The New Dark Lord: Book 3- Chapter 5 (Patreon)

As far as coronations went, Ado had to admit she was far from pleased with the state of her own. But then there were other concerns which might be raised. Indeed, she’d raised them. Money was among the foremost- much of the royal coffers had been emptied in infrastructural development intended to yield greater returns in the long run. The consequence of this was that they had become reliant on Shaiagrazni’s Empire sustaining them through the short term, something that would prove rather more difficult now that the damned thing had stopped existing.

So she had to improvise, find the money to hold her nation together. Somehow.

In a shocking turn of events, Ado found that much of her people’s wealth was now held not by the royal family but by the richer of its nobility. The ones who’d had sense enough to move afar and hoard their resources, keeping out of Shaiagrazni’s way and below his notice until such a time as the storm, Shaiagrazni, had passed. They were back now, like rats sheltering under a bonfire’s ruins as soon as the fire was gone and the rain coming down. Ado, fortunately, had gained long years of experience in hiding her contempt from such people.

Certainly, she was better to speak with them than her new husband. There were limits to the strategy of beheading all of one’s political opponents.

Today Ado was meeting with Lord Hemron, Balthasey and Gibgra. They were each, individually, wealthier than her. That fact stung, but it had not been so far from the truth even a year ago, before Shaiagrazni’s attack. All of them were bankers, and collectively they controlled more than half the wealth of Aoakanis. She greeted them with a smile, knowing full well how men liked it when women did that. Being liked was, unfortunately, once again among her priorities. All overnight. She hid the bitterness that festered upon the thought, and pushed past to speak.

“Good afternoon my lords.” Ado beamed. 

One smiled back, the others didn’t. Ado continued.

“I’m here to discuss the finances of our great nation, and, as I’m sure the both of you are aware, our coffers have been somewhat diminished by recent events.”

That earned a derisive snort or two.

“Because of Shaiagrazni pissing royal wealth away onto every passing fancy he thought of.” Lord Balthasey cut in. “What was it again? Seventeen thousand silver pieces on schooling, twenty-six thousand on medicine, forty thousand on domestic constructions, just off the top of my head? Surely even a woman has head enough for figures to understand why all your money has disappeared.”

Ado did not grind her teeth, because doing so would erode the pretty smile which worked so well to get morons like these in her lane.

“Of course.” She smiled. “You are astute to have raised the crux of our issue so quickly, and yet, tell me, what do you suppose will happen in ten, twenty years as a result of these projects?”

The lords either snorted or growled at that, as stupid people often did when they were called upon to think. The poor dears just lacked the equipment for it, and Ado almost winced at the sound of unfamiliar exercise straining every fibre of their wits almost to the point of breaking. 

Ado was moments away from capitalising when the pigeon interrupted her. The window rattled as if it were being beaten by a woodpecker, and she whipped around- instincts still active from her dangerous time doing Shaiagrazni’s work- to find the gray bird’s beak rebounding from glass. She crossed the room, letting the thing inside before it broke anything and quickly seeing the message bound to its leg. 

The moment Ado took it off, the pigeon dropped dead. Her breath caught in her throat. Such things were heard of, of course. Pigeons could fly fast and long, covering a hundred miles each day, if not more. But sometimes a hundred miles was too little for a message’s urgency. Magus healers were able to push bodies beyond their limits, and most Kingdoms kept at least one in their court to treat the royals.

So, when a message of particular desperation was sent, its carrier bird might cross two or even three hundred miles in a single day to bring it. But the exhaustion remained. It was an alleviation from fatigue, and the feeling of tiredness, not a change in biology. Seeing the thing drop dead of its own tiredness, Ado was reminded once again why Fleshcrafting was sought by so many.

Then she pushed the thought aside and hastily opened the message.

Mafari lives. Magi are coming for Shaiagrazni allies. Be wary. - G

G, and Ado recognised that sigil at the bottom too. She scrunched the paper up and ate it instantly, earning a bark of shock from the bankers present.

“Have you gone mad, woman!?” One cried. Ado just smiled.

“Terribly sorry my Lord, it must be a bout of womanly hysteria.” Ado headed for the door at as brisk a pace as was possible without drawing any further delays through the alarm of others. “Please excuse me, I think I need to go and have a good cry to get my overwhelming emotions in check.”

The bankers would have to die, she idly knew. There would be little shifting them after this, and she needed their money. But the main priority here was King Galukar’s warning. Magi, sent by Mafari…Ado was about to be attacked by a legend. That had a remarkable way of galvanizing her thoughts.

“My Queen,” A man called from beside her, “Where are you going?”

“I need to see my husband.” Ado replied curtly. “Where is he?”

“But my Queen, what of the mercer’s entourage?”

Ado was a moment away from chastising the man for ignoring her question when a sudden realisation hit her, and she froze.

“The…Foreign mercer’s entourage?”

