Chapter 25 [Both]: Servene (Patreon)

Marvis, Lena, and I discussed an alliance for the next few hours. Partially due to his enjoyment of my initial reaction, Marvis was more cooperative, and by the end, we had made an official pact. Lena would take my claim of the Threnosia Forest and some farmland; in exchange, she would extradite the Servenians who had fled for Vervain to Servene and would block Stellevine and Pyrothia from moving East. In short, she had the opposite role that she did before. As for Marvis, nothing had changed. He would continue working with the others to conquer Stellavine and Pyothia. By the time we were done, Lena was satisfied, and Marvis was staring at me with a disgruntled look.

“What?” I asked him.

“It’s just….” Marvis exhaled, looking around for the words. “How can you make alliances so comfortably when your people sit at King Elio’s door? I mean, you haven’t even learned what magic he has, for fuck’s sake!”

A sharp pang of annoyance jolted through me. “Do you think my people are helpless babes without me, King Reckog? That I’d leave them undefended as I took a merry voyage around the world?” I snorted with a mocking smile. “My weapons make magical dominance irrelevant. Now, either disagree and relieve my ignorance or stop insulting my people.”

Marvis laughed and leaned back in his chair, pinching his brow. “Everwood. Everwood, Everwood… Everwood. Let me tell you a story from long ago or something cliche like that.”

I let him.

“It was said that long ago, a mighty general fell in battle. Due to the general’s achievements, he was given another chance at life. However, he wouldn’t hear of it. He said that he died with his soldiers, and that’s where he belonged. So tell me, Everwood. What do you think that the gods did? Turned him down? Told him to fuck off? Or….”

I gave him a listless expression. “I don’t know. Tell me.”

Marvis’s mouth curved into a wicked grin. “They resurrected his entire army.”

My skin prickled with gooseflesh. “He was born with the power of a necromancer?”

“Yes. Not only that, he managed to conquer the greater part of Forge, Cyrvena, Jynthra, and Desiderata before fighting the Paramount,” Lena said, referring to the Paramount War, which was fought between Juntao and the southern half of Antigua. Now, I was beginning to understand that the Paramount was the grounds for the memories that I envisioned in the labyrinth. “Do you understand what that means?”

Marvis turned to her when my eyes widened. Then he turned to me in confusion. “What?”

I ignored him. “The fifth stage?”

Lena nodded solemnly.

For the fifth stage of my magic, I had to unite 50 kingdoms simultaneously, win ten wars, and create 80,000 magical weapon variations. Judging by the conversational tone, it was similar for all reincarnators: master your magic, then use it to conquer the world in preparation for the main attack.

The stages gave people overwhelming power. While I hadn’t used it (since I prioritized self-sufficiency), I gained another magic in the fourth stage—Molecular Fusion. With that magic, I could fuse molecules without reacting agents, catalysts, or reaction chambers. With it, I could’ve converted a large section of the ocean into chlorine gas and blown it straight into Harbor City, poisoning and killing everyone. That’s the power of a fourth stage. The fifth stage was even more destructive. Once I got Magical Fusion, I would be able to fuse magic directly into weapons, likely allowing me to create fire magic shells for machine guns and cyclone grenades… or something else equally ridiculous. With that in mind, it was clear that anyone who made it to stage five would be the world’s champion and worthy of near-absolute power to lead the world in the battle. 

But… so much didn’t make sense. The memories that I saw showed that at the end of the century, another famous general would awake from a magic ritual in Eudoria and lead his and the demon army to conquer the rest of the world. I’m not entirely sure how only a broad guess of who and a general feeling that whatever spell they were under was beyond something that Browing M2 machine guns could stop. So that begs the question—why did King Elio have magic before the calamity? Or, are there two calamities, and our enemy is preparing to join in the fight from the other end?

“Can someone explain what the fuck is going on?” Marvis asked, seeing our grave expressions.

“You’re incredibly annoying,” I sneered. “You refuse me information on King Elio, and now you’re demanding information? Ridiculous. I’m retiring for the night. Queen Boudica, let’s discuss this further in private.”

