Ogre Tyrant

Opening his eyes, Pete found himself staring into the small earnest face of his youngest sister, Momoko. They had met only once before, but Pete could sense the kinship they shared. A bond that was only slightly less strong than he held with twin, Suzy.

Believing himself undeserving of comfort, Pete closed his eyes and tried to shut out the connection.

Momoko asked quietly. She insisted with gentle yet surprisingly intense resolve.

Pete replied gloomily, resenting his sister for disturbing his isolation.

The image of a massive mountain was shared through their connection and Pete could feel his sister’s intense longing and underlying need to return there. <-help to grow. Help Momoko help Daddy.>

Pete’s malaise retreated by several degrees as his mind snapped into intense focus. He demanded, pressing his sister for answers.

Momoko nodded vigorously, causing her hair to swirl and sway in the water around them. She scrunched up her small face and shook her head, seemingly unsatisfied with her choice of words. Momoko appeared somewhat frustrated at not knowing the right words to communicate her intent.

Images of a tree being struck by lightning flashed through Pete’s mind.

Momoko had scrunched up her face and pressed her forefingers against her temples to concentrate her thoughts.

Pete rolled the thought through his mind, unsure why he was so ready to trust in his newly hatched sister’s words.

Momoko repeated with surprising clarity. Her thoughts had been gaining coherence and fluency with each exchange, but the sudden leap was somewhat alarming.

Pete asked, only to recognise the answer immediately afterwards.

She needed his authority to navigate the disconnected and isolated territories of the realm.

Momoko nodded and smiled, her eyes flashing with dangerous intensity.

Focusing on the image of the mountain in his mind, Pete pictured himself and his sister standing on the cold dirt and stones atop the peak.

Just as Pete willed it, his command became reality.

“Young master?” A rasping voice called out in surprise, drawing Pete’s attention toward a tall, gaunt and bat-winged Daemon perched atop one of the larger boulders.

“Garn,” Pete acknowledged the Daemon’s presence with a curt nod.

“If I may ask?” Garn crawled down from the boulder on all fours, presenting himself before Pete on even ground. “What purpose has brought the young master and mistress to this place?”

Momoko ignored the question and began making her way toward a blackened patch of earth and a burnt stump at its centre.

“To heal father...” Pete replied quietly, still following his youngest sister’s progress across the mountain.

Garn’s wings twitched excitedly and his clawed hand tightened around the artefact left in his safekeeping. ‘How may I assist you?!” The Daemon asked earnestly.

Unsure of the details of Momoko’s plan, Pete remained silent.

Having arrived at the blackened stump, Momoko fell to her knees and wrapped her arms as best as she was able around the remains of the trunk.

Drawing closer to investigate what his little sister was up to, Pete was taken aback upon discovering she was crying.

Had their intended plan failed already? What part had the tree been required to play?

“The mistress was hatched from a fruit born of the tree,” Garn explained quietly, guessing at the source of Pete's confusion. “The tree passed shortly before the mistress hatched...”

“Oh...” Pete didn’t know what to say. Already wrestling with the possibility of his father’s death, Pete felt a profound sense of empathy for her loss. However, his feelings quickly turned to alarm when Momoko suddenly disappeared without warning.

Moving closer to investigate, Pete suddenly had to scramble away again as the earth beneath his feet began to tremble and shake violently.

The blackened stump disintegrated as a new sapling surged out of the dirt and began growing at a tremendous pace.

Suppressing his panic, Pete could sense the mana fueling the tree’s growth. He became somewhat confused upon discovering that the tree was both the source and recipient of the mana.

After a handful of minutes, the tree’s growth came to an abrupt end and Momoko reappeared, sitting at the base of the trunk, her eyes still puffy from her tears.

“Sister...” Pete closed the distance between them with a few quick strides, lifted her into his arms, and hugged her tightly.

Despite possessing the proportions of a Human, Momoko returned his embrace with deceptively intense Strength and vigour.

Some time later, Momoko pulled away and Pete set her back down on the ground. As he did so, Pete became confused after realising his youngest sister had appeared to have grown nearly twice her original height without him noticing until this moment.

Furthermore, Momoko appeared to have not only grown taller but somewhat older as well. By no means an adult, she shared the slim lanky build Pete had come to recognise as belonging to the older children who were half a year old. Or, in the Human’s odd frame of reference, around twelve years old.

