Morning everyone. I hope you are all having a fantastic Monday.
I'm here for my semi-regular scheduled quick update and requests.
First, the new story is taking me a bit longer to do than I was expecting. One, because I'm being partially lazy about it, and two, because I'm not sure how I want to go about it. But I'll figure it out, so don't worry.
So, the next thing on the agenda. I would very much like it if everyone who hasn't already could leave a review here on RR. Now, why? "I gave you the stars/rating. Why a review?"
And that's because RR values a review more than anything. I think the order is Advanced Reviews>Reviews>Ratings. Maybe I'm wrong, but that appears to be the case from what I can guestimate.
Anyways, I look forward to your reviews/support, and I hope you enjoy this chapter and the next :)
Royal Road Link-https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/48211/deathworld-commando-reborn
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I found myself being guided through a luxurious mansion just outside the palace. The rhythm of my feet striking the gray and black marble floors was pleasing as I took in the building. It was filled with ornate paintings hung in golden frames with hand-crafted designs. Some of them were family portraits of the Maxwells. I tried to stop and get a better look, but the maid guiding me to the meeting turned on her heels with a strained smile.
If the queen expects me, I should expect the servants to be on edge.
I curbed my curiosity and was led up a small set of stairs. The marble flooring was covered with lush furs and pelts of various monsters and animals. The mansion wasn't all that big, all things considered. Probably just slightly big enough to even be considered a mansion.
The maid gave me a quick explanation that this was the winter home of the royal family, so maybe this place was supposed to elicit more of a… home-like feeling. I guess it feels like a nice home when you compare it to the royal palace. That place was so big you could probably go a few days without seeing your loved ones.
Still, this place is a bit too rich for my blood.
The home was surprisingly quiet as well. I only saw a super small selection of maids and of course, Royal Praetorian guards. But, when I looked over the edge and into the open space courtyard below, a short older man looked up at me and waved. He was pruning a white bush into the shape of a Gryphon. And although the garden was small, it was quaint and most likely tended by that man alone or perhaps him and a small team.
I returned the wave and kept walking when the sound of footsteps approached us. They were too heavy to belong to a simple maid or groundskeeper. And they lacked the trademark jingle of armor. I eyed the corner of the hallway until a figure quickly rounded the bend.
His fiery red hair was slicked back with enough grease to light a candle, and he walked with a tall back. He was rather tall, and despite knowing he was in his early twenties, the man still looked young in the face. His black, red, and gold uniform was somewhere between a military parade uniform mixed with a gaudy royal. Aiguillettes hung off the oversized golden pauldron that sat on one shoulder. His green eyes went wide with surprise for just a moment when he saw me, but a cold indifference spread across his stoic features.
Behind him trailing close, was an even taller man with broad shoulders and a slightly scarred face. His brown hair was cut short, and a thick mustache rested above his lip. His black and red uniform was far more modest than his counterpart and was a simple military uniform that looked the part of a general. Yet, even four years later, the man still radiated the powerful aura of a veteran soldier and War God.
His warm brown eyes locked onto me, but his stoic face never wavered. His gaze seemed to pierce my soul, and I felt his bloodlust blanket me, but it was nothing compared to what I had felt in the past. I wasn't sure whether he was holding back or this was the extent of his power, but I had a feeling it was the former.
The maid stood to the side of the hallway and bowed deeply, greeting the young prince. "Good afternoon, Prince Xander."
Price Xander Constantine Maxwell jerked his head to nod at the woman's greeting but stopped himself. Instead, he snapped his neck back and stood even taller as he continued to walk past me. His green eyes, which were once filled with warmth, seemed cold now as he gazed at me from the side.
At least, I think they are supposed to feel cold…I don't get this guy one bit. What happened to him?
The two only made it a few paces until they both abruptly stopped. I kept watching their backs when the prince turned on his heels, his boots clacking against the floor as he planted his foot. He glared at me, and we entered a silent staring contest for a few moments.
Is he…trying to intimidate me? What is going on…
The prince cleared his throat and remained glaring at me. "So it really is you."
