Chapter 22 (Patreon)

1

Gael slowly raised his spear to a ready position. “What did you say? You ventured with the Berserker hero?”

Fuck. Lyn knew she had fucked up royally. She had let slip a clue about who she really was. And Gael had picked up on it instantly. Is there any way out of this? Do I even want to keep the façade going? She could just tell them the truth. These two. Only these two. She was never a good liar; she knew that about herself. Keeping half-truths and concealing the truth? Sure. But not outright lying. Gulping down the lump in her throat, she put her sword away. “I trust you two as my Bodyguards. Do not share what I am about to say.” She looked behind her to see Vael, also standing at a low-ready stance. Passive…but ready to strike.

Lyn stood on the edge of a blade. Two options ahead of her. Kill them and keep the charade going with the other Duskari. Or tell them the truth. What the fuck are you doing? She thought. Just kill them. They’re Duskari. You’re not really the Destroyer.

No. I’m not like that bitch. That is exactly what Cecily had done. The heroes had helped a slave rebellion, and once they had freed them, she had them shipped off to a work camp in the small part of the kingdom she had sworn allegiance to. Trading slavery for indentured servitude. She betrayed them. And Lyn was many things…but a traitor was not one of them. And, like it or not, she had begun to develop an attraction to these two.

These were her allies. Her current lovers. The emotional connection might not be strong…but it was there. And if she killed them…more bad memories I’d have to deal with. She took a deep breath. “My name is Lyn Rivers…and I was once the Scout hero.” Both Duskari raised their spears and circled her. Lyn kept her hands up, but her palms were facing out towards them, and she willed her mana to broil and bubble into her wrists – a spell ready to cast if necessary. One that would force them to back up so she could flee.  But…she had to try and make them understand.

“I killed the Demonic Dragon ten years ago. I struck the killing blow. Then, I was transported back to the world I was summoned from. I have the Destroyer mana core within me – you saw evidence of that. And I forced my way back here because I wanted the glory of killing the Demonic Dragon. The fame, the prestige…and an easy life being worshipped. When I summoned myself back, it was in this body.” She looked at Vael, “My glory was stripped away. The other heroes took credit for my deeds. They did something to fuck with history. Some external spell that hid my role.” She felt anger rise in her chest, and the mana bubbled and broiled in response.

Those fuckers. They just threw away my memory. My hard work. I fucking saved them!

The anger felt righteous. Justified. Those fuckers left all memory of her aside and took the credit. Her credit. Years of her blood, sweat, and tears while they fucked off and made families, got laid, established themselves. And all she got was what? A castle? She felt her voice shift in tone, dropping to the guttural, draconic growl. “They betrayed me. And I am going to take my rightful place as the ruler of this world.” The mana churned and simmered, ready to explode, destroying and consuming at her whim. Yeah. She was owed something huge for destroying the evil that had plagued Ghomar for thousands of years.

She paused. She had thought of this before. But saying it aloud…cemented her decision. The words she was about to speak would dictate the course of this life of hers. She knew her Destroyer mana core was partially responsible for this shift in perspective…but ultimately, Lyn, not some persona-altering mana core, was choosing this path. It’s the right thing to do. And I deserve this.

“I will rule this world. Ghomar will serve Lyn Rivers, the benevolent Destroyer. In my empire, none will go hungry. None will suffer. Justice will be served. All races will live in peace and harmony or be crushed by my might.”

She wasn’t just saying empty words. This was an oath. To whoever the fuck was listening – Aelor or some other deity. Lyn would remake this world. She wouldn’t let people suffer like they did on Earth. She had the power to change things, and she was going to fix this world whether people wanted her to or not. She would break chains. She would purge the wicked. She would protect everyone she could. She would reclaim her name and place in history as something more than just the Scout hero who killed the Demonic Dragon. Her mana core continued to roil and rumble within her chest – despite the armor, the weapon, the amulet…it was still unwieldy and did not seem to fully be under her control.

But there was a slight improvement. She did not feel the burning rush in her chest she had grown accustomed to. The lack of heat was a relief she didn’t know she was waiting for.

Vael and Gael backed off and their eyes filled with fear and wonder. “My…Lord…” Gael whispered, dropping to his knees. Vael did the same a moment later.

“…What?” Lyn asked.

Vael looked up, tears filling her eyes. “Your…you…”

Gael rummaged through the camp supplies and produced a hand-sized mirror, bowing deeply as he held it up to Lyn’s face. She inspected herself. Nothing is different, she thought. Her eyes were the same, her face, the same pixie-esque appearance. But as he tilted it down, she realized what they had recognized.