“Thank you, big brother,” Momoko’s smile radiated a profound and undeniable sincerity.

Pete shrugged bashfully and stared pointedly at the tree behind her. “This tree is you?” He asked, wanting to confirm what his authority already claimed was true.

Momoko nodded and placed one hand against the trunk of the tree, “I am the tree, but the tree is also me,” she amended without a trace of guile or humour. “We are of two bodies, but one soul...Or...It is the body and I am the soul?...” Momoko frowned slightly and seemed to grow distracted by her own thoughts.

“A Dryad?” Pete asked uncertainly. He had reviewed his sister’s Status and knew she was not a Dryad, but Momoko’s explanation fit what he knew of Hana and her sister.

Momoko scrunched up her face as she considered her reply. “It is not entirely different...” She hedged. “But mother and auntie do not share their senses in the same way...It is difficult to explain...”

Pete nodded to show he understood. He had encountered several instances while watching and learning from the Daemons and other monsters within Sanctuary. Not all monsters share the same extraordinary senses. Each had their strengths and limitations, and some had unique advantages.

Momoko turned to look at Garna and held out her hands expectantly. “I need those,” she pointed to the magical hood on his shoulders and the staff in his hands.

Garn appears momentarily taken aback. However, after considering Momoko’s demand, he surrendered both items without complaint.

Smiling in gratitude, Momoko took the items to her tree and threw them up into its branches. Instead of tumbling back down to the ground, the hood and staff were caught by two large spindly hands formed from the tree’s branches.

The storm clouds overhead began to grow darker and rumbled ominously.

As the rain began to fall, Pete could feel the tree circulating mana and Chi simultaneously, drawing, spending and generating both resources in a dizzying and repetitive cycle.

Momoko slowly and somewhat stiffly walked away from her tree. The distracted look in her eyes suggested that whatever it was the tree was doing required a certain degree of her concentration to continue. “Big brother, has Daddy shown you how to Cultivate with breathing techniques?” Momoko asked earnestly.

Pete nodded and used his authority to conjure a leather book. One of several books gifted from his father, the leather pages of the book were made by the Daemons to be entirely waterproof, and a reactive glowing ink impregnated into the leather allowed its contents to be read in the dark.

This particular book contained details and descriptions and step-by-step instructions on several dozen different breathing Techniques as well as a collection of stories related to the more famous among them.

Pete offered his sister the book but felt a pang of reluctance and regret as she took it from his hands.

Struggling under the weight and the awkward size of the book, Momoko set it down on the ground and began slowly turning the pages. Eventually, she settled on a page demonstrating the Breath of the Forest breathing Technique. The illustration depicted a young Human adult male with long hair and colourful robes sitting beneath several large trees being swept by a powerful wind. It was also one of the few breathing Techniques accompanied by a story. However, Momoko didn’t appear interested in the story at all, focusing only on the large detailed illustration.

“This one, can you teach me, big brother?” Momoko asked, eagerly pointing to the illustration.

Pete couldn’t help himself and frowned. “You need my help?” He asked, confused and uncertain of what his youngest sister intended.

Momoko gingerly shook her head. “I can’t understand this,” she pointed to the words on the page opposite the illustration.

“You...can’t read?” Pete realised he had made several poor assumptions based on his youngest sister’s appearance and chastised himself for it.

“No...” Momoko pouted, puffing out her cheeks in exaggerated irritation, “I can read and write-” She drew several dozen characters into the mud in rapid succession. Only, she wrote them vertically rather than horizontally. Were it not for her supreme confidence, Pete wouldn’t have believed her claims.

“The tallest tree draws the strongest storms,” Garn translated, surprising them both in equal measure.

“You can read this?” Pete demanded, pointing to the markings his youngest sister had made in the mud.

Garn nodded in the affirmative. “Indeed, young master. It is one of the three known languages of the Cultivators,” he explained in his dry croaking voice. “It is the King’s command that all Daemons learn the languages of the Tyrant’s subjects,” he provided as an explanation for his first explanation.

Having known Gric his entire life, Pete didn’t find the command particularly surprising. Discovering, preserving and distributing information was one of Gric’s self-imposed duties, and language was a core component of that aspiration.

Sitting on the ground beside the book, Pete slowly worked his way through the description of the Technique and the accompanying instructions. While he was technically literate, he was not yet proficient enough to read even half as fast as he could speak the same words aloud and was in no hurry to make a fool of himself.

