Major Updates To Book 2 (Chapters 48 - 88)

As promised, here's Part 2 of the general updates I've made to Harald's tale.

Again, the general outline remains much the same, but with a greater emphasis added throughout both as to the danger of Harald remaining unaffiliated with a major House, and the accelerated schedule of his losing Darrowdelve Manor.

The sole major edit is making Harald's petition to join House Sonora a far more intense moment by having Lady Yseult Khan refuse to take 'no' for an answer. Here's the scene:

LADY YSEULT KHAN'S AUDIENCE

There was a distinct rap on the front door, and they all twisted as one to stare.

“Flutic Treasury, perhaps?” guessed Sam. “Come to evict us?”

“No, we’ve a day or two left.” Harald rose to his feet. “Unless they moved the date up again?” He led his friends into the entrance hall and opened the door.

Lady Yseult-Khan stood outside, clad in her wondrous golden half-plate worn over her bodysuit of midnight blue. Her cape of cerulean flowed from her shoulders, thick and voluminous, and she held her intimidating helm under one arm, so that her silver-white mane of hair cascaded down past her shoulders.

Damn it, thought Harald. Had she somehow been alerted to their dinner plans? “Lady Yseult. What a lovely surprise.”

“Harald,” said Yseult, her tone as sober as her gaze. “Lady Ermarine.”

“This is my good friend, Samantha Tuppins,” said Harald. “Will you come in?”

Lady Yseult nodded and stepped over the threshold. Her presence filled the entrance hall, stealing the air in a way that her previous visit hadn’t. Harald led the way into the parlor, and found himself wishing that Vic were here to help with the intensity.

They sat.

Lady Yseult’s poise was perfect; her back stiff, her shoulders squared, her cloak gathered to one side. For a moment she simply subjected Harald to her probing stare, and he was glad once more for his Ego 23, for he was able to meet its full weight without flinching.

“We received your elegantly penned response,” began the Gold-ranked raider. “My sister was touched at the sentiments, but ultimately frustrated at the lack of an answer. She bid me visit you to see if we can reach a clearer understanding of your position.”

Oh shit.

“I see,” said Harald. “And I appreciate your, ah, interest in nailing down my position.” He resisted the urge to glance at his friends. “Unfortunately, I’m not yet ready to declare my loyalty for any House. I do hope you understand.”

Kársek appeared in the parlor entrance, dressed in a sober uniform of dove grays and earthen browns. He stopped at the sight of their guest, one of his blond brows rising in surprise.

Lady Yseult nodded slowly, taking in the dwarf and promptly dismissing him, her blue eyes glittering. “As I imagined. I appreciate your candor, Harald, but Melisende entrusted me with making the urgency of the matter clear. Her patience runs thin. We’re aware that other Houses have expressed their interest in recruiting you, as is right and proper, but she asked that I impress upon you the wisdom of joining House Celestaris.”

“She made a compelling case after dinner,” said Harald.

Kársek entered the parlor, following the wall to stand beside the fireplace. His gravitas was such that Lady Yseult’s gaze was pulled to the dwarf almost against her will.

“Not compelling enough, it seems. I’m sorry, but who is this?”

“My apologies, let me introduce the latest member of the Throne Hunters, Kársek.”

“Ah,” said Lady Yseult, her manner relaxing but a fraction as Karsek bowed. “Your gardener, yes. As I was saying. You stand to gain many advantages if you accept her offer. I won’t repeat them, but I trust you’re aware that her offer is exceedingly generous. But clearly that’s not the correct form of inducement.”

Nessa’s tone was sharp. “And what is, Lady Khan?”

“We’re all adults here.” The Gold-ranked raider kept her gaze locked on Harald. “We all understand the stakes. There is a clear and correct choice for Harald to make, one which would benefit him greatly and then there is an incorrect choice.”

“Lady Yseult,” said Harald softly. “That sounds passingly close to a threat.”

