Chapter 203 - Seat of the Sultanate (Patreon)

Zeke had never set foot inside the Seat of the Sultanate, so when he and his companions mounted the steps and saw the lobby of the grand building, he was unsurprised to see that it was just as poorly designed as the rest of the structure. He ignored it, though, just like he ignored all the people – most looked like government functionaries – who fled before the group.

It might’ve made sense to just kill them. After all, they were part of the problem, weren’t they? Even if they weren’t complicit in the decisions to send people after Zeke, they hadn’t stopped it, either. And some of them were of a high enough level that they could’ve made life difficult. However, Zeke felt that if he started preemptively killing anyone who might someday prove to be a threat, it would send him down a dark road.

“Carlos!” Zeke called, stopping in the center of the lobby. “I know you’re lurking in the shadows somewhere around here, so just make yourself visible.”

A second later, the former assassin stepped out from the shadow of a column. As he approached, dodging fleeing government officials along the way, he asked, “What do you want?”

“You’re not going to fight, are you?” asked Zeke.

Carlos clenched his hands into fists, countering, “You mean to ask if I’m going to slaughter people indiscriminately? I’m not a murderer, Zeke. These people are my former colleagues. Some are friends. I won’t kill them without reason.”

Zeke sighed. “Do you see me swinging my mace around?” he asked. “No. I don’t intend to fight anyone who hasn’t attacked me first.”

Of course, it could be argued that when the Sultanate had teamed up with the Spiders and sent assassins after him and his team, they had both committed their entire organizations to the fight. It was a thin justification, but it was just enough that it could support the weight of wholesale slaughter. That he hadn’t already started down that road was a testament to his self-control.

Because more than anything, Zeke was still incredibly angry. It seethed just below the surface, the molten sea of fury, fueled by both circumstance and his still-active skill, slowly becoming a frothing tempest of pure rage. He’d so far managed to keep it mostly hidden, but it would eventually break free. When it did, woe be unto anything – or anyone – that opposed him.

“I hope you’re telling the truth,” was Carlos’s reply.

“Since you’re not going to help, can you start herding these people out of here?” Zeke asked even as a terrified woman screeched during her flight. It was difficult for Zeke to understand such unmitigated fear; after all, even when he was afraid, he chose to face the problem head-on rather than run in terror. “Make sure nobody gets hurt.”

Carlos’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. A moment later, he’d started directing traffic and organizing the government officials. Even if they had been complicit, Zeke hadn’t forgotten about the undead horde bearing down on the city. It would arrive sooner rather than later, and when it did, the people of Jariq would need all the leaders they could get. If Zeke and his companions deprived the city of their government, they would fall before the wave of undead heading their way.

But before he started worrying about that, he needed to purge the corruption from the Seat of the Sultanate. With that in mind, he – along with Pudge, Abby, and Talia – resumed their march forward. Fortunately, the building itself wasn’t complicated, and most of the important areas could be found on the ground floor.

During his recovery, Zeke had learned from Taggert, the man who’d created his armor, that, in the event of an emergency, the highest-ranking officials, including the Sultan himself, would retreat to their council chambers. That wouldn’t normally be much of a problem, but along with important officials came the strongest fighters the Sultanate could muster – meaning that, if he wanted to assault the chambers, he and his companions would be forced to fight the city’s strongest people.

And that was fine by Zeke, who was still riding high off his victory against the knights.

With that in mind, the group strode through the sea of fleeing people and into the building’s main corridor. It was wide, decorated in much the same garish fashion as the rest of the building, and studded with various oil paintings depicting the various stages of the city’s construction. First was a simple, sandstone keep standing against a sea of monsters, but that keep progressively grew, painting by painting, to include a walled city. That walled city, in turn, became the Jariq Zeke had come to know.

From the beginning, Zeke had known that the desert city was a wholly created by human hands. Unlike Beacon, Sanctuary, and many of the Waystations like Bastion, it didn’t build upon elven – or other – ruins. Instead, they’d built it up, brick by sandstone brick, until it had become one of the greatest cities in the Radiant Isles. It was, by all accounts, an incredible achievement, and predictably, the men and women responsible for the city’s growth were a proud people.