Thankfully, the illustration provided most of the necessary description all on its own. Demonstrating the correct form required to initiate the required meditation for the Technique and even clues for how the subject of the meditation itself.

After explaining the contents of the Technique and the clues represented in the illustration, Pete left his youngest sister to practise on her own for a little while and cleaned his book in the nearby spring. Despite its resistance to water and extreme durability, knowing that the book was soiled by the mud irked Pete on a profoundly deep level that he couldn’t put into words.

It was an opinion that Pete knew was shared by his father. A thought that had once given him a small degree of comfort but now brought only a mounting sense of unease as his thoughts turned to the uncertain fate of his father.

Watching Momoko meditate beneath her tree, Pete was left alone with Garn and his own thoughts for company.

Growing increasingly anxious regarding his future and all of the responsibilities he would be expected to take onto his shoulders, Pete came to a decision.

Exercising his authority, Pete returned to the bottom of the lake and began to meditate, drawing the mana-rich water into his body and over his gills with increasing speed. Similar to drawing in the Cultivation energy, Pete drew the mana out of the water and took it into himself.

Losing himself to the rhythm and repetition, Pete retained only enough awareness of his surroundings to read the notifications as they appeared in front of his eyes. Evolving several times in as many minutes, Pete continued drawing raw mana into himself, reinforcing and building upon his increasing reserve of MP.

Following his father’s path had been the logical choice. However, Pete was still surprised and somewhat concerned that the Tyrant subEvolution had been made available after achieving the Ogre Mage Evolution he had originally intended.

Shouldn’t it be reserved for the Tyrant?

Taking it as a sign, Pete intended to follow his father’s example and accepted the prompt offering the accompanying Class. Using his authority, Pete relocated himself to the Dwergi arena.

So little time had passed since their visit and Pete found it upsetting that so much could be allowed to change.

Why couldn’t they just be left alone?

Blinking away his tears, Pete looked out from the viewing box and focused on the duelling platforms below.

Despite the late hour, hundreds of Humans occupied the public seats overlooking the arena and viewing platforms.

Nearly as many Humans, and a few others, were waiting their turn on the centremost stage. Besides being the largest of the platforms in the arena, the Dwergi changed the terrain between each duel, making it a unique experience for each duel.

Watching the Dwergi work unlocked the first Spell Pete was looking for. After accepting the Shape Earth Spell into his Grimoire of Flesh, a jagged mountain range was imprinted into his skin and Pete grimly noted that he had gained the Earth Affinity.

Due to stringent requirements, Spellcasting Classes were comparatively rare and exclusively specialised, making Pete’s acquisition of the desired Spells agonisingly slow.

“Young master...” Without warning, Gric had appeared at his side and was frowning with disapproval. “The Tyrantess is distressed by your absence...” His slitted pupils narrowed, darting to and fro as they took in Pete’s new appearance. “You have grown,” Gric commented matter of factly, neither approving nor disapproving of Pete's actions.

“Need to help,” Pete insisted, “Need to be ready...”

Gric’s stare intensified. “Your place is at the side of the Tyrantess,” he countered. “Disunity in crisis is selfish and invites further disaster.” His right eye twitched and Pete could feel the Daemon King observing his surface thoughts. “How does your absence help?” Gric probed.

Pete wasn’t exactly sure of the reason himself. He just trusted that his youngest sister knew what she was doing.

“The youngest mistress...” Gric purred dangerously.

Pete felt a tug on the core of his being and intuitively understood that Gric was attempting to exercise his own authority to move them somewhere else. Assuming he would be presented before his mother, and feeling increasingly guilty about abandoning her, Pete allowed Gric’s authority to temporarily supersede his own.

However, instead of appearing before his mother, Pete found he had returned to the mountain.

Gric stalked through the mud and toward Momoko. “Young mistress, how does this aid the Tyrant?” He demanded, breaking her concentration.

Flustered and thoroughly caught off guard, Momoko shrank back from the Daemon and disappeared into the trunk of her tree.

Gric growled in frustration, balling his fists and causing his back to crackle and pop under the immense pressure. However, he became calm again just as quickly. “Young mistress...I apologise for my impertinence...My fervour in pursuing my duties led me to ignore any discomfort I may cause...”

