Spellheart 9: Chapter 22 (Patreon)

The grand banquet hall buzzed with activity, the tables laden with diverse dishes, as guests from across the Ten Thousand Worlds engaged in lively conversation. Despite their many flaws, the Cult of the Unblinking Eye knew how to throw a party.

The hall was magnificent, with towering marble columns and intricately carved frescoes adorning the walls. Expansive, glittering chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene below. The tables were adorned with rich velvet tablecloths and gilded tableware, giving the entire space an air of opulence and extravagance.

Elven servants in elegant and revealing attire moved gracefully among the guests, their every movement fluid and precise as they served platters of steaming delicacies and filled goblets with the finest wines from across the realms. Some moved with silent and blank expressions, but those were only good for simple mechanical tasks. Those who had to respond to orders were a little livelier which was a relief to me.

Most of the guests were elven too. They were healthy, whole, and didn’t seem to mind the presence of their more mindless kin. There was something different about them that took me a while to notice, though.

They were wearing makeup, of all things, along with frilly dresses that had no use other than to catch the eyes of onlookers. Elves had naturally flawless features, especially those who’d done any cultivation. And with a society almost entirely female, they usually didn’t bother putting on makeup or dressing for anything other than practical daily wear.

But apparently, the Cult of the Unblinking Eye had other preferences, and they’d shifted the culture of the elves in their territories accordingly. Once again, I was impressed by their sheer influence over the region.

Sure, having a few sorcerers and demigods meant no one could question their might, but forcing others to pay respects to their organization was nothing compared to forcing them to change how they dressed. That simply couldn’t be done through physical power alone.

At the center of the banquet, a grand dais had been set up for the Satyr King and me, adorned with an even more luxurious tablecloth and settings. It was a square table, with me on one end and the Satyr King on the other, with Ethan sitting between us just in case things got rowdy.

The room fell into a hushed silence as the Satyr King made his entrance. Unlike Grognak, who carried a serene aura of intimidation around him like a cloak, the Satyr King was less imposing. I wondered if he was truly an Immortal Ascendant.

The Satyr King appeared in high spirits as he greeted me, a pompous air surrounding him. “Ah, you must be Theo,” he said with a condescending smirk. “I must say, I was expecting someone... taller. But perhaps that’s just because the myths and legends about humans have grown larger than reality can satisfy.”

“Patriarch Theo, actually. From the Hearthwood Clan.” I clenched my jaw a little. Something about the Satyr King’s haughty expression seemed designed to put me on edge. “Your majesty, it’s an honor to finally meet you in person,” I replied, striving to keep my tone respectful even though he’d failed to show any himself. “And again, I’m very sorry about the tragic misunderstanding with your son. I hope this little meeting can clear everything up.”

The Satyr King’s eyes swept over me, and his smile widened, much to my surprise. It seemed the Satyr King didn’t care much about his son other than the loss of a political bargaining piece. A piece he planned to redeem out of my wallet during these negotiations. “You know, for a moment, I almost mistook you for one of the servants. My apologies, dear boy.”

My eyebrow twitched in annoyance. I’d put a lot of effort into this meeting, but I was sure the same couldn’t be said for him.

Despite my growing anger, I focused on what Sam and Dean had taught me. I had to maintain my composure. This was interplanetary politics. This was important not just for me, but for the entire world.

“Now, now,” Ethan chuckled as he gripped the two of us by the forearms and gestured for us both to sit. Reluctantly, we both did. Ethan snapped his fingers, and elven servants appeared with food in hand and deposited plates before us. “Let’s save the serious matters until at least after we’ve sampled the appetizers. King Alistair, if I may call you that, your avatar can consume food, correct?”

The Satyr King curled his lip. “Of course. And you can call me your majesty. I have not gone by my given name since I became king, and I don’t plan to start now.”

“...Very well.” Ethan brushed off the dismissal. “We have some fine calamari taken from the deepest depths of the Myriad Monsters Sea. You live close to there, don’t you, Theo?”

I dipped a battered onion-ring-looking thing into what I was pretty sure was tartar sauce and nodded. “It’s just east of Deania, so I’m fairly close.”

I studied the Satyr King again, feeling some pressure lift from my shoulders. I’d heard of avatars before. Sam had created one, though it had gotten taken over by evil time-traveling spiders. Dean also knew the technique for creating one, though he always turned evil. Heck, my evil robotic twin could probably be considered an avatar. Or at least, it could have been before I lost complete control of it.