I remember the prince being much more soft-spoken than this. Is he purposely trying to make his voice sound rougher? Well, he's doing a pretty lousy job if he is.
Not only that, he wasn't even feigning anger at me. Although I'm noble now, I'm still leagues below a prince in the social hierarchy. The prince should have raised his nose at me, demanding that I treat him with the proper respect. After all, manners dictated that I should have greeted the young prince in much the same way as the maid, but I didn't bother.
I didn't feel the need to indulge him.
"I suppose it is," I responded dryly.
The prince looked taken back at my curt response. War God Vasquez just raised his bushy eyebrows at me. The prince seemed to stutter around in his own mind as he attempted to formulate a response, but none came. For some reason, I felt he wanted to say something or perhaps tell me something.
Prince Xander just sighed and turned his back to me. "I suppose I shouldn't expect anything from a mindless Gutter Elf. Let's go."
And with that, the two departed and rounded the bend to the stairs. Again, I felt weird, almost as weird as the whole chance meeting. Even the Prince's final words to me felt off.
I've been alive for almost fifteen years in this world. I've heard my fair share of derogatory terms flung my way. Typically when people said those words, they had an…edge to them. They said it with the intention of hurting my pride or perhaps my feelings. I suppose the best way to put it is that when they said those hateful words, it felt like they meant it.
But when Prince Xander said them, I didn't get the impression that he meant what he said. It lacked the edge to them…the hate, which was odd, almost as bizarre as him.
Is the prince pretending to be someone he isn't? Is he being controlled? What happened to the kind young man I saw at Adria's birthday party five years ago?
I had these thoughts as the maid called out to me again. I mindlessly trailed behind her as I tried to piece these things together when I felt a burst of bloodlust to my right. But when my head snapped toward it, all I saw was a wooden wall covered by a tapestry.
The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention as I threw myself backward in just the nick of time. The ground shook, and the wall that was previously in front of me exploded into splinters. A muscular, tanned hand burst through the wall, grasping right where my head was.
By the time I was partially rolled back onto my feet, the wall was entirely gone, and I was showered with wooden splinters. I barely caught a glimpse of shiny white teeth and heard a booming voice chuckle.
"Nice!"
"Not nice!" I shot back.
I couldn't stand up straight and opted to duck over the strike. I felt the force of the blow whip my hair, and when I looked up, a large arm had swooped just over my head. Now that I had suddenly been forced into fight and flight, and the flight wasn't working out, I opted to fight.
I thrust my hand up at his elbow joint, hoping to dislocate it, but when my fist hit his below, my hand buckled. My arm recoiled from the shockwave, and I felt it in the depth of my bones. It felt as if I had hit a solid wall, and I felt my hand break from the force of my own strike.
What the—what's this purple—it's…crystal magic?
"Even nicer!" he shouted.
Not nicer!
I hadn't even felt a spell core form. I tried stretching my leg out to kick away from him, but my world spun, and I saw nothing but stars. I blacked out for a moment and felt weightless and realized I had been knocked over the edge and was currently falling into the courtyard.
I felt the air leave my lungs as I impacted the cold hard soil. I gasped for air, and my eyes met the old groundskeeper. He gave me a wry smile and turned his attention back to pruning.
What! Call for help! Please…your master is trying to kill me! At least that's what I wanted to yell, but I found breathing difficult.
I jumped to my feet as the earth shook once more, and I was lifted off the ground by my shoulder. He was only using a single hand. His strength and speed were monstrous, beyond what any Human should be capable of.
"That was amazing, Kaladin! Did you hear me coming? Not many people can dodge my attacks like that!" King Maxwell shouted with a wide approving smile.
"Just…felt you coming…Your High—"
The king shook me like a ragdoll. His smile turned into a disapproving one. "I believe I told you to call me Bishop!"
I tried to suck in more air but wheezed in pain instead. Perhaps if I stayed on the ground, Bishop would stop attacking me.
The king's green eyes shone a light of understanding as he called out to someone. "Arbra! I may have gone too far. Come heal him!"
Too far is an understatement…I think I broke some ribs.