After several long moments, Momoko cautiously peeked out from the trunk of her tree. “You aren’t mad?” She asked timidly.

Gric took a deep breath and assumed a serene expression similar to the Humans depicted in Pete’s book. “I am not mad, young mistress. I am just deeply concerned for the welfare of the Tyrant.”

Momoko gnawed at her lower lip and looked to Pete for support.

“It is safe,” Pete stated confidently. Even if he wasn’t bound by oaths of loyalty, Gric wouldn’t hurt them. Pete knew it with the same certainty that the sun would rise each morning and set again each evening. Gric’s honour and pride simply wouldn’t allow it.

As Gric gave Pete a small nod of thanks, Momoko took the opportunity to dash past him and hide protectively behind Pete’s back.

“Gric is...” Pete struggled to find the right words to set his youngest sister at ease. “He is father’s friend. He protects us.”

Gric’s back cast back his shoulders and tilted his head so his three horns caught the moonlight. “As always, I endeavour to find myself deserving of the trust placed in me and my kin.”

Garn nodded silently in emphatic agreement.

Holding tightly to Pete’s arm, Momoko continued to hesitate.

“Gric will help,” Pete insisted, resisting the urge to become frustrated at his younger sister. He knew she was just frightened and wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“Big brother is sure?” Momoko asked timidly.

“Big brother is sure,” Pete repeated with absolute confidence and feeling a certain sense of pride in reassuring his sister. Given Suzy’s reckless and utterly fearless nature, it was altogether a unique experience for him.

“Okay...” Momoko nervously stepped out from behind Pete's back but continued holding tightly to his arm. “Father’s internal energy is out of balance...” She explained quietly. “Father used Death Chi to preserve his life...but it is a poison and has damaged father’s spirit...”

Gric’s eyes flashed with recognition but he remained silent. No doubt worried that any action he might take would cause Momoko to run and hide again.

“How do we heal this damage?” Garn asked respectfully, taking great care to appear as unthreatening as possible.

“Father needs new energy to heal his spirit and restore balance,” Momoko explained with increasing confidence. “If I gather enough, I can heal Father!”

“You are certain?” Gric asked quietly.

Momoko nodded determinedly.

“And what role does the young master play in this plan?” Gric shifted his gaze from her and onto Pete instead.

Momoko’s cheeks flushed. “I needed brother’s help to return to the mountain...”

“So the young master can return home now?” Gric pressed. “Lurr possesses a token that will allow him to ferry the young mistress back to The Grove when-”

“No!” Momoko cried, tightening her grip on Pete’s arm. “Uncle must stay with Father! And big brother must stay with me!”

Gric furrowed his brow slightly but said nothing.

“The young mistress is certain of this?” Garn asked nervously.

Momoko nodded so fiercely that she had to push her wet hair out of her face afterwards.

“Perhaps the young master could spare a few moments to ease the worries of the Tyrantess?” Garn suggested, sharing a sidelong glance with Gric.

Pete shifted uncomfortably. He had not intended to upset his mother. However, as much as he had been able to justify his absence, Pete knew it wouldn’t mean much in the face of his mother’s worry. He also knew that he should have told her where he was going. The only reason he hadn’t, was out of fear that she would have forbid him from leaving.

“I could come back after...” Pete said somewhat uncertainly, trying to reassure his youngest sister despite his doubts.

“I will go with big brother,” Momoko stated meekly, her fingers trembling with fear and uncertainty.

Pete had never thought of his mother as a source of potential danger, but he realised that he had always considered the issue from a privileged perspective. As her child, Pete knew, on a primal level, that his mother would never knowingly cause him harm without incredibly good cause.

Of course, that protection did not automatically extend to Momoko...

She was his sister, but not his mother’s daughter...

But Eg wasn’t her daughter either, and she received the same love and affection as he and Suzy. So Pete couldn’t be certain how his mother would react.

Aware that delaying would only make matters worse, Pete used his authority to take himself and Momoko to his mother.

It came as no surprise to Pete when he found himself in the dark lower levels beneath the hospital. His mother had left his father’s side on only a handful of occasions over the past couple of days and was never away for long.

Having expected to find his mother angry at him, Pete was devastated upon realising she was disappointed in him. That he had let her down and fallen short of her expectations.

Gutted, Pete staggered and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught himself against the wall.

