Throne Hunters Book 4, Chapter 1

(Hello everyone! Surprise chapter drop, as even I didn't know when I'd be returning to Throne Hunters and the consequences of Harald's raid on Count Gorkin's estate. Well, turns out I'm returning today, and here's the first chapter in what will become Book 4 of this series. I'm not 100% sure what the posting rate will be, but it'll be ongoing and constant from hereon out. Thanks for sticking around, and if you're new to the Patreon following the launch of Book 1 on Amazon, welcome!)

Dawn.

Beyond the walls of the Sonora estate the city of Flutic stirred to life. From his balcony, Harald could hear the distant calls of costermongers hawking their wares. The trundle of carriage wheels, the shouts and cries and laughter of a city rousing itself from slumber.

Exhaustion lay upon him like a royal mantle, exhaustion earned by dint of slaughter. How many had died at his hand the night before? How many mercenaries had he slain, torn apart, and savaged like a beast? His memories of his assault on Gorkin’s manor were a fever dream of blood and screams, eyes wide in the darkness, foes turning to run, of pure liquid strength that had rendered him unstoppable.

All so that his friends and Anna might be saved from Gorkin’s foul machinations.

The corner of Harald’s lips turned up in wry amusement. Well. Mostly so that he might save his friends. He couldn’t deny the relief he’d felt at having to indulge in his powers once more. At turning away from Pastoric’s offer to remove the Demon Seed and render Harald a regular, commonplace, dull-as-ditch-water human once more.

Silver linings.

For there was no question of his removing the Seed now. Not with the Twilight Crown in Sam’s possession, hundreds dead, and Gorkin slain. The nobility of Flutic would arise in horror and fear like a murder of crows, to circle and caw and demand answers until the Crown was once more in their possession.

The Twilight Crown.

To think that it lay in Sam’s Cosmos at this moment, an artifact of such potency that its last bearer had warped the city in his image. Had forced the countless nobles and grandees of Flutic to bend knee and acknowledge him their supreme master. Had created such resentment and hatred that none had celebrated King Gustav’s sacrifice when he’d saved the city from demonic incursions by assaulting the 76th level of the Fallen Angel’s dungeon.

Harald frowned at his hands where they gripped the stone railing. Dark blood yet lined the whorls of his knuckles. The City Guard had to be exploring the Gorkin manor by now. Word would be flying across the city to each of the major noble houses about last night’s assault. Each and every noble would instantly think of the Crown, and upon learning that it was missing, panic.

Terror would soon course through the veins of Flutic.

Each noble, from the dour Lord Draken in his city fortress to the brilliant Lady Celestis in her palatial home would be envisioning the nightmarish return of a new King Gustav, come to break their wills and demand their allegiance.

All would vow fervently to resist.

Harald tapped his finger on the carved stone. They had nothing to fear. Sam was as far from a tyrant as one could get. She’d find the Fallen Angel’s kin, that fiery-eyed woman who’d nearly slain him in the dungeon, and gift the Crown to her, return her lost Eclipse Edge blade, and all would be right with the world.

Harald sneered.

The nobility wouldn’t rest until the Crown was theirs once more. But now the fragile balance had been broken; how hard was it to imagine Lady Celestis claiming it for her House, stating that she could best protect it, and if need be, use it, for the greater good of Flutic?

Replacing Gorkin with his storied lineage would be a near impossibility. How would the six main Houses ever agree to a neutral party?

War.

Flutic would tear itself apart.

And the first on the sacrificial altar? Harald, Anna, and their friends.

For a few moments Harald considered this truth. Turned it about. Examined it for logical weaknesses. They could all flee the city, now. Race ahead of the noble Houses’ agents, run and never stop.

But Thracos would immediately sense Harald’s flight and give chase.

And worse, the combined might of the six Houses would easily catch up with them.

There was no escape.

Already last night’s easy rationale that they could simply give the Crown to the angel-kin felt woefully inadequate. They had no way of contacting her beyond lingering in the dungeon and hoping to draw her attention before the Gold-ranked House squads found them.

It was a naive hope.

Harald closed his eyes and extended his senses. He could feel the tapestry of the city’s energy, hear and smell the vibrancy of life beyond the Sonora walls. Almost he fancied he could taste that metallic undercurrent of fear already coursing through the hidden channels of communication held by the nobility.

