ROTLE- Chapter 200- Wish To Die (Patreon)

“You know I’ve never like three days without a fourth day?” the master of the Order asked.

Job had no idea what the man was talking about. “I did not know that, master,” he answered calmly, following behind the master. “What of a fifth?”

The master of the Order ignored him, walking down the hallway. He spun a key. It was the only key attached to a massive key ring. The master walked with a bored gait, sighing every now and again.

“Any news on Tarot?” the master asked.

Job had no idea who Tarot was. “Tarot, sir?” he asked, confused.

The master came to a halt and his shoulders drooped. “Any news on Torat?” he asked.

“Oh, instructor Torat,” Job perked up to attention. This was the first thing the master was saying that he understood in the last thirty minutes. “No news, master. But I hear that he has been making good time.”

The master sighed, groaning like a petulant child. “No offence to you,” he said. “But I really dislike you level forty-nines.”

“I’m level forty-two, master,” Job offered.

“I like you level forty-ones even less,” the master groaned. “I don’t see why I have to do this with you. It’s just tiring and stressful.”

He groaned again, reminding Job of a spoilt child he’d known in his hometown before he’d joined the Order. Nobody had liked the child at all.

“My apologies, master,” he said. “I will strive to be better.”

The master tsked. “Ass kisser,” he muttered under his breath.

Job heard it.

The master gave him a flat look. “Remind me why I have to do this with you again?”

“Uhm…” Job didn’t really have an answer for it. Since the master had just treated ass kissing with disdain, he decided to go for honesty. “I have no idea, master. You were the one who woke me up and told me to follow you.”

The master’s jaw dropped in shock. “And you just obeyed?”

“Yes?” Job blinked, confused.

“By the gods, boy, why would you do such a thing?” The master ran a hand down his face. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”

Job was already mentally exhausted dealing with the head of the Order. “They did, master,” he answered.

“I see. You had good parents.”

If this was the kind of person the master was when he was with instructor Torat, Job was beginning to see why the instructor had chosen to go on a very daunting mission rather than stay here.

The master turned suddenly to the wall on the right. “Ah,” he said. “Here we are.”

He was looking at a wall. Job fought the urge to point out that it was just a wall while considering the possibility that the Order might just be led by an overpowered madman. Then the master walked forward and disappeared into the wall.

I stand corrected.

Job followed only to bump into the wall. He paused, looked up at it. Holding out his hand, he touched it. It was a solid wall.

The master’s head popped out of it. “Sorry about that, you can come in.”

Job hesitated for a moment while the master withdrew his head. This time, when he walked in, he did so very carefully.

And just like that, he found himself in an empty room. They were surrounded by nothing but brick walls. The master retrieved the key from his pocket and put it up against the wall. It was too high up to be a keyhole, but Job was done questioning things.

The master brought the key back down. He turned with a frown on his face. It was as if something wasn’t right.

“Hand me that mallet over there will you?” he requested.

The room was empty with only the both of them occupying any space in it. Still, unwilling to question a potentially overpowered madman, Job turned and picked up a mallet.

He paused, staring down at the mallet.

How?

He’d simply turned to bend and pick up what he knew was not there. How the hell was he holding onto a mallet?

“Thank you kindly,” the master said.

Job held the mallet out to him, flabbergasted. The master took it. With the mallet, he turned, placed the key to the wall again in a position that was taller than him, and hammered the key into the wall.

All Job could do was watch in confusion as the master hung up a picture that he had pulled out of nowhere. Just how powerful was the master? Just how confusing was the building that housed the Order?

Job had always known that the Order was powerful and mysterious, but this? This was beyond anything he had ever thought possible.

Done hanging the picture, the master stepped back to admire his work.

“Who would’ve thought a child not even twenty will have a place in the abyss of the Order,” the master mused.

Job froze. He’d heard of the abyss of the Order. But it was nothing but a rumor among the recruits. Rumor had it that it was where the master kept secrets of the Order that he alone knew and was allowed to know. The abyss was nothing but a myth.

Yet, here I am.

It made him feel important as he looked upon the picture. It was a vague description of two people. They stood in a forest clearing each a painting of blue with no distinct feature. One of the stood tall, looking down at the other. The other man was on his knees, looking up at the one that stood before him.

Above the picture, scribbled on the wall, was a title. It read:

The death of the Immortal.