“You were gone...” His mother said quietly with hurt in her eyes. “Why did you go?...” There was no judgement in her voice, but he could still hear the same undertone of disappointment.

“Pete bad!” Suzy growled, gnashing her teeth even as she snuggled deeper into their mother’s embrace.

“Hush Suzy...” Their mother cooed soothingly without taking her eyes off of him. “Pete will explain...”

“Youngest sister...Momoko, she needs my help...” Pete answered quietly, feeling too guilty to quite match his mother’s gaze. “She says she can help Father...”

Suzy glared at Momoko and hissed between her teeth.

With a fearful yelp, Momoko fled and hid behind Pete’s back.

“Suzy,” their mother growled in warning, unintentionally upsetting Eg and causing her to whimper in alarm.

Suzy flinched and looked away, choosing to stare at nothing in particular just so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Youngest sister has a plan...” Pete repeated earnestly, “And she needs help...” Pete had been avoiding looking at his father, but couldn’t help himself any longer. As much as he hated seeing his father in this condition, a part of him needed to confirm that he was still there. That he was still alive.

Lurr, who had remained silent up until this moment, loudly cleared his throat and drew all eyes to himself. “Tyrant’s heir not fleeing. Son chases father’s shadow,” he pointed to Pete’s tattoo, recognising its significance. “Says Tyrant will heal. Lurr believes,” Lurr bowed his head to Pete in respect.

Pete couldn’t help but fidget uncomfortably as his mother’s eyes settled on his tattoo. However, instead of becoming further disappointed, a small measure of weight appeared to lift off her shoulders.

“You have his Evolution,” his mother commented with unexpected approval and a measure of surprise.

Pete nodded.

His mother’s eyes grew unfocused for a moment as she reviewed his status. “And his Class...” Her expression grew conflicted and Pete wasn’t sure what she was feeling. “I trust you...” His mother said quietly and beckoned for him to come closer.

Closing the distance between them, Pete leaned into his mother’s embrace.

“Stay safe,” his mother insisted, tightening her embrace briefly before releasing him again.

“I will, mama,” Pete promised.

Sparing one final look at his father, Pete took Momoko’s hand and returned to the mountain.

“The Tyrantess approves,” Gric observed with absolute certainty. “How may I assist the young master?”

Reassured by his mother’s approval and Gric’s support, Pete decided to make the most of his available resources. “I need more Spells,” he explained bluntly, driving straight to the heart of the matter.

“Which Spells?” Gric asked without judgment or reservation. “Name your requirement and I will do my best to see it met.”

Pete shifted somewhat uncomfortably. “I need Spells that will match Father’s Affinities...”

“Yes!” Momoko joined in excitedly, “Big brother is so smart!”

Gric cocked his head slightly to one side but said nothing. Instead, he cycled through several Spells in relatively rapid succession. “These are the Spells granted to me by the Tyrant,” he explained carefully while dismissing a ragged black tear in the sky. “To my knowledge, the Tyrant does not possess any others.”

Taking the elemental Spells into his Grimoire of Flesh, Pete confirmed that the Spells had granted him their corresponding affinities. However, he paused when confronted with the Drain Life Spell. “I do not want it...” Pete admitted, feeling ashamed for his cowardice.

If the Affinity was able to lay his father low, Pete doubted he would be able to keep his promise to his mother.

“Don’t take it,” Momoko replied supportively, sharing a small smile through the rain. “We don’t need it.”

“You are sure?” Pete asked uncertainly.

Momoko hesitated, but only for a moment. “We don’t need it!” She repeated, this time with seemingly unflappable conviction.

Choosing to trust his sister, Pete selected the Spatial Breach Spell as the second to last entry into his Grimoire of Flesh. Until he gained more Exp, he wouldn’t be able to learn any other Spells. So he thought it best to keep the final space in reserve.

Now that he possessed the Thunder Affinity, Pete could feel the immense power concentrated around them. More than mana and the raw Cultivation energy, he could feel the storm being drawn into his body with each new breath. Building and growing inside of him, spreading from his abdomen and into his veins.

Assuming his meditation stance and cycling his breathing Technique amplified the effects over a hundredfold. Similar to how his Water Affinity increased while meditating in the lake, his Thunder Affinity’s rank began to climb. Only it was increasing with every few minutes rather than days.