“Yes.” The servant frowned. “Why-”

The wall behind him came apart in a blasting spray of ruined stone and mortar, littering the corridor with debris, flooding it with dust. Ado stumbled back, the wits shaken from her. The mercer’s entourage had been foreigners all of them, unknown to her and her people and granted entry into the castle.

If there was any group for a pack of magus assassins to impersonate, it would be high-class guests such as those.

And they’d have struck the moment they heard her being addressed.

Ado thrust her arms out and upwards, solidifying the air before her into a wall of ice. Something hit it- flames. The structure came apart, steam seared her forearms and force picked her up to toss her backwards like a thrown javelin. She landed hard, tumbled back, head spinning, wits scattered, mouth full of blood and bearings thrown to the wind. Ado just barely sat up in time to see guards rushing forwards, Knights all of them. One intercepted another blast of flame at the cost of his own life, armour coming apart into a cloud of bright-orange fragments and mangled corpse dropping hard as the others closed on her attackers.

Magi, true magi of Magira, were potent beings. Ado knew better than to try and aid her men. 

She scrambled up, turned and ran. The Knights died screaming behind her, Vigour proving less than half a match for Magiran magic and soon the hall was rumbling again as the magi prepared to destroy her. Even from afar, Ado doubted they’d miss.

Another fireball came streaking for her, and she lanced it with a blast of ice to detonate it prematurely. Felt the sting of heat against her eyes even a dozen paces back, stepped away as more attacks came. A blast of searing acid, which Ado hadn’t the time to deflect with ice and could only watch flying forth right beside the darts of stone torn from the remnants of her castle’s corridor.

Before any of it hit, a new projectile took to the air and smashed into the volley. Pure, white flame.

“Queen Ado.” Rochtai roared, striding out into the hall and seeming ten times his usual height. Robes flowing, beard billowing in the unnatural winds conjured by so much magic meeting so much more, his eyes were like miniature suns, face like a thunderstorm. “Get behind me, run. I will delay them!”

Ado could see her attackers clearly now, three of them. Two were aged men, as might be expected, but a third seemed roughly her own age and, surprisingly, was the strongest of them. 

“I can help.” She snapped, but her master silenced her with a glare. Once a student, always a student, she supposed. Ado scrambled up. “Thank you-”

“GO!” Rochtai roared, fending off a blast of flame from the youngest magus and deflecting it into the wall beside him. An entire stretch of stone larger than a peasant’s cottage was blown outwards, obfuscating the corridor once more with aerial dust and raining fragments. Ado saw no more than that, because she was fleeing without another thought. 

Out through the window, down through the air. She slowed herself with thin platforms of ice, smashing through each one and exhausting her own momentum in the doing of it. She landed hard and sprinted, glancing back to see the castle’s wall blasting outwards.

Her guards were still thin in number, exhausted by Shaiagrazni’s conquest and the battles with the Dark Lord. Of course these men had managed to permeate her defences so well, and of course they were past Rochtai. He had been among the hundred greatest magi alive, but each of these men was formidable and it had been three against one. 

Those formidable magi stared down at Ado now, continuing their pursuit as she stumbled into the woods.

***

Collin hadn’t been in Aoakanis for even a day before someone tried to kill him. It was a bloody relief, if he’d  had to deal with all of the pomp for a single hour more he’d have either killed himself, or killed several other’s selves. 

The magi had knocked on his door first, asking for him by name. Collin had given it, then watched as a blast of lightning tore the thing off its hinges, blew into the room and scattered furniture around its electrical discharge. They forced their way through, tripped the wire, and had just enough time to scream before the hundred or so steel-bound crossbows he’d lined a wall with spat out bolts at more or less equal speed to a Ranger’s own weapon. Some of the projectiles missed, either smashing fist-sized blocks of stone out of the wall or penetrating the thing entirely. Most, though, found their mark, ripping into squishy human bodies and dropping the magic users like sacks of shit. 

Collin came out from his actual desk, which he’d had placed beside a stretch of wooden planking erected and angled to disperse his voice and throw off the aim of anyone who tried to attack him through the door. Sometimes it paid to be prepared.

“How…” One of the men, a magus Collin now saw, coughed as he spoke, blood spurting out onto his ruined robes. “How did you know?”

Collin frowned. “Know what?” A tapping at his window drew focus to the pigeon, which looked about halfway to dying as he took its message and read through. King Galukar’s warning was brief, and clarifying. “Ah, bugger.” He looked at the group, smiling. It really did pay to be prepared sometimes. Now all the people telling him setting up basic security measures able to kill a Fomori could eat their words.

Collin snatched up his bow and quiver, equipped his knives, stepped over the magi while they were busy convulsing and dying, and headed out into the corridor. It was madness, chaos, devastation everywhere as magi swept through the castle and laid it to waste.

Another grin sprouted up on his face. Thank fucking god, he was damned sick of nobby politics.