It was a bit of a relief to know that the figure I was seated across from wasn’t an all-powerful immortal ascendant. No wonder he’d felt so hollow in my senses. I finally mustered the courage to use my Universal Analyzer on him.

Avatar of Satyr King Alistair (Level 49 Late Sorcerer)

Ha! He was only in the late sorcerer realm, the same as me. I’d beaten foes of his level before. Still, I had to be a bit wary. Who knew what tricks someone like him might know? Sam’s avatar had certainly been exceptionally powerful for his level.

The Satyr King snorted. “As far as I’m concerned, anything in the same world is considered close. But I’m a bit better traveled than most.”

Ethan shot an apologetic glance at me. I could tell that even he was growing annoyed with the Satyr King’s clear disrespect, but there was little either of us could do. So, he tried to maintain as much control over the conversation as possible.

“I’m afraid you’re probably right. I’ve only been to the World of Hammer and Chisel and the World of Meadows and Mountains. Both are beautiful places in their own way. The Dwarves have a way with architecture few can beat. And the World of Meadows and Mountains has a certain untamed natural beauty.” Ethan shot the two of us a bright smile as he spoke.

I nodded appreciatively at his attempt. “I’ve only been to the World of Struggle and Strife myself. Family business.”

The Satyr King shoved the calamari aside with distaste. He hadn’t even taken a bite, but he’d already decided it wasn’t up to his standards. “Like I said, poorly traveled. As a prince, I went to a new world every week, partook in their finest luxuries, and then left again. It’s what my son Tivar was doing here when he was so rudely slain. Not that anyone would have ever killed me when I was his age. I was already far too powerful.”

“…Yes… of course you were, your majesty…” Ethan cleared his throat and gestured to the king’s plate, quickly replaced by another dish carried by an elven servant standing close at hand. “And not to worry. We were afraid you might not like the calamari, so we prepared a dozen appetizers. I’m sure we have something that suits your tastes.”

Elves brought up one plate after another, and I politely helped myself to a bit here and there. Despite being an evil cult, the guys of the Unblinking Eye really knew how to eat. No wonder they had such great retention among their members. I didn’t care for their views, but their food was top-notch.

Not top-notch enough for the Satyr King, though. One by one, new dishes arrived, and he sent them back one by one. Eventually, Ethan skipped the appetizers entirely and moved on to presenting main courses. I was finding it difficult to eat in the delicate and proper way Sam and Dean had instructed, with so much good food to eat.

The fact that I could see them a table away, pigging out on everything in sight, didn’t help matters. Why did they get to gorge themselves while I had to nibble like some high-society pigeon?

We ate while staring each other down across the table. I made a few attempts at chatting amiably, but the Satyr King’s tone was starting to kill my enthusiasm, despite Ethan’s attempts to lift the mood. Eventually, the elves pulled away all the remaining food, and Ethan escorted us to a nearby sitting room.

“So… why don’t the two of you get to know one another? Theo, I’m sure you’ve heard plenty about Alistair, King of the Satyrs, and now the entirety of the World of Woods and Wilds. But I’m not sure his majesty can say the same for you. Why don’t you tell him of your recent adventures?”

I forced a tight-lipped smile onto my face. The Satyr King kept his eyes on his plate, finally finding something he was interested in eating. I stared across the table at the gold-wrapped horns jutting from his head as he worked at his food.

“So, I heard you’ve recently fended off a Dragonswarm. Tell me, Theo, did you manage to drive them off? Or did you simply wait for them to grow bored with this poverty-stricken world and leave?” The Satyr king asked around a dumpling. He looked to be paying only half-hearted attention. He was clearly only feigning interest in me to satisfy Ethan’s gentle prodding.

His tone suggested he doubted my abilities, and I couldn’t help but feel another surge of annoyance. Finally, I responded calmly, “Actually, King Alistair, we were successful. I’ve got quite a few dragon heads to mount on my wall to prove it.”

The Satyr King rolled his eyes. “A few wizards or sorcerer realm lizards are of little interest to me.”

“Ah, but a good story is worthwhile in its own regard. I’ve arranged for an after-dinner show from one of the local acting guilds. Come, both of you! I think you’ll enjoy it.” Ethan beckoned us both to follow him.

