

“Good thing Spica never gave you back your katana,” Alfre joked. “You wouldn’t be able to use it now anyway.”

“Shut your mouth, you bitch,” Summer hissed. “You think this will stop me? I’ll get my levels back eventually.”

“Yeah, probably,” Alfre agreed, striding towards the altar. “But you’ll hit the level cap just like everyone else. You’ll never be as strong as you used to be. And if you every try this bullshit again – ” Alfre patted the hilt of the Vorpal Blade “—then your head is mine. And next time, you’re not getting out of this cathedral.”