Job could not believe the implication of what the master had said. He took a step towards the painting and the master did not stop him. When he was close enough, he looked up at it.

“A boy brought the Immortal to his knees?” he asked.

“Once,” the master said, “but the Immortal’s the one standing.”

Job peered at the picture and frowned. Both men were a pale blue, the general color of base mana, except one thing.

“What’s wrong with his arm?” he asked. The forearm of the boy on his knees was a sharp black. “Why’s it black?”

“Corruption,” the master answered. “Something that should not be is there.”

Job looked at the master and found the man looking upon the picture with a touch of solemnity. The master was looking at the Immortal.

“He died on his feet?” Job noted.

The master nodded. “As most powerful men pray to do when death finds them.”

There was a moment of reality there, a moment when Job realized that the master was not mad, simply tired. It probably had something to do with the death of someone that was not supposed to be able to die.

“Everyone dies, master,” he said kindly.

“Yes,” the master agreed. “Even the Immortal.”

“Do you…” Job hesitated, then pulled his confidence together. “Do you wish to die on your feet too, master?”

“I wish to die.” The master smiled sadly. “I just wish to die.”

…

In all honesty, the mistake was his fault. Years on Nastild and he still often thought along the lines of someone from Earth every now and again. Just because she was his woman, it did not mean that she was supposed to be weaker than him. On Nastild, it was not women and children first, it was children first. Yes, men still did their best to protect their wives and girlfriends, but it was more from a place of love and not the strong protecting the weak.

The thoughts flowed in his mind as Aiden rode his jepat down an empty road, leading the others as they rode behind him. It was a few days since they left the forest where they had slain Nosrath. They’d run into a few monsters once or twice. The team had been more than happy to silently stand by while Tanor played watch over Zen and Fjord as they fought against the monsters.

While Aiden watched the fight, his mind had continued to look for new ideas. He was at a level where monsters that would be sufficient threat for Fjord and Zen to learn and level up with were practically a waste of time for him. Killing monsters that weak would be a waste of his time—they would add no level to him, not unless he kills a very sufficient size.

They rode past merchants moving from one point to another, most likely going to sell wares that they had bought from one town to another town. They ignored Aiden as easily as Aiden ignored them, his mind lost in thought. The others behind him were more than happy to exchange greetings and information.

Aiden was only half listening to their conversation. Apparently, the news of the death of Nosrath had traveled further than he had expected in such a short time. It was barely three weeks since they’d left the forest. Then there was the news of the Immortal. The death of the Immortal seemed to be a subject. There were already rumors going on about it.

But the important part was the economic impact it had. Kingdoms were slowly beginning to cut ties with the Immortal’s kingdom. Trade routes were being conquered. The king was trying to broker deals and make allies without his usual underlying power of being able to send an unkillable monster after them. Sadly, and unsurprisingly, no kingdom was willing to make any deals.

“There are rumors of an impending war,” an old merchant said, stroking his beard while shaking his head. “All the merchants are pulling their wares out of Talnort. King Terlernor can’t seem to keep anyone in business with Talnort. They say that now that the Immortal is gone, the citizens are rising into a rebellion once again.”

“Why is that?” Ted asked.

“Because he is not the system sanctioned king,” Valdan answered calmly. “And he has been ruling with an iron fist. The citizens still continue to seek out the true king, but there has been no luck so far.”

“They say he killed the true monarch, two generations of them,” the merchant whispered.

Aiden knew the truth, though. The system-sanctioned king was locked away in Terlernor’s dungeon, barely staying alive. He could not remember the man’s name and could not care to. By this time in the timeline, the man would be nothing but a shell of himself, obeying Terlernor out of nothing but the fear of pain. It was sad to think about, but Aiden had no use for the emotion.

The group exchanged some more information with the merchant, before topping it all up with a few purchases, buying food that Zen, Fjord and Feira would eat. Not yet at level fifty, food was still a requirement for them, even if not as urgently needed as it was for those not yet at level ten.

“The man claims a town is not far from here,” Valdan said, riding up to Aiden’s side, Melvet not far behind.

Aiden had heard. He also knew there was a town ahead. It was a resting point where he would proceed to give everyone the instructions necessary for them going forward.

“We will rest at the town,” he told Valdan.

Ted gasped. “No forests tonight?”

Aiden moved his eyes over to him. “Would you like the comfort of the trees, brother?”