Marvis tried to object, but I sent him a piercing glare that shut him down. “Good night, King Reckog,” I said coldly. “Please return to your men and celebrate our victory. Servene has fallen, and Vervain has switched sides. That’s worth celebrating, is it not?”

Marvis took a sharp breath and stood up. “It is. We’ll speak soon.” After he left the room, I walked Queen Boudica to the door. 

“Is he the only fifth stage?” I asked. “What about Emperor Kenani?”

Queen Boudica shook her head. “I don’t know, but I doubt it. If Kenani had fifth-stage power, it’d have to be incredibly weak. He has the temperament of a conquerer but has only seized a third of Juntao.”

I nodded.

“Are you really not worried about King Elio?” Lena asked.

I pursed my lips into a straight line. “That’s a complicated question. I trust that my intuition about King Elio is right, but it doesn’t quiet my unease.”

“Then why are you continuing here?”

“If my father, allies, and weapons can’t stop King Elio, then I’m not sure that my presence would make a difference.”

Lena narrowed her eyes. “Do you think you’re that weak?”

I gave her a mocking smile. “No, I think my people are that strong.”

2

Leon sidestepped an attack from his flank. Then he spun in an arc, clashing his sword against another. He was breathing heavily, his long brown hair drenched in sweat. “Damn, he’s strong…” he grinned. “But not strong enough.” Churning energy in his soul core for the first time, Leon’s power multiplied as he shot forward. When the swords clashed, his enemy’s blade erupted in an explosion of wood splinters raining from the sky.

“NO FAIR!” Samson wined, pushing himself from the ground, his face flecked with dirt. “You said you wouldn’t use magic!”

Leon and his son were battling in the Elysian Gardens behind the castle. The summer air was dry and unforgiving, but the shade of Elma trees and the smell of hundreds of exotic flowers made it feel like spring. 

“That wasn’t magic; it was basic reinforcement,” Leon replied, redoing his ponytail and wiping his brow.

“You said you wouldn’t use anything but your mortal strength!” Samson huffed, standing up. He was now about 4 feet tall, ten years old, and already wielded the power of a low Immortal and the angst of an edgy teenager.

Leon frowned. “Look, Kid. You’re getting too strong. Consider it graduation or something. Now, let’s get going. I have to attend to my duties.” 

“Hey! Wait!” Samson yelled, running after him, tugging on his sleeve. “Ten more minutes! Just ten!”

Leon took a deep breath, his eyes hollow and dark with sleep deprivation. In retrospect, Ryker never prepared me for having children. He stopped and turned to his young son. “What’s the rush, kid?”

Samson blushed and turned away. “I want to get stronger.”

“You are strong. I can’t fight you without reinforcement now.”

“But you’re not…!” Samson’s face paled when he saw his father’s expression.

“Your brother. I got it,” Leon brooded. “But you’re also far stronger than he was. You have an A-rank soul core, an unlimited supply of magic spells, and teachers. Those are things he didn’t have.”

“But he had a powerful super mage for a teacher….” Samson muttered.

Leon sighed and knelt down, tousling his son’s sweaty hair. “You just want your brother to teach you. That’s what you want, don’t you?”

The kid blushed and turned away. “Of course not. I’m trying to beat him.”

“Okay. I was thinking about sending you to live with him after he returned from Antigua. But I guess you don’t—“

“No! I have to!”

Leon smiled wryly. “Okay, I’ll do that. But you have to commit to your studies. Otherwise, he’ll be disappointed when he sees you.”

“I will! I promise!” Samson declared.

“Good boy.” Leon ruffled his hair again. Then, they continued walking.

He’s even a better teacher, I bet…. Leon internally grumbled as they entered Lockheart Castle. But once he thought about it, he grinned. But will he be a better parent? Doubt~it! That thought made him grin as he split off his son and enjoyed a Roman-style bath in the castle.

Then he went to the audience room where his duties as king were… underwhelming. While he was a regent with full authority as the King of Sundell while Ryker was away, his son had created a political machine so smoothly that people only came to him for stamps of approval. Otherwise, laws were institutional and didn’t need the king’s ruling; territorial disputes were handled by magistrates who specialized in the law, and his only job was to help clarify the boundaries of legal loopholes—something that he was uncomfortable doing. Still, he was following his son’s orders to rule like a king, so he had scribes record his rulings and told everyone that the laws were subject to change upon Emperor Everwood’s return.