A day. He and his friends had perhaps a day before Lady Celestis and Lord Draken and the rest of them hunted down the truth and came knocking at Lady Sonora’s door.

Too many of Gorkin’s guards had seen his face and escaped. Too many of the City Watch had known of Gorkin’s assault on Lady Sonora’s estate the evening before. Thracos himself had heard firsthand from Harald of his intentions to assault Gorkin’s manor.

No. There were too many trails leading the city’s combined military might right here.

Flight from the city would buy them a little time, but to what end? They had no means of readily locating the angel-kin.

That left only two options: take the initiative, approach Lord Draken, say, and give him the Crown, thus removing themselves from danger, or…

Harald opened his eyes, his wry smile turning dark.

Or accept that an incredible gift had fallen into their laps and use it to defend their lives.

Dared they? He considered the forbidden possibility. Dared they use the Crown as it was meant to be used? Was there a way to defend themselves against the other nobles with its power? 

Again, Harald tapped his fingers upon the stone, considering. Six major Houses. Hundreds of Gold and Silver-ranked raiders, thousands of Coppers. Not to mention the thousands upon thousands of regular soldiers and members of the City Watch.

Did the Crown tilt the odds sufficiently in Harald’s favor that utilizing it should prove their best option?

The sky to the east was lightening. Dawn was truly breaking over the city. Soon Sixth Bell would ring. He either made a decision now, or Flutic would act upon him.

His friends would need convincing. Especially Sam.

Harald stared out over the walls. Could he do this? Did he have it within him to wage war against the combined might of the city’s noble Houses?

Not too long ago, he’d have trembled at the thought. Have drawn back. He’d been a Copper-ranked raider, limited in power, terrified of his own potential.

Now?

Harald raised his hand and activated his new power, Shadow Dominion. A tendril of black energy arose from his palm, sinuous and dark as midnight. He recalled how he’d animated the dead, forced them to rise once more to their feet and assault Fosso. A terrible power, one whose limits he’d yet to explore, but not the one that would assist him now.

The shadowy tendril vanished, and he summoned his Window. Gazed past his many stats and powers to his latest Passive:

Thronebound Mantle

The abyss recognizes your ambition and crowns you with its authority. You become a nexus of power, commanding fear and loyalty in equal measure.

Now this might tip the scales in his favor. He’d yet to use it, yet to gauge its effectiveness against those weaker or more powerful than himself, but if he was to wade into the brutal sport of Flutic politics, then this was the power that he’d wield.

No, he was no mere Copper-ranked raider any longer. As a Level 5 Abyssal Master he now qualified as a Silver-ranked raider.

And with the Crown?

Harald allowed himself a moment of wonder and excitement, then turned and left the balcony.

It turned out he wasn’t the only one unable to find sleep.

Kársek was seated in the second parlor, his rune hammer laid across his lap, lips pursed, eyes closed. Vic crouched before the fire, feeding it kindling as he coaxed the flames to life.

Of course. After Gorkin’s assault, Anna no longer had any servants or staff.

“Curse your damnable powers,” said Vic, fighting for levity. “To think you only need sleep for ten minutes and be fully rested. It’s simply unfair.”

“We need to summon the others,” said Harald, stopping just inside the doorway. “There’s much to discuss before any of us should sleep.”

Footsteps sounded from the main hall, and Harald turned to see Nessa and Sam emerge from the back, expressions grim.

“We’re none of us sleeping,” said Nessa. Her eyes were ringed purple with exhaustion, her raven hair bound back into a simple tail.

“Not with the dead needing our respect,” agreed Sam. She was faring better than the rest, her natural strength and athleticism perhaps buoying her up. Or perhaps it was the benefit of owning the Eclipse Edge, whose Epic-level bonuses were beyond anything the rest of them could hope to match. “What’s going on?”

“We’ll need to fetch Anna,” said Harald. “What seemed such a simple plan at Gorkin’s is rapidly falling apart the more I think about it.”

“I’ll see if she can join us,” said Sam, expression wary, and jogged lightly up the grand staircase to the second floor.

“There’s no denying how dire our situation is,” agreed Nessa as she stepped past Harald to enter the parlor. “My mind’s been worrying at the problem since we got back. But I can’t find a solution.” She moved up alongside Vic and spread her hands to the fire. “Have you?”