She willed the armor to shrink and recede to its smallest, most revealing configuration. She could make out the geometric patterns of body enhancement. But those patterns were obscured in some places by scales. Dragon scales. Black scales with crimson inlay, and tiny, almost undetectable, green swirls. They covered her forearms, thighs, shins, calves…the areas that would be the most exposed to damage during a fight. Her hands were replaced with wicked black claws, and her feet had shifted as well.

She heard steps behind her, and wheeled on Vael, who bowed once more, and gestured to her head.

Lyn reached her hand up.

She felt horns.

Guess I did keep some of the Demonic Dragon’s power.

Lyn laughed at the irony. The person who killed the Destroyer, become the new Destroyer. She laughed harder at the power she felt surging in her. As if something had awoken within the mana core in her torso. She could feel the slight gust of the Scout hero core. As if an old friend who was recognizing her for the first time in a long time. A consumed hero core, fully submitting to her Destroyer core.

“Let’s fucking wreck this dungeon.”

2

Volio had acquired a mount at Fort Watch and heard about the border raids that Kory’s mercenary company had been performing against Cecily’s lands. That mad bastard, he thought. But, he did his duty, and went to their headquarters within the mighty fortress that looked out over and kept watch on the lands surrounding the entrance to the Valley of the Volcano. Once he introduced himself, and showed off a bit with his archery skills, he was able to speak with the standing sergeant of Kory’s mercenary company. He left the letter and Lyn’s emblem, along with his own hastily penned letter apologizing for missing Kory on this trip.

He rode hard for Khrelardia. Every mile that he traveled, his heart grew lighter and lighter. He clasped Lyn’s garments and inhaled her scent, memorizing it, savoring it. He couldn’t wait to finish this journey of delivering letters and get back to her.

After all, they had a connection.

She had promised to reward him for his deeds. Give him a position in her burgeoning power structure. Of course he would help her. He loved her. He would do whatever she asked. He knew that she had to give him a high-ranking position in order to make it proper for them to be together as partners. It made perfect sense. Finish this mission, be granted a title of nobility and largesse, and then…then it would be appropriate for him to ask for her hand in marriage.

Putting the clothing back into his hip pouch, he felt and rolled around the pair of wedding rings between his fingers. He had commissioned them after they had been in Ghomar for a year, and he had saved up some capital from his split of the treasure discovered at the end of a dungeon.

“Look out!” Lyn had yelled as the enormous serpent bared down on him. Volio dove to the side and unleashed a flurry of shots which found their mark in the creature’s eyes. But, he knew snakes used their ability to smell prey, or detect body heat, to track. He would have died if not for her. Just like with the dodgeball game, she intercepted the blow for him; shoving her spear into the thing’s mouth and into its brain. She had turned to him with that same smile, his dark angelic protector. Even covered with viscous green blood, she was stunning. “Are you okay?” she had asked.

They were meant to be together. Why would she save him otherwise? Why risk her life if not because she loved him? He missed his chance to propose before their fight with the Demonic Dragon…but he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

3

Cecily stood in front of her palace, facing a large gathering of the masses. Bread and circuses, she thought as she recalled the words of Juvenal, the Roman poet. Keep the masses entertained and fed, and you can do what you please. She raised her hand, and at the signal, her servants began to distribute bread.

But not just any bread. Bread that was tainted. She turned to Brad, the Alchemist hero, and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “How long will this take?” she asked in English.

Brad scratched his short beard. The short, stout man had a mane of wild, light brown hair and an equally wild look in his eyes. He spoke quickly despite his apparent state of being high on some substance. “Depends on the weight and height of the individual. For an average person who is five-foot, seven-inches, weighing around one-hundred fifty pounds, it should take three minutes and twelve seconds to take effect. Larger people will take longer, naturally.”

Cecily nodded. “Excellent.” She gestured to her Seneschal, who waved servants over carrying a large chest. They set it down in front of Chad, and he knelt, opening it and pulling out the several vials within. “As agreed upon, for services rendered.”

Brad nodded and bowed deeply to her, “Thank you, Princess Cecily of Valagonia.”

“I always help those who serve my interests,” she replied as she turned to the masses.  The bread was infused with a potent drug cocktail. One that would loosen inhibitions. Make the crowd easier to rile up.