In truth, he felt useless and suspected that many of his political duties were designed specifically to remind him and others that he was in charge, even though he wasn’t doing anything. That extended everywhere, from the army, which had multiple generals and divisions that were self-sufficient, to the Merchant Council, which made rulings on commerce and trade without the need for the king’s attention beyond attending the weekly councils.

Leon understood that the system wasn’t as self-sufficient as it seemed. According to Trenton Alderic, the mayor of Sundell, and his head advisor, Ryker ruled by influence. When Leon pressed him for an explanation, Mayor Alderic had explained, The councils only vote on things that King Everwood suggests, and they are quick to repeal laws or change them if he suggests that they are flawed.

Doesn’t repealing and changing laws cause problems for businesses? Leon asked.

It does, but no one questions King Everwood’s wisdom or dares to oppose him. Moreover, his rulings of this type are rare, as he has outlined the next two decades of reforms in advance, Mayor Alderic explained. 

Once Leon learned that there was a rule book waiting to be introduced after the introduction of new technologies and the general “capitalist” principles that would govern the world, he confirmed his time in the audience chamber was a formality. So what? I’m genuinely unneeded here?

No, that’s not true, Mayor Alderic answered without hesitation. The need for a leader is as important now as ever. You just don’t need to be involved in the minutiae of daily governance. That’s how the system was designed.

Ever since that day, Leon had been spending time preparing his son and daughter for leadership in the new world order. Whatever that was. Apparently, Erin had to be trained to be a king, not a queen, and Ryker told the seven-year-old firecracker that she didn’t have to wear dresses if she didn’t want to. Parenting had been a confusion-driven hellscape ever since.

In truth, he was grateful for that insight, as he didn’t want to leave his children unprepared, and he felt like he didn’t know what to prepare them for. The world was moving too fast. The future was unknown. So he trained his kids the best he could, networked with the people, and prayed that Ryker’s empire didn’t actually need “a leader” before his son returned.

That night, he returned to his chambers with a bittersweet smile, signifying another day well wasted, as usual. However, unlike usual, Scarlet wasn’t waiting with a solemn, loving embrace. She had glittering eyes and an ecstatic expression.

Leon knitted his brows. “What?”

“Do you want the good news or the best news?” Scarlet squealed.

He blinked twice in amazement. “How… about the good news?”

She ran up and thrust a letter into his chest. He opened it with excited hands and read it. “Wait… no way.”

“He’s already conquered Servene! Minimal casualties! Thank goodness….” Scarlet nuzzled into his chest, tears streaming down her face. While she was proud of her son, she had a soft spot for him ever since he was a child and worried about his trip. Hearing he was okay was a huge relief off her chest.

Leon was stunned. “This is… the good news? What’s the best news?”

Scarlet pushed off his chest and gave him a radiant smile. “I’m pregnant!”

Leon’s mind overflowed with emotions, and he began choking up. “I cannot express my joy…” he whispered, hugging her tightly. The news rekindled his passion. Now, more than ever, he was determined to protect his family and their empire—no matter what it took.

3

The day after Marvis returned his forces and Queen Boudica left to announce the fall of Servene and the new alliance, I got an expected guest: King Edwar of Celestium. Unlike the last time I saw him, he ate and drank sparingly during our reception. The atmosphere was tense, and after long periods of silence and awkwardness, he followed me to my council chambers, where he seemed determined to read out the monologue he had prepared in his feeble mind. However, before he could, I started with a grave question:

“Where’s Roslain Bouchard?”

His eyes widened but then narrowed. “I left her at home. This is men’s work.”

I scoffed at his uncharacteristic bravado, and my lip curled at his stupidity. “Are you mad?” 

He furrowed his brow. “Mad? What do you mean by that, King Everwood?”

I looked around aimlessly, searching for self-control before huffing, “I slew Roslain’s father, and you left his blood in your territory unattended? How dense are you?”

His face flushed crimson, and he prepared to slam the table with the rage of a boar, but I released magical pressure that made him gasp and fall into his seat, which tipped over and hit the floor with a crash. 