“Only if you take it as such,” said Lady Yseult. “House Celestaris has risen to the heights of power, commands the authority it wields and boasts such a deep stable of raiders and incredible wealth because my sister does not hesitate to act in whatever manner furthers our House’s needs. On one hand that can mean sparing no expense in outfitting and supporting the careers of House Celestaris raiders. On the other hand, it can mean zero tolerance for anything that endangers or puts our House at a disadvantage.”

Harald felt his pulse pick up, felt his guts clench. It was no small thing to sit across from such a powerful being and hear such words.

Nessa, however, sounded exasperated. “Oh come, Lady Yseult. If this is meant to impress us, it’s not doing the job. If anything, the danger was more persuasive when it remained the subtext. Such crude extortion demeans House Celestaris and yourself both.”

Lady Yseult raised one perfectly arched brow. “Quite the opposite, Lady Ermarine. I possess a singular appreciation for directness and have done Harald the same courtesy.” She looked at Harald. “So please, in light of everything that is at stake, respond to my sister’s offer.”

“Now?” Harald just barely kept his tone level. “I already—”

“Now,” cut in Lady Yseult.

“I see.” Harald sat up slightly straighter. “You force the issue.”

“I do indeed. Master Darrowdelve: will you or will you not accept our invitation to join House Celestaris?”

Harald held the woman’s glittering gaze. It was mesmerizing. He recalled Lady Hammerfell’s ability to level entire segments of the Dungeon Plaza with one swing of her blade, and thought on how Lady Yseult was ranked higher than she. If she wanted to, Lady Yseult could kill the three of them right here and now without any effort whatsoever.

Was that what she was threatening? To slaughter them if he refused?

Harald stood.

Nessa and Sam did the same.

Lady Yseult remained seated, one brow still arched, waiting.

“Then it is with great regret that I must decline,” said Harald, voice unnaturally calm to his own ears. “Please tender my sincere regrets to Lady Melisende.”

Lady Yseult pursed her lips, nodded as if his words had confirmed some privately held suspicion, and rose to her feet. “A pity, Harald. But I’m afraid I can’t allow you to make this mistake. Please accept my invitation to return with me to House Celestara, where we can continue this conversation.”

“The matter is closed, Lady Yseult. There is nothing left to discuss.”

Nessa was gliding out wide, but she was without her blade. Sam’s eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling. Even Kársek seemed affected, for the dwarf was trembling, his brow creased into a deep frown, his blue-green eyes glittering as he focused on Lady Yseult.

Who smiled, completely at ease, and rose to her feet. “You are in no position to refuse my invitation. If I wish you to accompany me home, then accompany me you shall.”

Harald’s pulse was pounding in his ears. There was nothing in the depths of Yseult’s azure eyes but calm confidence. To resist was futile. Even if they were fully geared up and deployed their Artifacts and Servitors, they stood not a chance in hell of resisting.

“Hello!” Vic’s voice rang out as he entered the hallway, shopping bags hanging from the crook of his elbow. “Who summoned the Celestara carriage…outside?”

Lady Yseult finally rose to her feet. Her eyes had narrowed, her gaze turned flat. “If I have to carry you out over my shoulder like a squalling babe, I shall do so. If I must step over the corpses of your companions in the process, then so be it. Accept inevitability, Harald Darrowdelve. Summon what dignity remains to you, bow your head to my sister’s will, and follow me outside.” The air crackled with tension, with power. “I shall not ask again.”

“Nobody threatens my tharkûn,” whispered Kársek from beside the fireplace. “Khazadrok.”

Harald saw the rune. Massive as a barn door, ghostly and geometric in the style of dwarven writing, it appeared before Kársek and flashed toward Lady Yseult, who let out a cry of rage and shock. She managed to cross her arms before her, summoning a curvature of pale gold in the air just before the rune impacted.

The result was explosive, thunderous, overwhelming.

Lady Yseult was blasted off her feet with such violence that she flew across the room as if launched by a trebuchet. Her shoulders and head impacted a distant book case mere seconds before the rune itself hit the wall.