“Of course he has,” said Vic, poking the logs irritatedly. “Have you forgotten his demon daddy? I’ll wager you an unspecified amount of scales that he’s going to bargain the Crown away—and possibly Sam, too, while he’s at it—in exchange for political immunity or the like.”

Nessa eyed Harald speculatively, but he responded with an enigmatic smile and nothing more.

“We’ll not be giving the Crown to a greater gathul,” said Kársek calmly. “Our deaths are preferable to such an outcome.”

“Now that’s a myopic point of view,” said Vic, sitting back on his heels. “My death would be a national tragedy, and thus almost any alternative is preferable.”

“I’m surprised you qualified it with an ‘almost’,” smiled Nessa.

“Well.” Vic pretended to think. “Damaging my face would be even worse for the national psyche.”

“I don’t intend to give the Crown to Vorakhar,” said Harald, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. “Though there is a high chance that your face might take some slight damage in what’s to come.” Vic went to protest, but Harald forestalled him by raising his hands. “All of our faces might take a little damage.”

“We’ve enough wealth now to buy ourselves a cozy estate in Marheim of several hundred acres,” protested Vic. “Along with our own mercenary troop and an entire nunnery filled with reformed prostitutes.”

Kársek frowned. “One can buy nunneries filled with reformed prostitutes?”

“No, darling,” sighed Vic. “Tragically not. I was painting an idealized dream. But it’s a project I would happily take on, seeing as we would all need to find something with which to stay busy.”

“I knew that,” said Kársek, tone placid. “I was engaging in humor with you by pretending not to.”

“Ah,” said Vic, and blinked. “Well done! Very good attempt. Very promising. But, ah, for now? Leave the humor to those of us who are well versed in such matters.”

Footsteps on the staircase. Anna had changed into clean, functional clothing, washed her face and tied back her auburn hair, but had clearly found no sleep, either.

“I was about to call this meeting myself,” said the Countess as she entered the parlor. Vic arose from his crouch, Kársek dismissed his hammer and stood, and such was Anna’s natural authority that everybody became a shade more formal. “So, I’m glad that you took the initiative, Harald.”

“Yes.” He waited as everyone found seats, though Nessa remained standing by the fireplace. “I think we’re all starting to realize just how much trouble we’re in, and how challenging our proposed solution to find the angel-kin might be in practice.”

“It’s still the right thing to do,” said Sam.

“Sure.” Harald shrugged. “As long as we survive long enough to pull it off. It won’t help the Fallen Angel if we’re arrested and executed later today, and the Eclipse Edge and the Twilight Crown falls into, I don’t know, Lady Celestis’ hands.”

Sam frowned.

“You have a plan,” said Nessa dryly. “Why don’t we skip the preamble and get right to it?”

“I have a suggestion.” Harald took a deep breath. “But despite it’s being our best hope, I don’t think anyone here will like it.”

Vic leaned over to whisper loudly to Anna, “Don’t worry, he’s already agreed not to give anything to Daddy Vorakhar.”

“Don’t call him that,” said Harald and Sam simultaneously.

“Good,” said Anna. “So. Harald. Your suggestion?”

“We have a few Bells during which the Houses will struggle to understand what’s taken place, will summon an emergency session, and set the wheels of power in motion. I’d wager by this afternoon the streets of Flutic will be flooded with City Watch and House-aligned raiders, with all of them looking for us. I also think it’s a fair bet that a Gold-ranked raiding team from each House will come knocking here very, very soon. This is the time to act. Now.”

But he hesitated, knowing that his next words would change the course of history.

“Yes…?” Vic leaned forward. “You’ve got our attention, Harry boy. No need for theatrics.”

“I am currently in possession of the Master,” said Harald, and he summoned the golden armband Artifact from his Cosmos. “This doubles all other Artifact stat bonuses. The Eclipse Edge gifts its bearer a +4 to add stats excepting a +2 to Presence. The Twilight Crown bestows a +5 to both Ego and Presence.”

Nessa snorted. “I knew it.”

“If I equip all three Artifacts,” said Harald, speaking more quickly as he saw Sam’s eyes widen, “I’d be adding +14 to my Presence and +18 to my Ego. That would put me at a grand total of Presence 25 and Ego 41.”