The pitter-patter of rushing feet was quick as the maid who had been guiding me rushed down the stairs into the courtyard. King Maxwell dropped me to my knees, and the maid quickly crouched down in front of me with an apologetic look.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…he told me not to say anything," she muttered frantically as her light magic healed my broken bones.
The warmth of light magic spread through my body from her cold hands, and I gasped for a fresh breath of clean air. Now that the pressure of my broken ribs was no longer crushing me, I felt much better.
"Thank you," I told the maid.
She nodded meekly and stood away from me, and I was quickly hoisted to my feet by two massive hands. "It's good to see you, Kaladin! Are you ready for round two?!"
"Round two! Hold on—"
I didn't get to vocalize my complaints as the king took a quick step back. Well, it looked as if he only took a step, but it was actually many steps that were just so fast I could barely keep track of them.
His feet dug into the ground as he launched toward me like a speeding rocket. I honestly was barely able to see his fist that was being directed straight at my head. I dodged to the side with the minimal amount of movement I could muster, and instead of trying to brute force attack him like last time, I would be a bit smarter about things.
The king's fist went right over me, and I lowered my body. He ran into me with enough force to make my bones and joints creak, but it seemed like he had slowed down before impact. I forced mana into my legs and, like a lever, tossed the king over me.
I caught a glimpse of his face. He looked like a child with his ear-to-ear smile. He even had time to hold his golden laurel crown to his head. But as he was flipping over me, he gripped me with his free hand.
And tossed me.
I wasn't some child anymore. I was over six foot and probably weighed somewhere around two hundred and thirty or forty pounds. Yet, this man was so strong that he could grab me with a single hand and toss me while flying through the air. War Gods are just…not Human.
I felt weightless for the second time again today. The rushing air roared in my ears. At least I was lucky enough to slam into a door and not a wall. The gray wooden door gave away, and I rolled into the room, stopping at the feet of somebody.
His dark brown eyes seemed to smile at me as he took a sip from a delectate white cup in his frail old hands. He stroked his white beard and turned his attention to the busted-down door.
King Maxwell burst into the room, but his smile faded quickly, and a moment of panic struck him. "I'm so sorry, Master. I didn't know—"
The old man was familiar to me. I knew him as Ren's old mentor from The Mists. I believe she called him Master Maran. But to see such a reaction from King Maxwell…and for him to call him master, now that was something.
Master Maran chuckled to himself and gently set down his white cup onto a matching saucer. "Yage, Yakub, would you two mind playing with the king for a while?"
Two sets of groans echoed out in the room as two young men rolled their heads. They were sitting in chairs adjacent to the old man, and they both wore identical blue robes. Their long black hair flowed to their shoulders, and they looked to be around their twenties as well as brothers. One had a small black mustache, and the other was clean-shaven.
"Please…father…do we have to?" the younger of the two men asked pleadingly.
"It's just for a few moments," he said.
"That's the problem. We are only going to last a few moments," the older one groaned.
"And that's a problem, my son. How do you ever expect to find a woman with that attitude?" the old man chided.
The older son deflated and let out a long-winded groan. "Master, I'm not finished with Kaladin yet. He lied to me and worked out without me," the king whined.
That's what this is about? How does—oh, right…he is stalking me. I sort of forgot about that.
"Run along now, Bishop. Teach these two sons of mine something while I speak with Kaladin here," Master Maran said with a wave of his hand.
King Maxwell nodded, but I didn't miss the stink eye he gave me. He patted the two men on the backs and gave a small chuckle. "I suppose you'll do." Yage and Yakub both shuddered from the King's comment.
Their father just smiled and waved at their retreating backs, but the king suddenly stopped and pointed a finger at me. "Don't you dare run away. I'll be back for you soon."
I sank into a chair next to Master Maran and just nodded. I felt like I was getting whiplash from the sudden turn of events. One moment I'm going shopping with my family. The next, I'm getting summoned by the queen only to get into a verbal spat with the prince, followed by being attacked by the king…what a day.
Once the three left, I turned to the old man. "Thanks for the save back there. I thought he would break me…well, break me even more than he already did."