The local acting guild did an impressive job reenacting a famous battle, helped largely by the fact that several of their members were skilled with illusion magic. It had been so long since my time on Earth that I’d forgotten what it was like to watch a video.

“In the actual battle, the Sea Storm Clan matriarch was not that scantily dressed,” Ethan whispered during the show. “I watched the real battle. She had regular armor.”

I nodded appreciatively. I could appreciate artistic license. Though I normally liked historical accuracy, this was one of the fields I was always willing to make an exception for.

The Satyr King, in contrast, was considerably less riveted than I was.

“I don’t need your propaganda. I have dancing elves of my own at home.” the Satyr King waved his hand and didn’t bother to conceal the yawn that followed.

“A shame. This was an important part of our history.” Ethan shook his head. “But if you don’t like the show, perhaps you’ll take a better liking to the actors. I promised they’d get to entertain us a little more up close and personal after the show.”

Sure enough, the actors jumped from the stage after their performance and headed straight to the three of us. I was still clapping politely when the actress who played the Sea Storm Clan Matriarch leaned herself over the arm of my chair.

“I can tell you appreciate your history,” she smiled at me.

“Right…history. Definitely. That’s me, a real scholar,” I grinned back.

She curled her finger at me. “We shared our story with you. How about you share one of yours? The famous Patriarch of the Hearthwood Clan ought to have some.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You know me?”

“Oh, absolutely! Word of your deeds has traveled far and wide!” the actress ran her hand along the length of my arm.

Off to one side, the Satyr King snorted. “He can hardly have done anything impressive. Not compared to my many adventures!”

I ignored the pompous Satyr. I’d had about as much as I could take from him, diplomatic visit or not.

“Tell us! We want to hear if the stories are true or if they’ve been horribly exaggerated,” the actress curled her lips in an adorable pout.

I chuckled. “Alright, alright. Tell me what you ladies have heard.”

The actresses fielded questions one after another, all of which I was happy to inform them were true. It turned out I’d done more than I thought in my time on the World of Sanctuary and Serenity. I’d battled dragons, slain interdimensional spiders, got thrown from another planet back to this one, and even battled my evil robot twin, who was still currently at large, hiding in an alternate dimension just outside my home.

The actresses oohed and awed in all the right places, and they were much more pleasant company than the man I was supposed to be talking with.

I cast a sidelong glance at the Satyr King, who appeared to be clenching his jaw in response to the elves’ appreciation.

The Satyr King, unable to tolerate the attention I garnered, strove to regain command of the situation. He interposed himself into the conversation with his own stories, regaling whoever among the actors’ guild he could tear away with accounts of grand battles and valiant deeds in a bid to outdo me.

Yet, each of his tales was clearly exaggerated and lacked any form of tension. They were little more than bragging about his wealth and power, and the elves gathered around us saw right through his lies.

“Have I told you ladies yet about that time I crushed a rebellion with nothing but a word? It’s true. I said the word ‘execute!’ and just like that, ten thousand rebels died without me needing to lift a finger. That isn’t to say I couldn’t have crushed them all myself had I wanted to. I just can’t be bothered with such droll matters.” The Satyr King waited for a response, but none came.

“B-but Patriarch Theo! Did Melise really die to the Shadowblade Beast?” the actresses pleaded.

I nodded. “She did. It was a dark time for me. But don’t worry, I managed to save her wisp, and she was reborn with memories intact, partially due to luck and partially due to something called a Bloodline Origin Awakening potion. But my companions and I had to defeat a Crimson Eye Observer to get that. It was at the peak of True Mage, and we were just a bunch of Mage Acolytes…”

The Satyr King snorted when I described the relative power levels of the forces involved in one of my earlier adventures.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I single-handedly faced down an entire legion of ogres? I was just a boy at the time with barely a tiny Sacred Grove to my name,” the Satyr King interjected, his voice booming with bravado. “Armed with naught but my wits and trusty enchanted blade, I carved a path through their ranks, leaving a trail of fallen foes in my wake.”

However, his embellished gestures and extravagant details only served to alienate the listeners ever further. Their gazes wandered, their expressions betraying a growing disinterest in his far-fetched tales.

