Unruly Summon Chapter 18: Fight (Patreon)

It wasn't really any fantastic revenge. It was certainly no Conflagratio. It took only the smallest trickle of mana and produced from it a blade of wind smaller than my hand. I doubted it would do much damage to anyone, short of a perfect hit to a soft target like the throat or an eye. Given the way all four mages reflexively cast Scutum, and the fact all four knights were wearing plate armour, there was no way it would hit them at all, never mind strike a soft target.

It hadn't been them I was aiming for.

My anaemic magic slammed into the floor, neatly bisecting a sigil that was glowing particularly brightly to my mana sight. A shower of sparks erupted from the broken sigil, the entire pattern bursting into light, flickering for a bit, then fading away to nothing as the mana bled away.

"Crap," declared one of the mages.

"Sorry," said the knight closest to me, drawing back an arm. It was nice of him to give me prior warning, so I put it to good use by ducking under his punch. The urge was back to use body strengthening again—to simply pull mana into myself and overpower my opponents—but I knew that was a bad idea. Even the cast of the reduced wind blade had nearly wiped me out again. Thankfully, the knight was no Christine, and I could dodge with my own power.

I couldn't really fight back, though. Punching someone wearing plate armour with a bare hand sounded like a great way to break my hand, but not a good way to fight. The best I could come up with was to grab his extended arm and shove him into another knight. The pair went down in a clatter of metal.

"What do you intend to do?" asked one of the others, maybe trying to be reasonable or maybe just buying time for the pair to recover. "Are you going to fight the entire royal guard? We don't want to hurt you; just ensure the safety of the castle."

I didn't see any advantage in answering his question, instead barrelling at one of the mages, grasping for a glow I could see with my mana sight.

"Scutum!" yelled the mage, shocked at being targeted.

The expected shield sprung up, but I'd seen enough mage shields to know how to react. Scutum produced a simple, two-dimensional square. It was easy enough to pirouette, side-stepping it. I continued exercising the ridiculous dexterity I'd been gifted with as a hero, reaching into the mage's robes and pulling out a green vial.

"Draw swords!" shouted one of the knights as I downed it.

"Ventus Ferrum!" shouted a couple of the mages, leaving me to desperately dodge while waiting for the potion to kick in. Flakes of stone burst from the wall behind me where the blades of wind impacted.

Mary screamed from where she'd been standing near the door as she covered her face with hands, protecting herself from the debris.

A knight stabbed at me, but this time I let my instincts take control, running mana through my muscles, strengthening my tendons. Toughening my bones.

Toughening my skin.

I caught the blade of the sword, stopping the thrust dead. A rivulet of blood ran down my fingers, my reinforcement not sufficient to completely prevent it cutting me, but it was worth it to see the look of shock on the mages' faces. It was only a pity I couldn't see the knights', hidden as they were.

Then I punched him with my bare hand. He went flying backward into a wall, his breastplate crumpled into a shape more reminiscent of a car that had just been in a particularly nasty traffic accident than armour.

"Sanatio," I chanted, because as bad-arse as that had been, I'd been correct about punching sheets of metal being a great way of breaking my hand.

"He can use battle aura?!" yelled one of the knights.

"No, it's body strengthening!" shouted one of the mages, who had cast Magus Visus at some point in the confusion.

"Like hell it is! He just caught Dave's sword!"

"Oh? You people have names?" I asked, only to be ignored.

"I swear! He's just using several times the usual amount of mana!"

"What a monster!" exclaimed another of the knights, making a stab in coordination with another rain of wind blades from the mages. He was far faster than the previous attempt, and my mana sight showed all three upright knights were running mana through their bodies.

"Scutum!" I shouted. Despite never having cast the spell before, my barrier snapped into place, deflecting the magical attacks while I sidestepped the thrust, once more grabbing the knight's arm and this time tossing him. He impacted a wall, upside-down, hard enough that I doubted he'd be getting up again anytime soon.

Mana sight was useful for confirming that, too; I saw his body strengthening flip off, the mana bleeding back out of him.

That still left the fight as one against six, and I no longer had the element of surprise. I'd already used body strengthening, so I was out of non-lethal tricks. I did have the option of a Procella cast, followed by grabbing Mary and running for our lives, but they were doing their best not to kill me and I felt it only fair to return the favour, lest they change their minds.

"Ventus Ferrum!" shouted one of the mages again, and I tensed to summon a new shield, only for his magic to shoot off in the wrong direction. One of the knights grunted in surprise as it impacted him from behind. Blood splattered as the magic drove into his leg. No way was it a miscast; it had slammed into the back of his knee, where the armour was thinnest, cleaving armour and flesh. It didn't come out the other side, but it had obviously bitten deeply, and the knight collapsed as the half-severed leg gave way, blood pooling around it.

"What the hell are you doing?!" yelled another of the mages.

"What do you think?! Do you want to fight that monster? No way! I'm siding with him!"

Another of the mages jumped out of the window, which seemed a brave move given that we were five stories up. Perhaps he knew a spell that let him fly?

The last standing knight dropped his sword, raising his hands in surrender.

"What, you too?" said the apparently loyal mage.

"I can't win, and if he's not treated soon, Kevin is going to bleed out."

"And how many other people will die if you let Thomas roam free?!"