“No offense,” said Vic, “but you’re already insufferable. With those stats…?”

“What are you saying?” demanded Sam, speaking over Vic. “What are you driving at?”

“He wants to go to war,” said Anna quietly. But her tone was less aghast and more contemplative, to Harald’s immense relief.

“War?” Sam glanced at the countess then back to Harald. “How? Yes, what he did at Gorkin’s was… impressive, but we’re going to be facing six Houses. He can’t… I mean… Harald?”

Who took a deep, steady breath as he held Anna’s sober stare. “What I’m proposing is that we equip me with those Artifacts and go pay Lord Draken a visit.”

“Ah!” said Vic, turning to beam at the others. “Now I get it. He wants to become the next King Gustav.” He clucked his tongue. “Boy am I slow sometimes.”

“We force Lord Draken to bend knee,” agreed Harald, “and swear his allegiance to the Crown. Then, with his Gold-ranked raiders, we bluff or force our way into the presence of the next Lord or Lady and do the same again. The more of them we capture right now, while they’re still reeling, the stronger our position when the others finally realize what’s going on.”

Sam’s eyes were wide. “You want to be king?”

“No.” He said the word as clearly and distinctly as he could. “I want to defeat Vorakhar and save the Fallen Angel. I don’t want to play at politics, attend council meetings, and exchange barbs with the likes of Lady Celestis. But I also don’t see any other way to survive long enough to fight the war that really needs our attention if we’re being hunted by Gold-ranked raiders everywhere we go.”

“But to force…” Sam shivered. “That’s just the same as forcing someone into Oathbound servitude.”

“I know.” Harald felt his heart swell with pain. “I’m sorry, Sam. But these are the same people who’ll be demanding our heads in a few Bells’ time. Not just mine, but everyone here’s. Either I take the battle to them while I can, or we’re dead.”

Nessa crossed her arms and stared morosely into the flames. Kársek studied Harald calmly, his gaze inscrutable.

Vic sighed and sat back. “If you’re going to be king, then I demand to be made… well. Viscount? Baron?  I’m not sure just yet, but I will have my demands.”

“Vic!” Sam rounded on him. “You can’t joke about this!”

“Who said I’m joking? Darling. Please. First of all, we all know the nobility deserve little better. Playing their games and spending their scales while half the city starves and scrabbles for food. Second, Harald would make a great king. Well, for us, at any rate, as we’d be part of his inner circle.” Vic studied Harald critically. “We’d have to keep a close eye on his whole ‘demonic influence’ and tendency to massacre people who oppose him, but really, that’s not such a problem. And best yet, we all get to become rich, powerful, important, and famous. Harald will rule, everyone will flock to us for influence over him, and!” He raised a finger, cutting Sam off. “And! Think what Harald could do with all the power of Flutic to aid the Fallen Angel! Hmm? Imagine if all six Houses were forced to right the good fight instead of each other? Unity! Strength! Righteous purpose! That can’t be so bad, can it?”

“It’s slavery,” said Sam, tone dull.

“We have a choice,” said Anna, words precise, tone stern. “A simple choice, and a very real one: either we accept death, or we fight. Harald is correct. Unless this angel-kin presents herself to us within the next few Bells, we will soon face the combined might of Flutic’s noble Houses, and we shall at best be arrested and locked away forever, and at worst executed out of hand. I know which is more probable. Lord Draken’s unwillingness to protect my interests in the face of Gorkin’s assaults taught me all there was to know about their priorities.”

Anna smoothed down the fabric over her lap. “So. Either we accept that we shall soon die either fleeing the city or in some dungeon somewhere, or we fight. And the only effective means of fighting is to use the weapons and Artifacts available to us. Vic was quite correct. Flutic has grown rotten over the centuries, and I for one wouldn’t mourn the passing of its current political guard.”

Sam sat back in her chair. “We could hide in the dungeon. We could pack a month’s worth of food and go deep. Not come back out till we find the angel-kin.”

Vic raised an eyebrow as he glanced dubiously at Harald. “It’s a thought.”

“True.” Harald forced himself to not answer too quickly. Gave the idea some thought. “But it won’t work. Our target floor would be registered, and the Houses would send hunter teams after us.”