The old man chuckled. "Don't worry. If that man knows one thing, it's how to duel someone properly. He'd never let harm come to you…or should I say serious harm? Yes, that sounds about right."
I'd say getting my ribs broken is pretty serious…but I guess he had a light mage on standby. Gah…Sylvia is going to kill me when she finds out.
I heard the rattling of cups, and the old man poured a fresh cup of what I assumed to be tea for me. His hands shook while he poured but not a single drop of the brown liquid spilled from the container. I think I even sensed a hint of a spell being used, but it was faint, and I had no intention of turning my Soul Sight on in the presence of even a former War God. I had learned my lesson.
He placed the cup onto a saucer and, his hands shaking, handed me the cup. But despite his shakes…the liquid that was near the brim remained tranquil. He must have been using magic. "Some tea?" he asked, his voice warm and friendly.
"I don't typically enjoy tea…sorry," I apologized. "And how is it that you know the king on a first-name basis?"
I felt somewhat bad for having an old man pour me a cup of tea only to reject it. But he should have asked. Besides, it would be wasted on me. But I also wanted to know this weird power dynamic between this ancient man and the king of Luminar.
But he didn't seem mad at all. If anything, the smile behind his long white beard seemed to grow as he laughed a little. "That's because you haven't had good tea. Here, let me show you."
He offered the cup to me once more, and I gingerly accepted it, not wanting to turn him down a second time. "And to answer your question, I've known young Maxwell since he was but a boy. I trained him. Well, to be honest, I tried to train him. I more or less taught him how to act as a warrior, not how to be a warrior. Our fighting techniques are too much of polar opposites for me to be considered his master in that regard. Besides, he was a natural genius when it came to his own fighting style."
I suppose I can see that. The king fights in a very interesting way. I wasn't sure if he was holding back against me or if that was just how he fought, but I didn't get the impression he was all that technical in hand-to-hand combat. There was no doubt in mind that King Maxwell was unbelievably strong and fast. Faster and stronger than any person I had met. But if I were to strip him of his War God powers and fight him on an equal playing field, I'm confident that I would prevail.
But that's not how this world works. His power can overwhelm my technique with ease. And there is still his crystal magic to consider…it was almost like he did it subconsciously.
I sighed internally as I stared into the warm dark liquid. Although I didn't like tea, I didn't exactly hate it. It's not like it tastes that bad…it's just not that good, in my opinion. I feel like people drink it out of tradition more than anything.
I took a sip nonetheless and was pleasantly surprised by the taste. It wasn't all that bitter but still had a strong tea taste. "Is it to your liking? I hope I haven't offended the Dragon Slayer with my skills," he chuckled.
I set the cup back into the saucer with a soft clink. "It's the best cup of tea I've ever had. Can't say it's my favorite drink, but it's a cut above the rest."
The old man chuckled once more and sank into his chair. "That's good to hear. Do you mind me asking what your favorite drink is? Perhaps it's a Luminarian wine from the coast? Or maybe a stronger drink from Krunbar?"
"No, none of that. Just water is fine with me," I stated nonchalantly.
Master Maran stood up in his seat a bit more and eyed me suspiciously, but that faded away into a smile followed by a chuckle into a slight cough. "Ah…she did say you were a relatively straightforward man. I suppose that extends to your tastes as well."
"She? Are you talking about Ren? Does the princess talk about me often?" I asked curiously.
"We've had some catching up to do recently, and Arene had nothing but the highest praise for you. However, once the conversation turned to you, I was afraid she would pass out from not breathing," he responded with a fondness to his voice.
"Ah…that's a bit embarrassing," I said while scratching my head.
"Don't be. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." Master Maran's eyed lock onto mine, and I felt the weight of his gaze. "I heard about the attack by that traitorous snake from Luminar. To think that boy was pretending to be her friend for all those years…" he said, his voice full of frustration.
But he sighed, and a smile returned to his lips. "However, thank you for training and taking care of Arene in my stead. Hearing that she had a kind yet strict mentor was music to these old ears. A mentor that was able to show Arene her true value, if only a little. I'll have to ask that you continue to do so in the future."
