The Calling of Wrath - Book 2 - Chapter 28 - Meeting the Camp Commander (Patreon)

                                                                                              Cassandra
                                                                             Year 820 | Month 3 | Day 14

“Princess Cassandra?” the jarl mutters in confusion after pausing mid-speech during whatever meeting he’s having. “That is you, right?”

I nod my head as I walk further into the main tent, looking around at the gathered commanders around a large round table. At least half of the commanders are hunters, whereas the other half are members of Jarl Retford Gray’s service. And most of them are all rather confused at the jarl’s way of addressing me.

I had taken my mask off while stepping into the tent, surprisingly unopposed. Which goes even further to show just how much importance these Aultans place in personal strength, the fact that they’re literally letting me step into their command tend after confirming my identity as a hunter.

And it’s not a surprise that the jarl recognizes me, because he is one of the Aultan nobles serving under Grand Jarl Aldi Bergström, who comes with the king during the annual meeting at the World Tree. Which I’ve missed this year.

The jarl waves his hand and says, “Dismissed,” without any fanfare before walking over to me and reaching out his hand. Remembering the customs of the Aultan nobility, I reach out to grab his forearm in return and we both tighten our grips for a few seconds.

“What brings you to Aulta during all this?” he asks with a wide grin on his face after feeling my strength overwhelming his own.

I answer as the commanders all step out of the room in confusion, “An accidental trip through a portal.”

His eyebrows raise at that and we both let go of the other’s arms before his eyes move on to my eyes and mouth as he asks, “And does that have anything to do with the new look ye got there?”

I chuckle at that and shrug, but don’t say anything else.

Technically it does, but it doesn’t. After all, they’re after me because I’m Wrath. But at the same time, it wasn’t that particular trip through a portal that changed me. So…

He simply moves on, not really caring all that much about the details as he turns around and walks over to a small living area off to the side of the room with a few chairs situated around a table. I follow him while looking around the room and asking, “So what’s up with the invaders here? Why’re they in such smaller numbers than in Liathtria?”

The man answers as he’s sitting down, “From what I’ve been told, we’re being attacked by a different set of invaders than ya.”

My eyebrows raise at that and I remember that there are one hundred planes. Not just two.

“Our enemies are the Frozen Council of the plane known as Niflheim working alongside the Serpentine Ring from the plane called the Infinite Jungle,” Retford says before grimacing. “At the same time, one of the Frost Lords of Niflheim – which would be like our version of a sacred beast – has crossed through a portal and turned most of the Grand Jarl’s region into a frozen wasteland.”

I can’t help but frown at that.

Pretty sure I’m nowhere near strong enough to deal with a Guardian, assuming that’s what a Frost Lord is. Also, Aulta was already a bit of a frozen wasteland, but I’m not going to point that out.

“I know what yer thinkin,” the man says, his accent coming on a bit stronger this time, “but I mean it when they turned our home region into a frozen wasteland, uninhabitable by anyone who isn’t a frost giant or a lamia.”

My frown goes deeper at that, and I can’t help but ask, “What’s a frost giant and a lamia?”

Retford grabs a mug of ale from who knows where and takes a swig before answering, “Their people. The frost giants are humanoids spanning at least three meters in height, with pale blue skin and the ability to shoot out an icy mist from their mouths hailing from Niflheim. And the lamia are half human half serpent creatures from the Infinite Jungle.”

I can’t help but drop my jaw a little at the realization that there are other intelligent creatures in the one hundred planes on the level of human intelligence that aren’t Guardians or Protectors. It doesn’t help that all of the people from that Earth plane were human, albeit with strange devices.

“Well what about those golems on the border? Is that one of the invaders’ Tier 3’s doing?” I ask while leaning forward in the chair across the table from him.

The man nods his head and answers with his accent kept in check again, “Yep. The invaders have been using them to hold us off for a while without using any of their own forces.”

So it’s the same as with the duchy of Viette back in Liathtria then…

I turn my head to look in the direction of the enemies for a few seconds, only to turn back to Retford as he asks, “Reject me if you wish, but why can’t I see your level?”

“Because I’m Tier 3,” I answer him in a roundabout manner. Because that technically is true. It’s just not the real reason.

Either way though, his eyes widen in shock and he spits out the ale at the table in front of us, leaving me feeling lucky that the chair was too far away for it to land on me. He then stands straight up, places his hands on the table, and asks, “Are ye serious?! Why didn’t ya say so! I’ll be bringing ya to meet with tha king, if that’s alright with ya!”

I raise an eyebrow at his accent coming out again at full force before shrugging and answering, “That’s fine.”

Generally, it’s considered polite to keep your accent under control when talking to foreign nobility. But now really isn’t a time for formality. And Liathtrians don’t really have an accent. At least not compared to Aultans and the people of Ardene.

Anyways, I follow him as he rushes out of the tent in a hurry, occasionally yelling at people for one reason or another.

Guess it’s time to see the king again… woohoo…

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