“I take it you haven’t been jumped in a long time,” Ted answered with mock vile.

Aiden’s lips twitched against his permission.

“I don’t understand,” Fjord said.

Valdan paused, thoughtful for a moment. Melvet watched him as if he was the most intelligent and powerful being alive. “If I remember correctly,” he said finally, “being jumped means being attacked by multiple people.”

He looked at Aiden for confirmation, and Aiden nodded.

Melvet stroked her cheek, the hero relic of a spear resting casually on her back. “Being jumped. I think I like it.”

Aiden looked at her. She looked so innocent and harmless next to Valdan. Anyone who met her now would think she was some simple lady riding beside her knight with no knowledge of the wickedness of the world.

He could not lie, he was impressed.

Ted rode up to join them as they drew closer to the city. He had a smile on his face that told Aiden whatever was about to be said would be at his expense.

“Did you hear the rumors?” he said happily.

His words got a laugh out of Zen and Estabel and Telmar.

“They say that he cannot be killed,” Telmar declared with mock theatrics.

“That he walks with a thousand men behind him,” Fjord announced unable to help himself.

“With a flick of the wrist, he calls down lightning from the skies and binds his enemies,” Valdan added with a laugh. “That even the ground obeys him.”

“They say he holds magic in one hand and Divinity in the other,” Estabel announced.

Yerit, for all her awkwardness, added a touch of her own. “How else could he have killed the unkillable if the gods did not favor him.”

Aiden sighed.

“Oh, come of it.” Ted patted him on the back. “Soon enough, you’ll belong to the church. Maybe even be canonized. You can replace the [Saint] you took from them.”

Melvet looked at him. “Would you like to join the church? I have a strong enough pull that they can ignore the death of Clerent.”

Aiden, Valdan, Estabel and Tanor froze. Ted too.

The others were none the wiser. In fact, their actions were what left them confused and not Melvet’s words.

As for Melvet, she could not be bothered. “Oh, please,” she said to Valdan, “you know I hold an important position in the church, Val.”

Valdan’s brows furrowed in confusion. “That important?”

“Yep,” she nodded as if nothing was amiss.

“I’m sure we’re missing something,” Feira said. “Does anyone want to enlighten me?”

Oncot could not be bothered to care. He had his eyes on their surroundings, saying nothing as he had done most of the trip. The [Heart of Nosrath] remained in his care, housed by the bag. Fjord and Zen had no idea what was going on. Ultimately, Telma was the one who spoke while Yerit returned to silence.

“Clerent,” she said. “Unless I am wrong, Lord Lacheart did not tell us the name of the [Saint] that he killed.”

“And there are only a handful of people who are informed of the death of a [Saint] when it happens,” Tanor added.

“The [Hierophant],” Aiden said very carefully, “and those delegated into authority by direct contact of the [Hierophant].”

Valdan looked at Melvet. “Mel?”

She sighed. “I would like to put it on the record that I am not the [Hierophant].”

“But you are important enough,” Valdan said.

“The church can function without me, I swear, babe. They don’t really need me to be hanging around. I’m more ceremonial than anything.”

“But you haven’t gone to church since we met.”

Melvet reached out and held his hand. She brought it up to her chest while he continued to stare at her in horror, as if he had made her walk away from her family for him.

“Val, the gods are in our hearts,” she said. “They are with us wherever we are. We do not need to be in the church to be in the presence of the gods.”

Ted snorted as if he had not even expected to. “They teach that in every Sunday school.”

“I’m serious, babe,” Melvet continued, ignoring him. “I am nothing but a place holder in the church. They haven’t needed me for anything in forever. Please don’t tell me to go back.”

Her fear was justified. Being a man of honor and a person that kept his word, Aiden would not be surprised if Valdan suddenly decided that she had to return to her place in the church. And judging by how she treats him, she would obey even if she didn’t want to.

Love like that was envious. Once upon a time Aiden thought he’d had love like that. But age had taught him that what he had with Tasha was not love, not the type that was romantic. They were young and had been each other’s only friends. Then there had been Shewa on Nastild, good ol’ toxic Shewa.

Shaking his head, he banished his revelry aside in time for Valdan’s answer.

“You are sure they don’t need you?” he asked her.

Melvet nodded. “I promise.”

It was a while before Valdan let out a sigh. “Then I understand.”