"In…the future? What about you? You've returned from a long journey, haven't you?" I asked.
His smile turned bitter. "I have. And Arene and I have already said our goodbyes for the last time. My brother calls on me, and I must return to my homeland. Dragon's Rest is becoming…restless…and I must see to its protection."
A sort of melancholic mood settled over us. I wanted to object, but I could hear the determination in his tired voice. There was no point in me getting involved with Ren's personal matters. And this old man clearly had a mission, a goal in mind. There was no way I would be able to shake his conviction. That's the feeling I got when I listened to him speak.
"That's the dungeon in the middle of The Mists. What's wrong with it?" I asked, turning the subject away from Ren.
"Just more monster activity than usual. Nothing a Dragon Slayer such as yourself needs to worry about." The old man took another sip from his tea with a sigh. "Can I make another request of you, Kaladin?"
"I'm not sure if I can follow through on it, but if it's within my power, I suppose I can at least try. Of course, that all depends on what you are asking…I don't blindly follow orders," I said sternly.
The old man nodded to himself with a laugh. "An order? It appears she was right about many things. But I believe I was asking for a favor, young man. A selfish one at that, but just a favor. These old bones wouldn't dare to order around a man like yourself. And I believe it to be within your power. You've already dipped your toes in, so to speak."
I took a deep breath to motion for the old man to continue. "I know I asked you to continue to mentor Arene, but I would like you to do more. I would very much hope you could be the one to help her."
"To help her…is there something wrong with her?" I questioned.
He shrugged at my question. "I'm sure you've seen it yourself. But perhaps I should paint a picture…"
I felt a spell core form near me, and I watched as the steam from the hot kettle rolled around into a cloud next to Master Maran. Then, the steam took a more…mist-like form, and a tendril broke off from the cloud and settled onto the floor in front of us.
The mist formed into a small bird no larger than the size of my fist. The little mist conjuration bounced around almost as a real living bird would.
"You see… as long as I've known her, she has been a free spirit."
The mist around the bird formed into misty mountains, and the bird started flying amongst the scenery. Then it reshaped once more; the mist mountains fell to the floor, forming a rolling sea of white mist. The same bird from before had grown slightly bigger as it flew low across the ocean as if tempting it.
"She was born for adventure. To explore the world in all of its beauty. It's what her heart always wanted, that much, I know for sure. And I'll tell you how I know this," Master Maran said, his voice soft as he recalled the past.
The bird disappeared into the waves, and a boat took its place. A small smokey figure opened a barrel on the ship, and the bird escaped from it and took to the air.
"When I found her in the barrel on that trip, I didn't find a crying child begging to be returned home. Instead, I found a small girl with a smile so wide I thought she had gone insane. But she hadn't gone insane. She was excited, more excited than I ever saw her in the palace that she called home. She danced on the deck in bliss, taking in the sight of the seas. When monsters attacked, she didn't cower away under the deck. Instead, she watched the warriors fight with enraptured eyes. Even though it was hardly a place for a little girl, she never once felt out of place."
The ocean and boat waved and wobbled, then disappeared into a cloud that consumed the bird—the mist formed into a ball once more. The misty ball leaked its content, and the mist tendrils created small birds again, but they looked different from the original in shape and general appearance. They also seemed…injured somehow as they rolled across the floor, flapping a damaged-looking wing.
"Even despite her yearning for adventuring, her heart was never poisoned by the bliss of freedom and exploring the great unknown. She wasn't blind to the people closest to her."
The bird returned and began nursing the other birds back to health. It was like time had been scrubbed forward, and all the birds were flying together in a blink of an eye. "But then things changed…"
The scene before us changed, and the bird was now in what looked to be a cage. "For some reason or another, she found herself in a cage. This cage wasn't forced upon her by anyone. No, it was a self-imposed one."
A small door to the mist cage appeared and opened, but the bird made no moves to leave. "Perhaps it's her sense of honor, or maybe her kind heart is weighing heavily on her mind. As you know, she is a princess…" A small crown made of a mist formed on the bird's head. "Her goal is pure. Her mission is just. Nobody would ever tell her she is on the wrong path because how could they?"