"None. He's holding back, and I have no intention of escalating this further."

"What about you?" continued the mage, turning to the fourth mage, who hadn't really done anything all fight.

"I'm... Uh... I'm..." he stuttered, then followed his colleague out of the window.

"Fine. Get out of here," said the only loyal mage, giving up in turn. "With all this noise, reinforcements must be on their way. You won't get far."

I ushered Mary out of the door, glad none of them had targeted her, or attempted to take her hostage. Then again, given what had started this fight, they were probably all well aware of just how much that would escalate things.

"Parvus Sanatio," I chanted at the bleeding Kevin on the way out, in the hopes things would continue to stay relatively civil. Perhaps healing my enemy wasn't the best option, but Parvus Sanatio was no Miraculum. I very much doubted it would get him back on his feet, but perhaps it would save his life.

"Uh... Master? You just attacked royal knights..." said Mary as the pair of us descended the staircase in something of a hurry. Thankfully, despite the promises of the mage, no reinforcements showed up to interfere.

"I am aware, but those knights were part of a plot to kill you, and to deal with me somehow if the plot failed. I'd rather risk getting into a fight than discover what 'dealing with me' entailed. Now, I don't suppose you have any idea where the king would be at this time of day?"

"No, sorry. I've never been to the main part of the castle."

"Can you at least get us to the main part of the castle without going back down the corridor our rooms are in? I'd rather not bump into Christine right now."

"Mmm. Me neither. Follow me!"

I did so, and we ended up at a door guarded by a single knight. Despite his helmet, he radiated an impressive amount of emotion at seeing the pair of us. Mostly shock and fear.

"If you two are here on your own..." he started.

"Yes?" I asked, when he didn't continue.

"Never mind; it doesn't matter where your escort has gone. I have my orders. If you show up without an escort, I'm not to engage under any circumstances, and should you desire it, I'll escort you to the throne room."

Orders?

"You guys had a second contingency plan for if your first contingency plan failed? What is it? Using a massive room of the palace to stage the biggest ambush you can manage?"

"I believe the king is in the throne room alone. The assumption was that if you showed up unescorted, people are already dead, and he would rather keep the death toll to the minimum."

"Master didn't kill anyone!" denied Mary, pouting cutely. "He healed one of you!"

"Healed? Well, if we don't have a rampaging hero in our castle, I, for one, am glad. Would you like me to lead you to the king?"

Yes, I would. Alas, just because that was what was offered didn't mean it was what I would get. He could easily lead me into a trap. If I asked for directions instead, he could just direct me into that same trap. If I went in on my own, I'd just get lost, and then probably stumble into a trap.

"Yes..." I conceded, not really having any alternative option.

The knight opened the door, revealing the corridor behind. A thick carpet covered the floor from wall to wall. Tapestries decorated the walls. Doors were finely carved. It was brightly lit by lighting orbs hung from the ceiling in crystal chandeliers.

"Wow..." gasped Mary.

"Wow," I agreed. "That's some difference."

The knight led us down the opulent passageways. None of the doors were open, but I could see enough with my mana sight to know that they hadn't simply decorated one corridor. Besides, why would they? It would be a rather interesting interior design choice.

The corridors weren't completely deserted. We passed an occasional official, moving from room to room with bundles of parchment. Some of the more ostentatious doors had guards outside. In one corridor, a couple of maids were chatting. Despite the variety of occupants, all reacted in the same way upon seeing us: confusion. There was no fear. They obviously had no idea what was going on, but seeing a couple of strangers escorted by a knight was merely unusual, not a reason to panic.

"Hey, that's not fair. Their uniforms were far nicer than mine," complained Mary.

"Really? That's the bit you're going to focus on?"

"Obviously. I have absolutely no idea whatsoever what's going on, so you worry about all this complicated hero stuff, and I'll worry about simple maid stuff."

I failed to suppress the laughter, emitting an embarrassing snort. "If it helps, I don't know what's going on either."

"We're here, sir hero," said our guide, stopping outside the biggest doors yet. We'd come in from the side, but a wide, straight corridor ran from them right up to what was obviously an exterior door, light shining in through a glass window above it.

Both doors looked very much like they should be guarded, but the area was deserted. There was no-one within range of my mana sight, even in the room we'd been directed to. That didn't mean much; a throne room would presumably be large enough that my range didn't span it.

With a non-zero amount of trepidation, I shoved open the door.

In one respect, at least, our guide had been incorrect. The king was not alone. At the far end of the room was a pair of thrones, upon which both king and queen were seated. They looked vastly different from the last time I'd seen them. The queen's hair shone, and she wore a resplendent dress of such a length and bulk that she was likely to need aid getting up from her throne, possibly in the form of a crane. The king was little better, wearing a jewelled breastplate, red trousers and a purple robe. It was an outfit that screamed 'I am king'. In this throne room, he could get away with it, but in any other setting, he'd have looked a complete dork. Both wore crowns encrusted with jewels. There was not a single misplaced crease, nor speck of dirt or grime, between them.

And in front of them, kneeling on the floor, still with her grimy hair but with her face cleaned up and dressed in an elegant gown, was Princess Stephanie Ricousian, staring straight at me with eyes of determination.

"I'm sorry," she started, which would have been a promising opening, if only I could believe her.