But with pride came hubris, and, usually, with any level of power came a fear of losing it. And the Sultanate had given themselves over to that fear, deciding to steer into it and rid themselves of a potential problem by killing Zeke and his friends. As he marched down the hall, Zeke couldn’t help but wonder if they were regretting that choice as they huddled in their stronghold, waiting for him to descend upon them.

He hoped so.

It would be easier than rushing across the entire building to hunt them down.

“Are you okay?” asked Abby, reaching out to grip his arm once they found themselves in a mostly deserted hallway.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she said. “I can’t…I can’t feel through all this armor, but I can see how tense you are.”

“We’re in the middle of a battle,” he answered, looking at her. It was easier to bear the weight of her concerned expression when he had his helmet on. It wasn’t just protection from his enemies, but from his partner’s worry as well.

“Not right now,” she said, gesturing toward the empty corridor. The fleeing government officials were gone, leaving the Seat of the Sultanate mostly deserted. If it wasn’t a display of cowardice, it would have been impressive, how quickly they’d managed to empty the building. “You can relax for a second.”

“I really can’t,” Zeke muttered. “I’ve had [Heart of the Berserker] running for hours at this point. If I let it go, I’ll be useless for at least a day. Maybe longer. But while it’s going…”

He’d talked about it before, but the skill left him flooded with energy. Under its influence, his entire body wanted to move. To act. He was like a coiled spring, waiting to explode.

“The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get out of this city and back to doing what we need to do,” he grunted. “Until then, this is my burden to bear.”

Abby looked at the narrow slit in his helmet; it was an unnecessary part of the armor, given that the helm had an enchantment which afforded him an unobstructed view, but it gave Abby somewhere to focus. Behind that slit were his strained eyes.

“We could go,” she suggested. “Just turn around and leave this place.”

It was a valid suggestion. They could leave the city and work towards accomplishing their own goals. It would probably be smart, too. Certainly, it would be the compassionate route. For all that the Sultanate were poor leaders – especially the Sultan himself, who was largely absent from any decision-making – the city still needed someone in charge. Zeke had no interest in running a city, so when he killed the leaders, there would inevitably be a power vacuum. And given the recent losses among the various guilds’ leadership, there would be no one to step up and lead.

With an undead horde bearing down on the city, that would prove disastrous. The city would invariably fall, and their citizenry would join the undead army. It wasn’t out of line to think that the fate of the entire continent hinged on Zeke’s actions.

“We can’t let this stand,” he growled. “If we do, they’ll keep coming for us.”

“You don’t know that,” Abby said.

“I do,” Zeke said. “When I was little, my family moved to a new neighborhood. I didn’t have any friends, and that first day, standing and waiting for the bus to take me to school, one of the older boys decided I looked like an easy mark. Pushed me down. Took my lunchbox. You know, bully stuff.”

“What does this –”

“I got home that day, and I told my dad what had happened,” Zeke explained, cutting her off. “This was before he started disappearing. When I told him, he didn’t comfort me. He didn’t offer to take me to the school and tell them what had happened. Instead, he gave me some advice.”

Zeke shook his head before going on, “More of an order, really. He told me that the only way to deal with a bully was to fight back. Make them understand what messing with you is going to cost them. The next day, that same boy tried the same thing again. He pushed me down, but I was ready for him. I threw myself at him, fists first. I was only seven or eight, so it wasn’t like I could really hurt anyone. But I still hit him with everything I had. Busted his nose. After that, he didn’t come at me anymore. Nobody did.”

“But that just proves my point. All you had to do was hit him, and he backed off. You just killed their champion back there,” she said, gesturing back the way they’d come. “That’s bloodying their nose, isn’t it?”