“What in the gods was that?!” he screamed until he saw me circle the table and glower at him. Then he shut down.

“In case you’ve forgotten, the head of your Royal Guard is Roslin’s son, and your benefactor—her father—is dead. That means your power and authority are contendable, and you left the contender alone in your kingdom unattended?”

King Edwar’s face contorted into a snarl. “Are you implying that I can’t retain my kingdom?”

“Your kingdom…” A grin twisted onto my lips. It wasn’t the type of grin you send someone after you win or are mocking them for something stupid they’ve said. It was the aggressive type, filled with a heavy balance of pity and annoyance that they’re wasting your time despite their situation being comically hopeless. Then I picked up his fallen chair, turned it around, and straddled it from the back. “I’ll tell you what, Edwar. Go home and make sure you still have your kingdom. Once you confirm it’s nice and safe, then we’ll talk. I don’t make King deals with disposed kings or fools.”

“I’m not going to take this abuse!” King Edwar stood up, feeble yet defiant like a trapped fox snapping at its captor.

“Ah, yes. You have a unique taste in abuse,” I replied dryly, then pointed at the door. “Now, leave. You have one month to consolidate your power before I summon you. If you don’t have control by then, I’ll deal with Roslin instead. If neither you nor her show, I will conquer Celestium without further warning.”

King Edwar opened his mouth, but he was too pale and sickly to find the words. So he just wobbled to the door.

As he opened it, I called out, “Execute her for adultery.”

He gulped, audible in the frigid silence. “W-What?”

“Adultery. Everyone knows. It’s truly pitiful that everyone but you knows the depth of her unfaithfulness, but you can use that against her. I came here to fight King Bouchard and killed him without contest. It’s terrifying. You can tell them. Paint wide stories about how much of a monster I am and how much I hate the Bouchards. Luckily, your wife had an illegitimate son, and she’s an adulterer. That means that if you just execute her for an international offense, then—“

“E-Enough…” King Edwar stammered.

“—the monster will leave them alone,” I continued. “Of course, if someone doesn’t execute her for a crime they know she’s committed, well, execute them in a straight line. Anyone who wouldn’t is a conspirator. Traitor.”

“S-Stop…” he gulped.

I smiled tauntingly but refused to look at him as I sat, still staring at the spot he was when I was interrogating him. My open back was to him, reminding him just how unthreatening I found him. And to seal in that point, I continued to the bitter conclusion. “If you do all of that, you might… just might have a chance of retaining your kingdom.”

“I SAID ENOUGH!” King Edwar screamed, stumbling backward into the hall. “I-I’m not going to do it. I won’t kill my wife or my people!”

I sighed. “Then you’ll lose both.”

An oppressive silence followed until he accepted that there was nothing more to say and left. When he did, I rubbed my temples. Well, there goes my peaceful passage to Desiderata…. Fuck my life.

Thankfully for King Edwar, Celestium stood between and King Redfield. Thus, I was inclined to forgive the man and make him my pawn to build my legitimacy in Antigua and gain passage to Desiderata. Unfortunately for me, King Edwar was a fool. Even if Rosalin proved even more incompetent (something I found extremely unlikely), I wasn’t sure if I wanted him as a pawn. 

In truth, Roslain was likely the true ruler of Celestium, as she was the one enforcing her father’s will. With that being the case, everyone was already accustomed to taking orders from her, not King Edwar and a coup was imminent. Celestium would fall to Roslain. I was almost sure of it. And while I didn’t particularly care who I made deals with, I don’t make deals with those who seize thrones by breaking them. That meant war was on the horizon, and I was pissed about it.

Still, that was a problem for another time. For now, I needed to focus on Servene’s bitter homecoming and plan how to keep everything stable. The last thing I needed was internal strife in Servene before I left for Desiderata. It was there I’d obtain oil, solidify peace in Novena, and take the first step toward earning Rema her relational freedom.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. One thing at a time.

4

It took a week for Servene’s leading citizens to reach Vervain. Then, it took another for them to raise hell with declarations of betrayal after they learned Queen Boudica switched sides before bitterly turning around and journeying back to the capital, collecting blister-footed women and children still walking to Vervain as they went. By the time the first of them arrived, fear, hysteria, and exhaustion welled together in a warlock’s melting pot, and they were prepared to scream at my soldiers and accept death. 