As the ambient Thunder Affinity-aligned energy began to ebb, the progress of his Affinity began to drop.

Feeling his youngest sister take hold of his hand, Pete experienced a renewed surge of energy flood through his veins.

All but blind to the storm, Pete was slow to recognise an unfamiliar smell building in the air, and entirely unprepared for the sudden flash of light that stole his vision. Pete’s fears were forgotten as he felt a massive surge of power pass through Momoko’s body and into his own.

Feeling a sense of panic as the power threatened to overwhelm him, Pete felt a profound sense of relief as the power receded through his connection to his youngest sister. When the power returned a handful of moments later, Pete managed to keep his nerve until the power receded again. As the power returned for a third time, he discovered that he could direct its flow through his body, drawing away at its strength and taking more of its essence into himself before guiding it back to Momoko.

Despite the danger, Pete was surprised to discover that he was enjoying himself and couldn’t stop himself from grinning from ear to ear.

***** Gregory ~ Asrusian Former Capital *****

Walking the empty streets of the former capital, Gregory couldn't help but feel a lingering but profound sense of despair. With the citizens refusing to remain within the city, only a small garrison remained to hold the castle and control access to the Labyrinth.

It would only be a matter of time before the Confederates seized control over the city, likely under peaceful pretences.

As much as Gregory wanted to believe that it was the people who made the country, not the land they lived upon, he couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of loss.

Surveying the destruction wrought by the unknown enemy, Gregory had no delusions regarding the need to evacuate the civilians from the city.

According to the reports, the monster had been capable of levelling stone buildings with a single strike, and there was no shortage of physical evidence to support this claim.

Working alongside the other soldiers, Gregory had pulled hundreds of broken bodies from beneath the rubble of fallen buildings. No doubt, many of them had been seeking shelter, placing their hopes in the strength of their stone walls to save them. Only to find themselves crushed to death by those same walls.

A small number of soldiers had taken to blaming the Tyrant for the disaster, believing he had fled from the battle and left the civilians to fend for themselves.

Gregory knew that the rumour was unfounded. By chance, he had been on leave within the capital when the enemy had attacked the city. While trying to locate the enemy, Gregory had received the Quest announcing the Tyrant’s critical state.

Surveying the ground of the battle in person and having read the eyewitness reports, Gregory knew better than to accuse the Tyrant of cowardice.

The Tyrant had faced the enemy and fought until the bitter end.

Kneeling and pressing his hand against the edge of the large patch of dried blood that covered half of the street, Gregory considered it nothing short of a miracle that the Tyrant had survived.

Tracking the devastation of the battle, it became clear to Gregory that the Tyrant had been outmatched from the beginning. Brief exchanges would be made and then the Tyrant would retreat, perhaps intending to buy time to regenerate MP or attempt to cast a Spell before engaging in another brief but brutal exchange.

The blood trails the Tyrant had left in his wake made it painfully easy to retrace his steps. Even collapsed buildings only provided a minor inconvenience. Confirming the flow of the battle rather than obfuscating it.

While retracing the Tyrant’s steps, Gregory discovered the Tyrant’s crimson stone armour half buried in rubble. After sending a description of the location to his men and giving orders for its retrieval, Gregory removed the wand from the case on his belt and teleported to the receiving chambers of the Lord Regent.

“Enter,” the Lord Regent commanded a fraction of a second after Gregory’s arrival.

As one of a handful of individuals who possessed the means to bypass the Anchor protecting the Lord Regent’s residence, the speedy invitation came as no surprise. Especially given the Daemons’ intense dislike for wasting time while on the Tyrant’s business.

Entering the Regent’s study, Gregory was not surprised to find he was not alone.

The monster, Jacque, a Doppelganger and friend of the Tyrant was wearing her usual disguise. Emulating the appearance of the Lord Regent’s late wife down to the most esoteric details, it came as little surprise why the Lord Regent actively pursued her company.

Gregory had observed the pair reference past conversations with immaculate detail, even going so far as to argue over whose retelling was closer to the truth. A feat that was made all the more impressive considering the Doppelganger was working entirely off of the Lord Regent’s memories.

Of course, the Doppelganger was an entirely different person whenever the Lord Regent was outside of earshot. Making it clear that it was all an elaborate act.

Taking on her true form, except for a lipless gash that served as her mouth, the Doppelganger made it clear that she would not be affecting a persona. “Did you find out who these Amun and Kema bastards are?!” The Doppelganger demanded rudely.