As the evening progressed, it became evident that the Satyr King’s attempts to surpass me had backfired. Nevertheless, the crowd remained steadfast in my camp, captivated by the authentic bond I had established with them through my storytelling. A muted sense of triumph surged within me in the knowledge that I had managed to reclaim some of my dignity and outwit the Satyr King while adhering to the strictures of etiquette.

But eventually, Ethan could no longer delay the real purpose of our meeting.

“So, shall we begin the negotiations officially now?”

Ethan had tried to slip business in amidst the entertaining a few times before, but by now, he had little choice but to come at the issue at hand directly.

“Sure,” I nodded agreeably.

The Satyr King made a discontent noise of half-hearted agreement.

The Satyr King made a discontented noise, his expression one of half-hearted agreement as we turned our attention to the task before us.

Ethan cleared his throat and suggested, “Patriarch Theo, it might be best to begin with a formal apology for the unfortunate demise of the Satyr King’s son.”

Taking a deep breath, I addressed the Satyr King, my voice laced with forced sincerity. This, in particular, had taken a lot of practice. “Your Majesty, I am truly sorry for losing your son. It was a tragic misunderstanding, and I deeply regret the pain and sorrow it caused you and your people.”

The Satyr King studied me momentarily before replying, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Yes, well, words are all good, but they don’t bring back the dead, do they? I believe some form of compensation is in order.”

I nodded, as this was still within my expectations. “Of course, Your Majesty. We are prepared to discuss the appropriate reparations for your loss.”

“Let’s start with my lost property. I have it on good authority that you obtained, whether by chance or design, an elf that rightfully belongs to me. My son was stopping by your clan to steal her for himself, but I learned of her whereabouts shortly after he did. Hand her over and a small sum of a hundred thousand other elves. That will be adequate compensation for me to forget about the whole thing. Oh, and the deserter as well. I’m told you have one of mine. She needs to be properly punished.” The Satyr King met my eyes, and a shiny jingle sparkled behind them.

For my part, I fought to keep my knuckles from snapping off the arms of my chair.

“No.” I gave him a flat refusal, meeting his shining eyes with my iron-hard gaze.

The Satyr King raised an eyebrow. “No? As in no to returning my stolen property, or no to the hundred thousand elves.”

“Neither!” I spat back. A moment later, I gathered myself. “We’ll have to think of some other compensation. How about a small army of golems?”

The Satyr King rolled his eyes. “Who would waste their time with golems? The lesser races favor such mindless automata, but they are fools. They haven’t realized that you don’t need to waste time building complex enchantments when you can simply conquer and enslave your enemies. Once beaten, they are perfectly suitable for whatever drudgery you might have otherwise offloaded to golems.”

Ethan turned to me with a thin-lipped smile before shooting a glance in the Satyr King’s direction. “How about two hundred thousand elves and no mention of anything else?” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “You know how we humans tend to get attached to certain toys. It’s a... weakness of ours.”

Ethan had to force the last few words out, but the Satyr King took him at face value.

“Quite. But a mere two hundred thousand elves are no match for a Keystone Elf. On the other hand, she could be the cornerstone of an entire new Sacred Grove, which I need now that my territories have so dramatically expanded...” The Satyr King stared at me with raised brows and an unkind smile.

“Fine...” Ethan held up a hand. “Three hundred thousand elves, though most will be in wisp form.” He turned and glanced at me. “Don’t worry, the Cult of the Unblinking Eye can sell you the wisps to fulfill the bargain. So you need only provide compensation to us.”

There was a twinkle in Ethan’s eyes too, and it seemed a little sharper than what I’d seen in the eyes of the Satyr King. Suddenly, I felt like a fawn surrounded by two hungry wolves.

Being indebted to the Cult of the Unblinking Eye would probably be even worse than paying off the Satyr King. There weren’t any good options here.

“I appreciate the offer, Ethan, but I’ll take care of this directly,” I promised. I turned back to the Satyr King. “How about a few bespoke enchantments to help you stabilize your new realm?”

The Satyr King toyed with my idea for a bit, and after he toyed with a few other offers, I had up my sleeve. As the minutes passed, I thought the Satyr King was amusing himself throughout negotiations. From the start, it was clear he wasn’t taking this meeting seriously. But he did want Sava, and to a lesser extent, Mayatania too. So just what exactly was he up to?

< Author’s Note>

Ethan came out surprisingly likable in this chapter. The Satyr King... less so.