She stepped to the edge of the balcony overlooking the masses, and they let up a raucous cheer. She switched languages to Shereldian, the primary language of her kingdom, named after its last ruler. “My people of Valagonia!” They whooped and hollered, and she reveled in their applause, smiling softly and with as much charm as she could muster. “In the past several years, you have prospered greatly, have you not?” Again, applause. She raised her hands for silence. “You may have heard that we finally have several people willing to repent. Yes, those evil, villainous, dastardly rebels who sought to break our great kingdom into pieces have confessed their sins!” She gestured and the prisoners she had been breaking over the past several months shuffled out in clean but plain clothes. One by one, they stepped next to Cecily and repeated their lines, exhorting her fair treatment, her benevolence, and her right to rule. After all, ten had completed the process, she motioned for them to be released into the city.

But not before signaling Brad. He made sure to shake each of their hands – swiping a nearly undetectable liquid onto their hands. They would fall ill within days and die shortly after. No chance to rebel again if they somehow regained the will to rebel once more. 

She raised her hands once more, “Now…I have some news. You may have heard rumor that the Kingdom of Khrelardia has attacked our borders. This is true.”

The crowd exploded into an uproar. Not just because of national fervor, but also because the additives to the bread had kicked in. Their inhibitions were gone. She could play them like a fiddle.

Using an internal spell, she amplified the power of her vocal cords. Her voice boomed out over the masses. “We will not take this lying down! Already, we begin war preparations. The kingdom needs your help. Go to your local bank and contribute to the war effort. If you cannot give money, then donate supplies. If you have nothing to give, then give your sweat and help us prepare for this inevitable war. And…for those who truly desire to preserve the primacy of Humans on Ghomar, and safeguard Valagonia…enlist.”

At this last word, there were screams from the crowd. 

“Kill them all!”

“Valagonia forever!”

“Human! Human! Human!”

The last chant was picked up. Cecily smiled. She never considered herself a racist…towards Humans, that is. But these…fantasy races…they were too different from her people. Despite her Ruler core nudging her decision making, every decision that involved the non-Human races on Ghomar ended up having complications. Getting rid of them was much easier than trying to resolve those issues. And she felt no remorse, because to her, they weren’t really people.

Plus, it gave her an easy scapegoat if anything ever did go wrong – which didn’t happen…but she was a pragmatist above all else. And having a backup plan was more than reasonable.

She raised her hands once more, “All hail the kingdom of Valagonia!” She stepped away from the balcony as the cheers followed her inside, echoing through the halls. Glancing sideways, she saw that Brad had shadowed her inside, along with her house guard. “Oh, you’re still here,” she said in English.

Brad nodded, “I appreciate you hiring my services. Business has been rough, as I’m sure you are aware of, since you have cracked down on my trade-”

“I have told you before; healthy drugs are allowed in Valagonia. Antibiotics, SSRIs, anything else you can whip up from the flora here on Ghomar. But I will not tolerate this…what were you calling it?”

“Crackling Snippers,” Brad muttered. “What’s the harm? It’s just a buzz. A way to take the edge off after a long day-”

Cecily wheeled on him and filled her voice with as much authority and menace as possible. “You will not produce drugs that harm the populace of Valagonia. I tolerate your presence because the drugs you have designed for medical purposes will be vital in my eventual push to take over Khrelardia.” She turned and kept walking as the cowed man walked hesitantly in her shadow. “If you are interested in more…intoxicating pursuits, then come up with a combat drug. Something that can increase a soldier’s efficacy on the battlefield.” She looked back at him, “But nothing addictive. I won’t have veterans selling their souls to feed their addiction. We saw what that did on Earth with the opioid crisis.”

Brad nodded, “Yeah…Sure. I’ll start working on some combat stimulants.” He was quiet. Meek. A broken man whom she had crushed already.

Cecily smiled and gestured for him to leave, “Good boy. Off you go.” Brad left, and Cecily went to her bedchambers, dismissing her guards at the door before going inside. She stood in front of the mirror as a lady-in-waiting sat head bowed. Switching to Shereldian, she instructed the servant to bring one of her…volunteers. The woman bowed and left in a hurry.

She walked into her closet and switched to her favorite outfit. A day like today, the start of war preparations…well, that deserved something special. Something…momentous to remember the occasion by. She opened the lock box and pulled out her instruments of pain. She walked back to her chamber as the prisoner was brought in by her servant. He was shackled to the cross in the corner, and Cecily removed his blindfold as he screamed against his gag. “Oh, don’t be like that,” she whispered as she caressed his jaw. “Thieves like you don’t belong in my kingdom.” She put her lips right to his ear, and with as much breathiness as she could muster, whispered. “Just like you stole from my people…I’ll be stealing something from you. Let’s start with the toes…”

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