However, their homecoming wasn’t as they imagined. There, on the outer gates of Servene’s great walls, awaited large vats of soup made with soul meat that instantly relieved their aches and pains and internal woes. After being sedated, the soldiers verified people’s addresses and released them to their homes, leaving the citizens stunned as they wandered into unplundered estates without lengthy proceedings.

Confusion turned to disbelief the next morning when they awoke and learned that my soldiers were occupying Harbor City instead of Servene, and plunder and assault were serious crimes, the latter being a capital offense that only had a trial long enough to deem someone guilty before the execution. Due to these laws, the soldiers were unreasonably patient with their new subjects.

The combined effect was—

—dreamlike.

Citizens walked through the streets of Servene, viewing the ornate, gothic architecture they thought would be charred and broken exactly as they remembered it. In fact, it seemed pristine, frozen in time, as if locked behind glass. It was both there and not, functional as it was a few weeks ago, but abandoned in a ghost city people were only starting to return to. The citizens could only view it with anxiety, wondering if their lives, too, would remain unchanging when they returned to them, but knowing that they wouldn’t. The question was of the degree of change and what it meant for them. Still, it wasn’t entirely negative, and as more people returned and populated the buildings, the streets awakened with awkward optimism.

Then something… changed.

As people lined up for food lines, uncertain of whether to work or prepare to pack up, peculiar conversations started springing up. It would start with someone lamenting, They’re coming for my business first. It’s prime land. It’s one of the few times it pays to be poor. Then suddenly, someone would say, Haven’t you heard? Naturally, a person would say, Heard what? and then any number of strange rumors of outlandish proportion would flow out.

King Everwood doesn’t steal property or businesses, one would say. I hear he gave ten real gold pieces to each man who swore fielty to him in Brigla. 

Of course, outlandish rumors aren’t to be believed. So someone else, hearing something else, would be quick to correct, He didn’t pay people for loyalty, old man! He doesn’t steal because it’s against his world’s culture. I hear Kings can’t even take someone’s property without paying them. They can’t even give or accept gifts without payment!

More peculiar still, the counterargument would also be strangely absurd in its own right, and someone would be quick to point out, He’s been giving out bread and food all week! Simple logic would send everyone into a feeding frenzy of rumors and debates. 

Rema and I released these strange and curious rumors, of course. Each one was masterfully crafted to be eccentric and believable enough to drive people to talk about it but too ludacris for them to get their hopes up about. It seemed contradictory, but its value was in the propaganda told in the shared commonalities between the stories. King Everwood doesn’t steal property. He makes plunder illegal. He buys instead of takes. Without anyone realizing it, they were all subconsciously agreeing that I wasn’t going to mistreat them until it was the overwhelming majority opinion.

By the time I gathered the Servenians and announced that I wouldn’t be seizing land and would only procure properties for my soldiers and people through Eminent Domain (purchasing them at market value), countless broke down in tears of relief, but no one claimed my words were untrue. Most people even questioned if the outlandish stories about me were partially rooted in fact and hope cast light over the dark horizon.

Not everything I told them was so rosy. Under Zenith’s rule, they would be subjected to the Everwood Empire’s legal codex and economic reforms, and that was a cause for serious anxiety. Still, I did clarify that we would be setting up councils to appraise laws within the context of Servene’s culture to ensure that there weren’t any laws that ran contrary to beliefs and practices, as people are hard to rule if you make their cultural norms illegal. And luckily for them, I was a libertarian who generally believed that people could do whatever the fuck they wanted so long as they were not hurting anyone—including their spouses and children. 

As for my culture and reforms, they were mostly economic; people had to accept them or go bankrupt. No laws, rhetoric, or politics necessary.

As the whisper campaign was working miracles, we consolidated a new leadership cabinet under Zenith, who was both surprisingly and unsurprisingly good at ruling. By the end of the week, we reopened the city and slowly let the people return to their normal lives under our watchful gazes.