Everything shattered outwards with a concussive roar. The shelving, books, stonework, all of it fragmented as Lady Yseult flew outside to hurtle into the overgrown shrubberies that lined the manor’s flank.

Chunks of masonry pulled free from the top of the massive square hole that now opened the side of the parlor to the garden and sky, and crashed down onto the debris.

Harald gaped. The very air tasted of heated metal. Only Kársek’s panting breaths filled the silence, the young dwarf suddenly so weak that he sank to one knee, his ruddy complexion reduced to a waxen pallor.

“What…” whispered Nessa, awestruck. “But…”

Harald wanted to laugh, to rake at his face with his fingers, to gape. But Sam’s Beacon of Hope washed over him, and his faculties snapped back into acuity.

“She can’t be hurt,” he whispered. “She’s definitely not dead. Run.”

Chapter 39

Vic yanked open the front door even as he hurled the shopping bags aside. “The carriage!”

“The House Celestara carriage?” cried out Sam in disbelief.

“It’s got four wheels,” said Harald, rushing to Kársek’s side. “That’s all we need!”

The dwarf was grimacing as if experiencing deep intestinal pain. “Go without me. I’ll try to hold her back.

“That’s not how we operate,” said Harald, clamping down on all the questions and incredulity. “Hurry!”

Nessa took Kársek’s other arm, and together they rushed out the parlor just as a spear of golden light flashed into the room from outside, so bright that it seared Harald’s vision and reduced everything to a muted roar. A barrel sized portion of the wall disappeared, perfectly disintegrated, and Harald realized the attack had missed Kársek’s head by inches.

Everybody rushed out the front door and pounded down the driveway. Harald wanted to cast terrified glances behind himself, but what was the point? He retained an iron control of his fear. He and Nessa all but carried Kársek out of the iron gate that Vic had flung open, and right up to the pearlescent carriage that awaited outside.

It was a gorgeous affair. Four matched white mares stood in the reins, while two House Celestar guards stared at them with the same shock Harald was feeling himself.

Vic glared up at the men. “Harry, your aura!”

Both the Aching Depths and Vic’s Aura of Cruelty washed over both men as Vic leaped up alongside their carriage seat.

“Gentlemen, jump or die.”

A cry of pure fury came from inside the manor.

The men exchanged a glance and jumped down to the street.

Sam yanked open the carriage door. Nessa helped Harald lever the dwarf inside, even as Vic cracked the whips and cried out, “Hyah! Hyah!”

The carriage lurched forward, almost leaving Harald behind, who flung himself after it and caught Sam’s outstretched hand.

She pulled him into the carriage, the door swinging back and forth. Vic steered them into the street, eliciting a string of curses from a hansom cab as it was forced to veer aside.

Harald, gasping, clutched at the carriage’s doorframe and leaned out to peer behind him, not daring to think them yet safe.

They weren’t.

Yseult came racing into view, arms pumping, her helm hiding her features, hair streaming behind her. She leaned into the turn, moving out into the street, intent on giving pursuit.

“Faster, Vic!” cried Harald, pitching his voice to carry over the roar of the wheels. “Faster!”

The four horses were magnificent, chosen to represent House Celestara’s glory and wealth, and now they proved their mettle. The carriage continued to accelerate as the horses broke into a gallop, a speed never used on the common thoroughfares. The carriage jounced and lurched as it hurtled over the cobblestones, faster and faster, swaying violently as Vic screamed out warnings and guided the four horses as best he could around the more placid traffic.

It was madness. People screamed their curses and outrage, and twice the carriage tilted right over onto two wheels, the whole of it teetering on complete collapse.

But always Harald kept his gaze behind them.

On the figure of Yseult Khan, the third ranked raider in all of Flutic, who refused to give up the chase.

And who was gaining on them.