Sam went to protest.

“But!” Harald spoke over her. “Say that does work. We live below ground, foraging, fighting, sleeping in shifts for however long it takes. Say we evade the Gold raiders who come pouring in after us, and hand off the Eclipse Edge and the Crown. What then?”

“Then?” Sam sat up straighter. “Then we’re in the clear. We… oh.”

“Right.” Harald waited for the realization to set in. “We come back out, and are immediately arrested by the raiders waiting at the Portal.”

“We’d be dragged before the council,” said Anna quietly. “Interrogated. And when they realized we’d actually given away the Crown, they’d be furious.”

“But we’d not have committed a crime,” protested Sam. “They would have to let us go.”

“Oh come on,” sighed Vic. “Really? Sam? At this stage in the game you’re still this naive? Obviously not. The nobility is nothing if not sadistic and petulant. They’d execute us out of pique.”

Nessa gave a slow nod. “They do so loath being frustrated.”

Sam shook her head. “Still.” For a moment her gaze simply darted from side to side as if she sought another exit, but finally she looked to the Blade Master by the fireplace. “What do you think, Nessa?”

Nessa bit her lower lip and then laughed. “Why ask me? This is far beyond my depth. I’m just an exhausted addict that can barely wield a blade. Look to someone else for moral guidance.”

“No,” said Harald. “You’re far, far more than that, and we all need to know your opinion.”

Nessa glanced sidelong at him, amused, then shrugged. “In that case, let the royal heads roll. If it comes between my life and that of my friends, or the noble heads of the six wretched Houses, well. No contest.”

“That’s Anna, Nessa, Harald, and I in favor of revolution,” said Vic brightly. “Karsy, baby? You just do what Harald tells you, correct?”

“To a large degree, yes.” Kársek’s feathers remained remarkably unruffled. “My metric is honor, and insurrection is made honorable by the intent behind it. Harald. You stated that you wish to survive so as to wage war on behalf of the Fallen Angel and defeat your tharkûn.” The dwarf’s sober stare drilled into Harald. “Is that the whole of it?”

“I…” Harald struggled to find the right words, to still his racing thoughts. “No. I won’t lie to you. Part of me hungers for the power. To continue growing simply to see how far I can go. I am now a Level 5 Abyssal Master. I wish to become Level 6, Level 10, to go as far as I can.”

His voice had grown shaky with emotion, and even Vic’s light smile had disappeared.

“But that ambition isn’t what’s driving me. It’s there, yes, but if that were all I had, I’d… I’d listen to Sam.” He forced himself to meet her stricken gaze. “I know how abhorrent this course of action is. But I truly believe, to the depths of my soul, that the Fallen Angel needs us. We’ve all learned how Flutic has strayed from the righteous path. Instead of using scales to create powerful warriors on her behalf, we’ve grown fat and glutted on her wealth, indulging in politics and corruption. Instead of creating heroes, our society has created monsters like Gorkin. Already five of the seven Thrones have fallen to the demons. If things don’t change, then the remaining two Thrones will also fall, and everything will change. Vorakhar and his kin will become ascendant, and everyone will suffer.”

Harald took a deep breath. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t bow my head and accept death if it means allowing the corrupt and blind to remain in charge. I’m willing to damn myself for the greater good. I’m willing to do whatever is necessary if it means the tide of war shifts in the Fallen Angel’s favor.”

Sam dry swallowed, tears brimming in her eyes.

“And if that means enslaving the heads of the six major Houses, if that means setting myself up as king for the duration of this war, then so be it.” Harald raised his chin, heart thrilling at his own words. “The Twilight Crown is ours. I would use it to save Flutic and the world. But only if everyone here agrees.”

“Yep!” Vic raised his arm. “Complete agreement here.”

“I agree,” said Anna, tone sober, a flush having risen to her cheeks.

“Sure,” smiled Nessa. “It’s better than rotting in a dungeon.”

“I agree,” said Kársek. “I will follow my tharkûn’s lead in this matter.”

All eyes turned to Sam. Her jaw clenched, her knuckles were white, and for a long, aching silence it seemed as if the very room held its breath.

“Yes,” she whispered at last, tears brimming and running down her cheeks. “Yes. For the sake of the Fallen Angel, I agree.”