Prince of the Kingdom
“Are we doing this?” Rin’s voice is low but barely restrained in its anticipation. You shake your head, causing her shoulders to tremble indignantly. Unfortunately for Rin, you don’t want things to get too messy just yet. She can take it out on some other soldiers later. You shake your head. “Wait. Let me handle this.” An unintelligibly muttered complaint on her lips, Rin and Petze retreat further into the woods.
Enter dreamless stasis; let flesh turn into stone. The moment you begin focusing on your spell, the cloak of invisibility fades. Unsurprisingly, this surprises the soldiers. They back away, shocked by the sight of a hooded stranger appearing out of thin air. “Wh-Who are you? Are you a Methussian mage?” demands one of the soldiers.
You ignore them and murmur, “Petrification.” The magic courses through your arm and concentrates in your hand, particularly at the tips of your fingers. It is a strong spell, but the downside is that you would have to touch your opponent for it to work.
“I said, who are you?”
“Don’t bother asking, he’ll be just as dead as the rest of the village soon. We have to finish him off anyway.”
With the heavy cloak and the folded wing in the way, you cannot move as freely as you like. Even so, these fodder should not be able to keep up; your speed is not much diminished from your hero days. Which, granted, was not that all long ago. Two, maybe three weeks, tops. That idle thought in your mind, you move, leaping over the twins. The soldiers draw back from your landing spot as one – they are quite well-trained – before lunging forward with concerted stabs from three directions, attempting to impale you before you can recover. The memory of your training with Rurik kicks in. Twisting your body, you dance past their thrusting blades and grab a swordarm that has overreached. The magic takes effect instantly: there will be no problems with their magical resistance, it seems. Like an advancing wave, the stone swiftly replaces the man’s flesh, spreading outwards from the point of contact.
“Wh-What? Gods help us!”
“He just turned into a statue, Sergeant!”
“What kind of fiendish magic is this?”
You cast the spell again – “Petrification” – and while they are still shocked from their comrade’s transformation, you grab one of them by the throat. You let go, and again, repeat the spell.
“M-Monster!” This time, the last man turns to flee, dropping his sword in the process. You catch up to him before he has taken barely a step, tapping his back in a friendly manner. He, too, petrifies. And with that, it is all over; there is nothing left but the wind carrying the screams of the dying in the distance and the acrid smell of burning homes, though that is not your fault at all. You dust off your hands, looking at your handiwork.
They really do make for ugly statues.
Turning around, you walk back to the two siblings. You saved them, and perhaps you could make use of them, but you hardly know where to start. You have never been very good with children – they tend to be irrational and too much of a hassle to deal with. The boy cowers fearfully at you as you approach, his eyes not daring to meet yours. The girl, on the other hand, is staring at you fiercely. There are shades of fear, yes, but also a hint of a strong will beneath that delicate exterior. “Are you a mage?” she asks cautiously. “That was magic, right? Turning those men into stone?”
“Don’t… don’t be rude, sis! Th-thank you for saving us, sir,” mumbles the boy. He introduces himself: “I’m Arlin, my sister is Aria. We live in that village.”
Aria nods curtly and stands up. Dragging her brother with her while still keeping a careful eye on you, she pokes one of the former soldiers with a finger. “It’s… real stone,” she murmurs in amazement. Then, a wrathful scowl twists her face, and she shoves the statue. It topples over and shatters on the ground. Aria goes and knocks over another of the petrified soldiers, Arlin following behind her, pleading for her to stop.
“Sis! Don’t do this!”
“They killed Dad, this is the least that they deserve! Besides, who cares what I do to these scum?” Aria kicks one of the broken limbs, sending it rolling a short distance away. Then, she bends over and clutches her toes in pain, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. You are not sure whether they are tears of anger, pain, or sorrow.
“Technically, I made those statues, so they belong to me,” you call out.
”You… you are not going to ask us for payment, are you?” whimpers Arlin. “We have no money, sir…”
Well, perhaps not him, but if you were five years younger you would definitely be all over his sister as payment. Of course, you don’t tell him that… but even so, the siblings seem to be shrinking away from you.
“There is that creepy look on your face again,” says Rin, appearing from the trees. Petze is smartly staying hidden as per your instructions, but you suppose the demon princess cannot be ordered around that easily. “What do we do with these mewling manlings? By your expression, I assume it is something good for you, and not so good for them, am I right?”
“Well…”
A horn blows, interrupting the noises of the usual marauding. You look at the village: a new band of riders have arrived, sweeping into the village and battling the raiders. The shining armour and gleaming flag, embroidered with a golden lion, indicate these as knights of some order. Probably belonging to Methuss. There are not many of them, perhaps about ten or so, against perhaps thirty of the enemy, but they seem confident they can send the bandits packing, charging in with abandon. One of the knights breaks off from the group and rides in your direction, a second one soon following after. It looks like you have been spotted, and have presented enough of a curiosity for them to investigate.
It is a bit too late to hide. You can sense Rin’s growing bloodlust.
The two knights reach you in no time at all. The lead knight rears his horse, a gallant white charger, and stops at a safe and polite distance. “Greetings! Are you villagers of Erise?” He removes his helmet, revealing a young man close to your age, sporting beautiful blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He is not Kyle, but he instantly reminds you of him, and your mood worsens ever so slightly.
“You are… Your Royal Highness!” Arlin goes down on his knees, dragging a reluctant Aria together with him. “Why would you be here?”