Zeke nodded. “It is,” he agreed. “But I always wondered what I would have done if he would have kept coming. He was bigger than me. Two years older. And a lot stronger. The only reason I was able to hit him at all was because he was surprised. But if he’d have been ready, it wouldn’t have worked. For like a week after that, I was convinced that he’d come after me, and I knew there wasn’t much I could do about it if he did.”

“And you think that if you let these people go, if you leave the Sultanate alone, they’ll realize that they have more power than they thought,” she reasoned. “But you’re stronger than them, this time. You –”

“You’re not,” Zeke interrupted. “Talia’s not. Carlos isn’t. I’m not worried about me, Abby. I’m worried about you. I’m worried that you’ll all get caught in the crossfire. It’s already happened once, and I won’t let it happen again.”

“You don’t have to protect us,” Abby said.

Zeke shook his head. On that point, they would have to agree to disagree. Not only did he feel an obligation to protect his friends, but it seemed to be necessary. After all, the moment they got out of his sight, they had been captured. Certainly, there were mitigating circumstances – chiefly, that the guards had threatened the refugees – but the point still stood. If Zeke had been there, they never would have taken that chance.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’re here, and we need to take care of this while we have the chance. There’s no telling how long it’s going to take us to ascend to the next plane. It could be a month, but it might be years. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder that whole time. It’s better to nip it in the bud here and now.”

Abby clearly recognized that she wasn’t going to win the argument, so she just sighed and said, “Fine. If you’re dead set on doing this, then let’s do it.”

“I agree,” interjected Talia, reminding everyone that she was still around. Not to be outdone, Pudge let out a massive snort that said much the same.

That decided, the group resumed their march through the Seat of the Sultanate until, at last, they reached their destination – the council chambers. Two men stood guard in front of the doors, but a quick inspection told Zeke that they were curiously underleveled. Though they wore elaborate armor and carried impressive-looking weapons, the higher of the two was only level thirteen. The other was level ten. Both held their swords at the ready, but Zeke couldn’t help but notice that they did so with trembling hands.

“Go,” he ordered, jerking his head to indicate that they should leave. “You don’t need to die here today.”

At first, the two men looked as if they were going to remain steadfast, but after only a second, their shoulders sagged with mingled relief and shame before they sprinted past the group. Zeke waited until the clatter of their armor faded before he stepped up to the door. Predictably, it was engraved with a series of runes reminiscent of what he’d seen on the walls. That meant he knew precisely how to suborn the enchantments.

Putting his hand on the door, Zeke closed his eyes and let his artisan’s path guide his consciousness into the twisting glyphs and symbols that comprised the runes. A slight smile spread across his face as he found precisely what he’d expected. With a flick of his focused will, he plucked the appropriate glyph apart, and as he’d expected, the entire rune collapsed into quickly scattered energy.

“Child’s play,” he muttered. Then, opening his eyes, he raised his foot and kicked the ornately carved set of doors in. They shattered off the hinges and were sent flying through the air, then skidding across the floor to fall just short of a group of robed figures. There were nine of them, and at the center was the Sultan himself.

Desmond White – Level 25

The man didn’t look impressive, but Zeke didn’t let that fool him. In Jariq, Desmond White was a legend. Hundreds of years old, he was the last surviving member of the group that had built Jariq from the ground up. A great man, by all accounts.

But there had always been whispers concerning him. Or more particularly, concerning the deaths of his colleagues. Curious, that, of all the powerful people who had built the city, they’d all died to mysterious circumstances, and not long after White had begun his relationship with a newly formed assassin’s guild that would, in time, become the Crystal Spiders. Anyone with half a brain suspected that White had had his co-founders killed. But it was just that – a suspicion. And besides, who was going to hold the most powerful man in Jariq accountable?

Zeke rolled his shoulders and stepped into the room, aiming to do just that. He pointed his mace at the main, calling out, “Well, you wanted me. Now you’ve got me.”

He was so focused on the figures before him that he completely failed to notice the runic formation on the floor. It lit up, and an instant later, a wall of pure, blue energy sprang up around Zeke, encircling him.

“So stupid,” said Desmond, a wide grin spreading across his face. “So predictable.”