“Thank you,” Melvet said before kissing his hand and releasing it.

Estabel shook her head. “Now that the lovers have stopped shoving their love in our faces, what are you going to do about the rumors, Lord Lacheart?”

“I say he let them be,” Telma advised.

Ted gave her a flat look. “Remind me again,” he said. “Why exactly have I not taken your head off?”

Telma grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Really?” Ted cocked a brow.

“Really,” Telma returned. “I’ll gut you before you have the chance—”

She fell silent as she felt something sharp press gently against her neck. All eyes turned to her because of her silence and Aiden sighed.

“Ted,” he said.

“You are oddly forgiving, Aida,” Ted said.

“She’s young,” Aiden answered. “Some would argue that her actions can be foolish.”

“I’m young too. My actions can be stupid.”

There was a scorpion-like creature poised on Telma’s neck. The point of its sting was pressed against her skin, any real force and it would break the skin and poison her.

“People,” Ted continued, “would argue that when faced with someone that has tried to kill my brother twice, I am not expected to be in the right frame of mind.”

Melvet nodded sagely. “That is true.”

“Family can make us do stupid things,” Estabel agreed.

Feira suddenly looked very angry at the presentation of this piece of information. Her eyes hardened as she looked at Telma. “I definitely won’t miss her.”

Her words surprised Zen, but he said nothing.

“She lives,” Aiden said with a finality. “She’s after my life, not any of yours.”

“And why should that make us feel better?” Valdan asked simply.

Aiden shrugged. “Because I have the power to kill her without batting an eye whenever I want. She is not a threat.”

“That’s… dark,” Yerit said.

Zen chuckled. “Aiden’s always a bit dark.”

They had no idea.

Still, the rumors were an interesting thing. Aiden would have to work on them. If he allowed the rumors to spread and recreate themselves, only God knew what kind of title he would end up with if he even ended up with any. The interesting part about people given titles was that everybody that believed the rumor had to believe one universal story that left them with a significant impression. The story did not have to be exactly the same, but it had to carry strong enough similarities of what was important.

For example, [Hand of Mercy]. It carried the importance that he was in a duel, he won the duel, he did so through the use of slaps, and he did not kill his opponent. Anything else people believed in between did not matter. For the Immortal, how he killed him was important, so was where they met and how many people fought.

If these things did not work together, he would gain no titles.

The rest of the ride was calmer. The conversations eventually turned to simpler things. Zen complained about not being happy that they’d left him and Feira in some corner in the forest and told them not to move. Ted explained that they were safe. Feira complained that they were terrified. Elami ignored them, contemplative the entire journey.

Yerit spoke about what it would mean for the economy if any kingdom went to war with Talnort and won. How there would have to be a redesigning of the map. Kingdoms would share the spoils of war, dissolving Talnort entirely. Estabel said it was none of her business and speculation would help nobody.

Tanor spoke of some kind of training and a specific merchant he would have to talk to in order to gain some level of information that was important after the demise of someone as strong as the Immortal.

Aiden allowed them to converse, not truly joining in. Valdan and Melvet rode in each other’s company like love struck teenagers. In truth, Valdan looked like any regular knight out and about with his lady. Melvet was the love-struck teenager, often teasing and poking him, trying to get some kind of reaction out of him. On two occasions Aiden had caught her trying to tickle the knight.

It was interesting to see a human being alive that could bully Valdan with such ease and was allowed to. Despite being stronger than the knight, they still carried the natural air of a powerful man and his beloved woman that any could see on Earth.

It pleased Aiden.

But as pleased as he was there were other things that bothered him. Melvet had used an enchantment of greater effect at level two hundred and eighty-nine. And he had confirmed from Valdan that she was not of the [Enchanter] class. What no one seemed to understand was that no matter how much she grew her [Enchant] skill, not being an [Enchanter] meant that she was not supposed to be so powerful with an [Enchant] skill so strong. It just didn’t make sense.

Then there was the knowledge of delegation of authority from the [Hierophant]. While the level of authority she had was given to only the important few, there were often outliers who held such authorities.

Aiden watched Melvet laugh with Valdan as they entered the city, eyes scanning for a suitable inn for a group of people of their number, and wondered who she was. Because there were only two types of people he knew the [Hierophant] delegated high levels of authority to.

So what was she? A [Cardinal] or the [Thirteenth]?