She sprinted tirelessly, arms pumping mechanically like a scale-golem, so nimble that no obstacle slowed her down. Once she leaped clear over a carriage, soaring up into the air, and at the apex of her jump she swept her hand, a sword appearing momentarily in her hand so that she unleashed a flash of golden light.

“Down!” screamed Harald, diving for the floor.

Sam and Nessa pulled the woozy Kársek atop him, and then the upper corner of the carriage exploded into splinters and light.

Sam screamed, but all Harald could think was to twist around and gaze up through the wooden rent at the carriage seat where Vic should have been.

It was bare.

Harald’s heart shuddered in horror. Had that strike cut his friend in half, incinerated him instantaneously?

“Appreciate the warning, Harry!” screamed Vic, swinging back up into view, his expression wild, his grin stretching nearly ear to ear. “Whoo!”

The horses were straining in the harnesses, fighting for every ounce of speed as they tore along Baldric Avenue. Faster and faster, Vic laughing and shouting commands for people to clear the way.

Were this any earlier or later, there would have been too much traffic, and they’d have been doomed.

As it was, they swayed from side to side, everyone jostling within the carriage, Karsek lying on his back, eyes closed, skin ashen. Sam had a hand on his brow, and her Beacon of Hope aura was comforting them all, along with something more: Guardian’s Mantle.

It overlay the first aura like a cooling damp cloth, deepening the first while bolstering not only Harald’s mind and confidence, but his very body. He felt his reserves replenishing, his physical resilience deepening.

Hopefully it would help counter whatever damage Kársek had done to himself.

Harald peered outside once more, searching for that deadly figure.

There.

Yseult had fallen back. Even she, it seemed, couldn’t sprint as fast as a galloping horse forever.

But she wasn’t giving up. She navigated the snarled traffic that Vic left in his wake with effortless skill, vaulting and veering around stalled and crashed carts, carriages, and cabs, her hair and ruined cloak flying behind her.

They were tearing through the Angelic Quarter at terrific speed. Harald’s heart still raced, and he wanted to laugh, exhilarated at having escaped such certain death.

“Almost there!” cried Vic. “Big turn. Hold on!”

The carriage slowed, rocked, and then they rose up on both left wheels as they veered hard to the right. Sam screamed again even as Nessa grabbed Harald and yanked him over to the rising side of the carriage, providing counter-weight.

For an endless, gut-churning second Harald swore they’d flip over and crash onto their side, but then the carriage straightened out and the wheels hit the cobblestones once more, and they were off.

“Where’d he learn to drive like that?” cried out Sam, clutching a headrest.

Nessa laughed. “Vic excels at evading furious pursuit!”

“Look sharp!” cried Vic. “Sonora up ahead!”

Harald peered out and behind them once more, and gave an involuntary shout of alarm. Yseult was only a dozen yards behind them, leaning into her sprint, coming right after them.

Harald didn’t think.

He summoned the Goldchops.

Both hatchets appeared beside him, then flew without fear or hesitation right at the Gold-ranked raider.

The collided almost instantaneously. Heart in his throat, Harald watched, hoping against hope that the Masterwork Artifact might stop Yseult, but she simply ducked under them both so that they flew past her, and kept coming.

“Fuck,” hissed Harald, but then he sensed the hatchets reverse their direction and come right back.

Yseult wasn’t surprised, necessarily, but this time one hatchet came in low, the other high.

Her golden shield flared, encircling her completely, and both hatchets detonated. Harald felt the shock of their returning to his Cosmos, and out of sheer desperation summoned Shadowpaw so that he fell upon her even as he materialized.

The Shadow Mastiff’s fury and surprise came powerfully through their bond. The hound bayed as he fell upon the Gold-ranked raider, claws slashing, and Harald swung the Dawnblade and unleashed a Demonic Edge.

Had Shadowpaw not been a Level 27 Servitor, had Harald’s own Soul Rank been divine, surely neither would have had any effect on Yseult.