Once people were selling bread and produce in bustling marketplaces, and blacksmith’s hammers struck anvils, I finally sighed and penned the following letter:

“To the reigning ruler of Celestium,

I, Emperor Ryker Alexander Everwood, request your presence in Servene in two weeks’ time to discuss the ongoing war that has made partial claims to your territory. It’s my intention to negotiate potential alliances, alleviate hostilities, and work out a potential settlement with Celestium.

If you do not meet my summons, I will negotiate with all other concerned parties without your input.

Sincerely, Emperor Ryker Alexander Everwood.”

When the levitating pen glided back into its case, I sighed and looked at the ceiling. Let the coup begin. With that sardonic thought, I tied the note to a carrier crow and sent it flying to Celestium in the nighttime breeze. Then, I went to bed, wondering which crisis would play out in the morning.

5

Edikus sat in the back of a wagon, covered in rags and a fleece blanket. It was degrading to travel in a flee-infested merchant caravan, but he didn’t have a choice. Ryker’s commercial empire had infected the whole of Novena, creating the world’s largest spy network of people whose livelihood revolved around Everwood Company products. As a result, the Wreaths couldn’t move freely. Edikus was certain that Ryker had seen plenty of them during his birthday, and that was enough for him to recreate their faces with absolute accuracy.

Worse, the archwizards, like Archwizard Roman, operated in broad daylight for centuries by living in rural areas as farmers or day laborers. It wasn’t a problem because normal people cannot sense magical aura unless a mage released pressure. However, ever since Ryker started freely releasing magic to everyone like a fool, low-level reeves could sense their presence.

Without ever considering the consequences, Ryker systematically removed the protectors of Novena and pushed them into hiding. Fool. It was things like that that kept Edikus up at night, questioning whether or not Ryker was a benefit to the world. As of late, after the introduction of the King Killer, a weapon he easily got his hands on, he was leaning toward the latter with the others.

During the last Council of Wreaths, Archwizard Emery spoke regarding the issue on everyone’s mind, and he could offer no justification.

While I was initially glad to see a king teaching magic more liberally, teaching ancient magic to regular soldiers is foolish, and this? she had scoffed, brandishing the King Killer rifle, which was similar to a musket in concept but infinitely more refined and sinister. A child can kill a king with one of these, and he’s handing out thousands of them. It’s only a matter of time before the kingdoms in Antigua recreate them. Then there will be no order in the world!

The other archwizards readily agreed. For centuries, they had monopolized ancient magic; for that reason, they were able to defend Novena and stabilize it if necessary. But now? They were just strategic soldiers with powerful skills who a twelve-year-old with a gun could kill. It was absurd.

What do you think, Edikus? one asked.

Edikus thought carefully before sending them a rueful smile. I think it’s best to consult Elio before our enthusiasm drives any actions.

A flurry of bitter tongue clicks and scoffs met his reply, but no one dissented. Now, he was on his way to consult the man.

Suddenly, the wagon slowed, and a group of people called out in the darkness. The caravan stopped at the railroad depot to unload goods for Silverbrook, Ardenthal, and the Green Sea on its weekly trip.

Can we inspect the cargo?

Of course. There’s just some people riding with us to South Beach.

Edikus kept his head low as Everwood Empire soldiers approached with mana lamps. One stopped for a moment, staring at him intently. The archwizard started silent-chanting a spell as the soldier stared at him, preparing an attack. Just as the spell was finishing, the soldier scoffed. Disgusting, he grumbled as he walked away. I can’t believe people can live like that.

Edikus took a deep breath with a pounding heart as they walked away. Then, the steam engine whistle sounded, and the wheels on the wagon started moving on. This is getting untenable… he thought, closing his eyes.

He kept them closed until he reached the South Beach Road, the trading route that led to Sunset Shore. Once they got there, he paid another group of traders to take him inland because while Ryker traded with the country, he never let his own merchants cross the border. That alone reminded Edikus that Ryker wasn’t actually a fool. Somehow, despite having mass-produced weapons that could kill kings and archwizards, he still avoided provoking someone who—at most—could be both. Still, regardless of his intuition, he had still made himself a problem that King Elio could no longer ignore.

That’s what Edikus believed, anyway. Tomorrow morning, he would find out.