NOVEL NEXT Chapter 177: Mayor
“Arthur, decision time.” Onna heard the cheer and was on top of the wall so fast Arthur suspected she had Karbo-jumped to the top. “Are we still retreating? The safe bet is to run. There are hundreds of monsters out there. Maybe thousands. If we’re caught when the wall goes down, it’ll be bad.”
“And how much time does the wall have left?”
“Minutes,” Karra said. “Or more. It’s impossible to say right now.”
Arthur stared down at the monsters. There were still too many of them to count, even despite Corbin’s heroic charge at the back of the wave. If anything, the ones that were left looked especially tough.
“What are the chances someone gets hurt?”
“Honestly? Fifty-fifty. Seriously hurt, maybe twenty-eighty. But that’s without considering your tea. There’s no telling what it will do.”
“What does everyone want?”
“With hope so close, they want to stay and fight. But that’s why it’s your decision. Do we take the risk or do we play it safe? The fighters were particularly vocal.”
“Let me go talk to the fighters.” Arthur walked to the adder and slid down to the ground-level of the defense efforts. The warriors were still pushing the monsters away from their stations but perked up as Arthur arrived. “You all want this? To fight out there?”
They all nodded as one. Nobody talked.
“We still need someone to cover the retreat. Just in case,” Arthur said.
“I’ll do it, Arthur,” Onna said. “Guard, remember? I get perks for that.”
“Okay. Fine.” Arthur climbed up the ladder and back to the wall as the warriors cheered. He caught Karra’s eye and nodded. “Everyone! Listen!”
The whole town, admirably, kept throwing rocks as they quieted down in expectation of whatever he was about to say.
“Crafters and non-combatants, get to the boats. Workers, get ready to tip this wall. The warriors have asked to fight it out, and I decided to let them. Unilaterally. This is on my head.” Arthur gulped. “I’m staying with them. Keep a boat warm for me, okay?”
—
As the wall crashed down, Arthur got a notification, one he had to shove aside to watch as the final defense of Coldbrook came underway. The warriors waited just long enough for the wall to crumble before charging, taking the monster hoard by surprise. The archers had dipped into some super-secret tactical reserve of arrows, and followed the group of melee combatants, alternating between firing over their heads and picking off the few monsters who managed to squeeze by the formation.
Almost immediately, Arthur knew it wasn’t going to be enough. The monsters weren’t falling fast enough. From his vantage on top of Talca’s barn, he could see that the monster wave was surging harder and faster than any of them had expected. And the fighters, despite their spirits, were exhausted. The monsters were gaining ground and every second the fighters waited was a bit of extra danger. They’d have to retreat.
Or they would have. Rumble and Daisy chose that moment to appear for the second time. The two Pratas came from beyond the treeline, cutting laterally across the remnants of the monster wave and wreaking havoc. Rumble, especially, seemed right at home fighting the monsters, likely thanks to the dungeon delving he had done earlier. The Prata charge broke the monsters just enough to let the warriors hold on.
For a few minutes, things looked hopeful. The monsters were disorganized, the Pratas were invincible, and the warriors were holding up just fine. Then one of the frontline fighters took a bad step on uneven ground and tripped, getting a wound to their chest in the bargain. The others started to pick up nicks and scratches here and there, and then more substantial injuries as things started spiraling in a negative cycle.
Corbin’s cavalry in the back were still pushing hard, but they were still too far away from the front line action. There was only so much a group that small could do.
It was once again time for Arthur to make the hard decision. Without his orders, someone was going to get badly hurt or worse. He’d have to pull them out. Nobody else could.
And he only had seconds to decide to do it. In those seconds, he grasped desperately for a way not to fail, not to collapse when the light at the end of the tunnel was fully visible in the distance. Scrambling for anything, he finally brought up his notification.
Mayoral Powers Increased!
You have made a hard decision for the town in a time of peril, taking heavy responsibility firmly on your shoulders. As such, you have unlocked two potential options for the management of your city. Only one may be deployed at a time, with a one-week cooldown if you choose to switch between them at a later time. Choose wisely!
Defensive Blast Rune
Working in conjunction with the town’s enchanters, you may take control of a rune array built to store massive amounts of majicka over time and release them in a single, powerful blow to a large area either in or outside the city. Alternately, you may narrow the beam to one exceptionally dangerous target.
The damage dealt by the beam scales with the size and quality of the rune array attached to it, as does the recharge rate of the weapon.