Gregory made a point of addressing his attention to the Lord Regent. “Beyond what we have already learned from witness testimony, it is still unclear what role the second individual played in the attack-”

“Besides murdering a couple of thousand people you mean?” Jacque jibed, her white pupiless eyes glaring at him from across the room.

Gregory had seen the bodies for himself and would have suspected suicide were it not for several key factors. Foremost amongst them was the extreme degree of coordination with which regular civilians had taken knives to their throats and ended their lives. A close second was how they had chosen to do so while begging and screaming for passersby to help them. Many of them had been neighbours. Making the attack all the more chilling and repulsive.

Amun, whoever they were, had conducted the execution with ruthless efficiency. Demonstrating a truly disturbed, or perhaps, monstrous, mind.

“I have been telling you, those people you had me take a look at, they felt weird...” Jacque insisted and gave an exaggerated shiver. “There are only a few things that register like that, and according to you lot, Tim killed one of them already.”

“You are referring to the monster that was known as ‘The Tailor’?” The Lord Regent asked for clarification.

“Yeah,'' Jacque nodded and made another show of shivering. “Kiki was demented. An addict that would do ANYTHING for her next fix...But this shit...It has autistic psychopath written all over it, and from what I saw in those civies' heads, I’d bet this Amun is another bug.”

“The unaccounted-for fluids at the scene would support this hypothesis,” Gregory agreed, albeit somewhat grudgingly. “If we could speak with the Tyrant’s men, we could-”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Jacque interrupted. “Have you forgotten that you’re at the top of his shit list?”

Gregory had not forgotten. Hardly a day went by without him dwelling on the damage he had done to the reputation of the Kingdom. Casting them out of favour just in time for the Semenovians to step into the void. Although, thankfully, the Semenovians seemed too preoccupied in their rebuilding efforts to make the most of the opportunity.

“Okay, so maybe he doesn’t have a shit list per se,” Jacque continued, casually swinging her hips and sitting herself down on the Lord Regent’s desk. “But he isn’t happy about what you did, and the Daemons, ooh boy do they take that sort of thing seriously. You have no idea how badly they would treat you lot if given the chance. You think Gric’s giving you the cold shoulder now? The Arctic would look like the Bahamas if you tried sneaking into Sanctuary right now.” She paused and rubbed at her temples. “The Arctic is a frozen wasteland and the Bahamas is basically a tropical paradise...keep forgetting you mooks don’t get those sort of references...”

“The context was more than adequate,” the Lord Regent reassured her before turning to face Gregory again. “What of the rumours amongst the soldiers?” He asked gravely.

“I think it is growing worse,” Gregory replied. “The crackdowns performed by the officers don’t appear to be working.”

“I told you it was the wrong way to go,” Jacque gloated. “Tim won’t give two shits about people finding out he got his ass kicked fighting to protect people. It’s kind of just a thing he does at this point. He probably won’t even care that much when he finds out people have been badmouthing him. But it’s not Tim you need to worry about, is it?”

The Lord Regent grimaced. “The Daemons will hold us responsible,” he commented, already accepting the inevitable.

“Unless Tim explicitly tells them not to? You can bet your ass they will,” Jacque crowed. “The Daemons don’t spare a great deal of nuance for this sort of thing. If they don’t see this as some sort of betrayal, then I would be incredibly surprised.”

“You believe the Tyrant will recover then?” The Lord Regent inquired, ignoring the doom and gloom and choosing to focus on the silver lining.

“Whoever they are, they made a mistake in not finishing Tim off when they had the chance,” Jacque hopped off of the table and paced the far end of the room. “Tim heals crazy fast, even without those Surgeons of his. He’s probably physically good to go already. It’s the other part that we need to worry about...”

“The other part?” Gregory asked before he could stop himself.

“Everyone seems to take Tim’s good nature for granted...” Jacque commented darkly, “But none of you have taken a look at what’s under the hood-gah, fuck! Hidden beneath the surface? Yeah that works, now where was I?”

“Misunderstanding the Tyrant’s intentions,” the Lord Regent offered helpfully.