Master Maran posed that question to me. I know my feelings on the matter. I know what I would choose. So I decided to play a bit of devil's advocate with the old man.
"Even though you say that sometimes the things we must do are better than things we want to do. Is it wrong of her to make such a choice?" I questioned.
The old man laughed bitterly. "Perhaps. I suppose this is why I'm making this selfish request. Arene was like the daughter I never had. I lost my first wife when we were young. Maybe this old fool is just trying to live another life through an even younger fool."
Well, at least he's honest. I once lived a life of duty. I served to the end of my last breath, and for that, I received nothing but emptiness and betrayal. A hollow life, barely worth living.
He sighed, so I posed another question, this one more serious. "I understand what you are saying. I've seen these things you describe in Ren. But can I really be the one to help her? I've barely just started helping myself…you are putting too much faith in me."
Master Maran let out a breath through his nose. It wasn't quite a sigh, but it seemed to put him in a contemplative mood. "Maybe you're right. But I'm far too old to be doing this for her. The connection she and I have is not that of father and daughter but of master and student. A master is not meant to alter the path of the student for his own personal gain. It's his job to guide the pupil, shape them into a better version of themselves, and better fight the obstacles that lay before them. At least, that's what I believe. And I believe that you can help her, Kaladin."
It sounds like he is imposing his own self-restrictions.
I eyed the old man suspiciously, but he just smiled. "It's true. Maybe you won't do it today. You probably won't even do it tomorrow or the next. But if you are to stay by Arene's side, I'm sure a day will come when you can help free her from herself."
Another mist tendril leaked from the ball and onto the floor. Another bird, this one colored black, appeared. It was much larger than the tiny little bird. I chuckled internally at the depiction of a bird me.
The black bird bounced up and down a few times, seemingly speaking to the other bird without words. Eventually, after some more coaxing, the bird left its cage. The mist from the birds fell to the floor, as well as the ball. Finally, the magic mist fanned out onto the ground, disappearing for good.
Tiny beads of sweat rolled down the old man's face. "Well, now you know. Whether you take on this request is up to you. But if Arene was right about the kind of man you are, I already know your answer."
"Let's hope so," I said softly.
Master Maran coughed to clear his throat and took another sip from his tea. "I suppose it's about time. They lasted longer than I anticipated. I may be able to make good men out of those two before I breathe my last breath."
And as if on cue, the broken doors to the room splintered and broke across. The younger of the brothers was the first to land, and his older brother wasn't far behind him, landing on top of the former with a pained groan.
King Maxwell stood in the door frame with a wide smile. "You two have improved! You are no longer little boys waddling around the encampment! Good for you!"
They let out groans of pain in perfect unison, and King Maxwell's eyes met mine. "Now then…where were we. I suppose I've gotten my fighting out of the way. Perhaps a workout session, Kaladin?"
"Ah, yes…that would be much better. But what about the queen? I was—"
"Have no fear! She is well aware of my plans! I made sure of it this time. I can't surprise her all the time, she may just leave me!"
Great…but wait a moment.
"Kin—err, Bishop. I know I promised to write down some workouts for you, but I have another proposition. One I fully plan on abiding by."
The king rolled his large hand and arm at me. "Go on."
"I'll set off days where you can join me for workouts. I typically go in the mornings to the school to workout. It shouldn't be a problem for you to attend…but I have a request."
He nodded approvingly. "Come now, say what you have to say."
"I want you to help somebody. I need you to train them to be a War God. If you do that, I'll follow any request you make of me….within reason."
"Any request?" he asked, somewhat surprised.
"Within reason…" I repeated.
The king mulled my words over and seemed excited, but it faded quickly. "Although I would love nothing more than to be owed a favor by you, I'm afraid making somebody a War God is just impossible. I'm not a god, Kaladin."
"Don't worry. I already know she is a War God. She has the aptitude. She is just missing…something. And sadly, I don't know what the something is," I said.
"How can you be so sure…" Master Maran asked from beside me.
I tapped my left eye. "Because I have my own secrets."