“His Majesty sent me to subjugate the bandits plaguing our remote villages. I apologize for being so late, but rest assured that my men will save the day. Each of them can fight a hundred men!” Giving them a kind, reassuring nod, he turns his attention from the children to you and Rin – it is clear to you that he did not come here because of the two children, despite his politeness to them, but because of you.
“I am Farland Yuiry, Sixth Prince of the House of Yuiry who rule the land of Methuss. Pray, good man, would you introduce yourself?”
“Hm? Me?” Right, royalty. His similarity to Kyle is growing by the minute. Besides you, Rin has her arms crossed and her foot tapping in impatience. “I am just a wandering traveller.”
“Such impudence!” scolds the prince’s companion. “Kneel when the prince addresses you! And remove that hood, hiding your face is the utmost disrespect!” From the sound of the voice… probably a woman. Your ears have been trained in this. You glance at the armour that hides her body, wondering idly what curves lie beneath.
“No, it is fine. You appear to be foreign to our lands. I can tell that I do not… or cannot rule over you. Forgive my adjutant, she can be overly concerned with etiquette. But tell me this, please… you are a mage, are you not?”
“Something like that,” you say. “Should you be wasting your time here instead of rejoining the fight, Your Highness?”
“As I have said, I am confident in their strength. These bandits will not prove a challenge.”
Quite a foolhardy man, you think. Those are not really bandits, but you suppose the prince doesn’t know that.
“From the way they fight, I know that they are not actually bandits, but trained soldiers,” winks Farland conspiratorially. “Do not worry, even then, my knights will prevail.”
“It is comforting that you have foreseen that much then, Prince Farland,” you bow your head. “I suppose I am no longer needed here then?” Rin stiffens up at your words: she does not seem pleased at the idea that she would leave without getting a chance to fight the dirty humans. You gently motion for her to keep back – you don’t want her accidentally slipping and beheading the prince with her axe.
“No, let me at least express my gratitude to you for your effort in saving my people,” replies the prince, casting an eye at the shattered statues. It was not much effort at all – if it was, you would have never done it. “Magic to turn men into stone… I have never seen such wonders. I am curious, sir mage, do you know anything about the column of light and the rumbling that was sighted near this area some two weeks ago?”
“Your Highness, trouble!” shouts his adjutant suddenly. “More of them are coming!”
That is right – the information you obtained from the mage indicated that there were at least seventy more of them. Not all of the enemy had appeared on this raid: they must have kept their forces in reserve, only waiting to commit when necessary. And it looks like it has become necessary: you suspect that their target has appeared. The remainder of the enemy forces have arrived, springing the trap – whereas the initial wave only had normal soldiers, you are noticing the presence of mages in their reinforcements. They also number quite a bit more than you had expected: you are unable to count them all, but it might be close to a hundred instead of seventy.
“A trap, eh? If they knew I was coming…” Farland mutters to himself. He seems to have thought of something. “Well, I knew the risks when I signed up to be born into the royal family, I suppose,” he jokes.
“Can’t your men fight a hundred men each?” Rin asks sarcastically.
“Oh, the mage’s companion. Sir knight, I am afraid that was hyperbole,” he says with a gallant wave. “No matter. I am sorry, but I must return to my men and get them to safety. I am sorry to trouble you further, but could I entrust you with the children?”
“Your Highness, why do we not conscript this man and his partner into the fight? He might be useless, but he could serve as an extra shield for your royal personage!” exclaims the adjutant.
“He is useless,” nods Rin, contributing no value at all to the conversation. You give her a nasty look which she ignores.
After pondering over it for a second, Farland says, “Well… sir mage, if you would fight with us, I would be eternally grateful. I would even consider it to be my life saved through your action, and I assure you that the gratitude of royalty runs deep indeed. It may not be in my power to grant you a full title of nobility, but I can assure you some riches, at least... perhaps a lesser knighthood, if that is what you desire. Of course, that is only if we make it out of this alive. I do not lie: it will be a risky fight.”
You have had first-hand experience with the gratitude of royalty, and you are not keen to experience it again. The part where you get stabbed, in particular, is pretty undesirable. It would just be troublesome.
***
A. You decide not to let past experiences bias your judgment. Helping out a prince of the kingdom would be more useful than merely helping out a village chief, which is one possible outcome you had considered coming here. Besides, you can't let a potential cutie die before you've seen her face. Judging from your battle in the ruins, you doubt it will be anywhere near as risky as the prince thinks unless they pull out some trick that you have not seen before.
B. You suspect that the enemy forces are here for the prince. You can make it easy for them. You capture the prince alive and use him for your own negotiations - he will never see this coming. You have no idea what you are going to ask of them yet, but you are sure you will think of something once you have the prince in hand. Maybe women, or money, or information, or all three. Should negotiations fail... well, it is too bad for the raiders, then.
C. You didn’t come here to save the village, and things are rapidly becoming more of a hassle than you asked for. You’ll take your toys and go home.
1. Kidnap the twins.
2. Kidnap the prince.
3. Kidnap the prince’s adjutant.
4. Kidnap the twins and the prince.
5. Kidnap the twins and the prince’s adjutant.
6. Kidnap the prince and the prince’s adjutant.
7. Kidnap them all, of course.
8. Kidnap none of them.
D. It is time for a break. You wave the prince off, wishing him good fortune, and then sit and have a picnic.