“More than just a handsome face,” Jacque purred lustily before growing sober again. “This is the same shit as the Liche and Vampyres all over again. That brutal attack on the civies is a huge no-no. It’s the sort of thing that fucks him up in the head. Tim’s too soft for that sort of shit and it makes him take it real personal...” She paused and pinned them both in place with a lengthy stare. “It’s basically a guarantee that he’s going to somehow blame himself for what happened. Which means a little bit more of the person you want and need him to be is going to be cast aside so he can pressure himself into getting his hands dirty and seek revenge.”

“You are confident in this insight?” The Lord Regent asked.

“Fuck yeah I am!” Jacque replied earnestly, “I watched it happen in real-time. I was inside of his head as he rationalised each step along the way...Pray Tim hasn’t recovered yet and is in some sort of coma. If he isn’t, you're looking at another war...“

“Then we must prepare accordingly...” The Lord Regent withdrew a small stack of papers from inside his desk and began drafting orders. “This is one of the reasons I never desired the throne,” he sighed wearily. “It is a far better position to offer advice from the wings while comforted in the knowledge that the final decision and responsibility would not rest on my head...” Pausing briefly, he stared out the window and at the two young boys receiving riding lessons outside. “At least the Tyrant’s Oaths have ensured there is no need to worry about misguided assassination attempts...”

“Small miracles,” Jacque tittered, changing her appearance and crossing the room to look out the same window. “I don’t think some people appreciate how big a deal it is to be able to let your kid play outside and not have to freak out the moment they run around a corner...”

“I am sure many parents have found peace of mind in the Tyrant’s policies,” the Lord Regent replied, returning to his work. “It is just unfortunate that those who could assign private protection for their children do not necessarily share that view.”

Remaining at attention, Gregory grunted in agreement. It was rare that members of the nobility suffered meaningful consequences for their decisions and vain aspirations. With murder and assault explicitly forbidden and enforced by the Oaths, the troublemakers among the nobility would be limited to attacking one another with words, or perhaps duels in the Dwergi arena, if they were feeling particularly ornery.

“Captain?” The Lord Regent remained focused on his work but motioned for Gregory to approach. “What do you make of this report?” He nodded to a small stack of papers by his right hand.

Gingerly reaching for the report, Gregory quickly scanned its contents. “It is another Labyrinth Raid?”

Raids were rare due to the extensive controls imposed upon most Labyrinths. However, every so often, a city would suffer a Raid as a result of poor management and the alignment of unfortunate circumstances.

“Keep reading,” the Lord Regent urged.

Gregory did as he was told but quickly found himself doubting the remaining contents of the report.

“I had the same look on my face no less than an hour ago when I read the report for myself,” the Lord Regent commented soberly, setting aside his quill.

“An army of Hobgoblins all armed with magic wands?” Gregory insisted incredulously. “Surely this report isn’t credible?”

The Lord Regent spared a glance toward Jacque, his expression grim.

“They aren’t wands,” Jacque commented dryly without looking away from the window. “They’re a weapon that uses science, alchemy I guess you could call it, to throw small metal projectiles at incredible speeds over long distances...We call them guns...”

“Alchemy?” Gregory only became more confused.

Jacque sighed and ran one hand through her long brown hair. “If it helps, think of it like a crossbow. Only, without the arms and firing just the head of the bolt...”

“We have spoken on this at great length already,” the Lord Regent admitted, “And I doubt we are the only ones to do so. As I am sure you are aware, Captain, the city of Ghelk is on the far side of the Confederacy. So it is safe to assume that if we have learned of these strange weapons, others have as well.”

“Fat load of good it will do them,” Jacque snorted contemptuously, evidently aware of something they were not. “The thing about guns is, the bullets, the projectiles they fire, they need a special powder to make them work. You could steal as many of the bullets and guns as you want, but if you don’t know how to make more of the powder it won’t amount to much.”

“In the same vein as possessing a hunting bow and a brace of arrows, without the knowledge to replace those that are lost or damaged,” the Lord Regent elaborated for Gregory’s benefit, “yes we discussed as much before...”

“I also remember telling you that guns are a really bad idea...” Jacque warned icily. “You can bet your arse Tim knows about guns, and it should tell you all you need to know about them when you take notice that he hasn’t ‘reinvented them’...”

As the Doppelganger’s words sank home, Gregory felt a chill run down his spine. For all the gifts in Healing the Tyrant had provided, it had never occurred to him that the Tyrant might possess knowledge of such destructive weaponry as well.