And to all intents they practically didn’t. A ghostly figure of a winged woman appeared in the Demonic Edge’s path, absorbing the crackling black energy, even as the golden sphere appeared once more around Yseult, incinerating Shadowpaw.

But perhaps it was his doom-laden howl, or some combination of factors, because Yseult’s next step twisted on the cobblestones and she tripped, twisting as she fell to roll rapidly along the ground, round and round, then slide out.

“Yes!” screamed Harald, punching the ceiling of the carriage with such savage joy that he smashed his fist through the wood.

But Yseult, even falling behind as she was, leaped to her feet, unhurt, and came after.

“Here we go!” cried Vic. “No time to talk, just get through the gate!”

And then he was hauling back on the reins as Sonora Manor slid into view, its high stone walls marred by ivy and moss.

They carriage slowed before the wrought iron gate that was set into an elaborately carved archway, but clearly wasn’t going to stop. Trusting in his companions, Harald leaped down to the moving sidewalk, landing roughly and staggering even as his friends jumped down after, Vic abandoning the carriage altogether.

The Sonora coat of arms was emblazoned overhead. Twin modest gatehouses flanked the entrance, though only one boasted a sentry. The gate itself was in the process of being restored; one half gleamed as if freshly scrubbed and painted, while the second yet bore the signs of rust and wear.

The sentry stepped neatly out of his guardhouse then cried out in anger as Vic hauled open the gate and dove inside. Harald and the others piled after, only to turn and gaze out into the street as Nessa slammed the gate shut once more.

Yseult came into view so quickly that she actually slid along the sidewalk as she turned to stop; her hair wild, her uniform and cloak shredded, her armor gleaming and undamaged.

“What is the meaning of this?” roared the sentry, an elderly man, rail thin and boasting an incredible mustache that completely hid the lower half of his face. “This is private property!”

“Bosworth! Darling, it’s me, Vic.” The sentry oriented on the Rapier Regent. “We were expected for dinner, remember?”

Yseult stepped up to the barred gate. “You. Sentry. These people are wanted by House Celestara, whose full authority I represent. Grant me access to step on your property and retrieve them.”

Bosworth was puffing out his mustache, glancing back and forth between Vic and the deeply menacing woman outside his gate. “It is with sincere regret that I must deny you this request!” His shout was shaky, but his whole body seemed to vibrate with purpose. “The sanctity of House Sonora is mine to protect, and I shall not allow violence to occur to Lady Sonora’s guests while I yet draw breath!”

Yseult inclined her head. “But of course. House Celestara would never dream of violating House Sonora’s demesne. Please convey my good wishes to your lady, and inform her that I wish to speak with Harald Darrowdelve as soon as she is done with him.”

Harald remained perfectly poised despite wishing to sag with relief. That iron gate was purely symbolic. Yseult could have torn it aside with her bare hands. But to transgress on Sonora’s property would involve Lord Draken, and she would then be forced to account for that transgression before the Assembly.

Not, it seemed, something she was willing to do for Harald’s sake.

“Cheers, Bozzy,” said Vic, raking his golden hair back. “Any idea what the countess is serving for dinner? I forgot to bring the wine.”

The old sentry glared at Vic, then bowed stiffly to Yseult. “I shall bring your message to my lady. Mr. Carmine, Ms. Ermarine, and your… friends… please accompany me.”

And with a stiff gait, the old man led them up the driveway, leaving Yseult to watch them through the bars.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harald's audience with Countess Sonora then roughly follows the previous version, though they skip small talk over dinner and get right down to what matters. When he overplays his hand, Sonora refuses his request, and for a moment it looks like he'll be thrown to the wolves. But then he rallies, makes his impassioned speech, and Sonora relents. She accepts his service, and he is saved from Lady Yseult.

That marks the end of Book 2.

I'm currently refashioning the remaining chapters for what will be Book 3, and will post those updates later this week once I'm done updating and re-ordering them.

Thanks again for your patience with this process, and I hope you guys are enjoying the edits!