Mayoral Buff
You may buff a small group of workers, combatants, or crafters who are exerting themselves to better your city or town. The number of workers affected by this buff is limited to twenty individuals and the power of the buff varies depending on the duration chosen.
Alert! No rune array detected. Defaulting to Mayoral Buff.
Damn, Arthur thought. I would have loved to have a death laser right about now.
Still, the buff was something and Arthur was glad for a lifeline, no matter how small. He gritted his teeth and selected the shortest possible duration for the skill, which ended up being ten minutes. And then he hit yes on the system screen. The option for using mayoral powers grayed out on his screen and the warriors started to glitter. Not a lot, and not from their bodies. But their weapons and armor began to look just a little brighter, then to move just a little quicker as they fought.
And the monster began to fall faster and faster. Daisy and Rumble had apparently been included in the buff and they roared in satisfaction as they sent monsters flying. It was working, the tides were shifting.
Arthur watched in wonder. Later on, he’d learn that the mayoral buff was a thing that worked better the more desperate a situation was, and most settlements used it far before when Arthur powered it for Coldbrook. But he really hadn’t known it was an option until the very last moment, when it would work to maximum effect.
For now, he could see that it wasn’t a small thing. And five minutes later, he saw Lith raise his bow and the last arrow in his quiver for a final shot at a monster, only to find there were no targets left. The field was absolutely clear.
Arthur heard the warriors cheer, but didn’t see the celebration. Tears had blotched out his vision. The town had done it. They had won.
—
Dungeon monster meat was not a delicacy. Delicacies were little bites of things you’d have at great expense, things you’d parcel out over time because you’d bankrupt yourself otherwise. Delicacies were supposed to be delicate too. They were fine desserts after meals, or small appetizers before them. Monster meat was none of these things. Monster meat, Arthur was finding, was the stuff of feasts.
But the celebrations didn’t happen until later in the night. First, they had to sweep the countryside for a few hours looking for straggler monsters that might still pose a threat to Coldbrook. Then, the workers, crafters, and fisherfolk recovered everything they could from the battlefield outside the wall and the ocean below the cliff. Only after all of that was done did the hunters and warriors start bringing in just the right monsters for feasting.
Fires were started, cooks went crazy, and hundreds of pounds of meat were cooked alongside biscuits, breads, cakes and cookies. There were soups. There was alcohol, which several of the town inhabitants had learned to drink from the swarm of moms earlier in the season. Fish were cooking on sticks above coals. Tea was brewing. It was a hedonistic display on par with anything Arthur had ever seen.
Everywhere, people were eating and laughing, clapping each other on the back and surveying the battlefield in triumph. They had made it. A few people had thought they would, but nobody had been confident. The relief was so great that everyone’s laugh was a little bit louder. Everyone had a full plate of food and a full glass of drink.
Arthur sat quietly and took it all in.
As the stress slipped off his shoulders, a new problem emerged. At peace for the first time in months and full of roasted meat and bread, Arthur was beginning to doze off. He would have fallen completely asleep if Mizu hadn’t seen it, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him to his feet.
“Not here, Arthur,” Mizu said. “I don’t want to carry you home. Come on. I want to show you something.” That something ended up being a hammock. Suspended between two poles was a net made of thick ropes, the hammock swung gently in the breeze. “We thought it would be a fun trophy for you. You had talked about them before, that it was an Earth-thing you liked.”
“A trophy?”
“Yes. That’s the net from Puka’s traps. It’s strong. It should last for a very long time.”
“Shouldn’t that go to Puka, or Milo?”
“There’s plenty of net to go around, Arthur. Now get in. Go.”
It wasn’t a warm night, but it also wasn’t so cold that Arthur couldn’t get comfortable in the hammock by means of his enchanted clothing and general stat-enhanced sturdiness. It wasn’t his bed, of course, but he was so sleepy that it hardly mattered. The only hard choice was choosing between staying in the hammock and fulfilling his mayoral duties, which called for him to mingle and cheer with the rest of everyone.
“I should be back there.” Arthur yawned. “Celebrating.”
“There will be plenty of time to celebrate. The day after a wave is a holiday, remember? Besides, if you go back, you’ll miss it.”
“Miss what?”
“This.” Mizu jumped lightly into the air and settled gracefully into the hammock beside him. “I’m here, not there. Make your choice, offworlder.”
It wasn’t that hard of a choice.