A Gamer's Guide 356

“Thank you,” Jolene said, deftly hopping onto the side of the carriage in-motion before handing Grandma’s reins to the guard. “Please feed drake, water and munch. Pardons.” The door to the carriage creaked open and she stepped inside, some unseen hand closing it behind her.

As she had assumed, the carriage was indeed entirely dark inside, with all shutters drawn and the king sat in sheer silence. In truth, the most shocking part wasn’t the blackness, but rather the silence that ruled within. She was convinced he must have had the carriage padded somehow, though it was cold enough inside to make this seem a bit less likely. 

In the darkness, across from her, there was only a single silhouette, murky and undefined. And for but a moment, it didn’t even appear to be a person at all. It had a shape like a person, but much like a pile of laundry on a chair in the night, she was assured that it was nothing but that—a pile of something. 

And then it moved, and the petulant stench of fear swayed within the carriage as though alive. A thin, bony hand reached up and removed a hat from a head that she could have sworn had not been there moments ago, and all of a sudden, she could see eyes in the darkness, peering out at her. “I do beg your forgiveness,” the pile that was not a pile said. “I am most honored that you would come to meet me, oh Huntress.”

Reality came to her all at once, and she took off her own hat, pressing it to her chest. “Same to you,” she said, trying her best to make the words sound proper and right. Her pronunciation had never been very good, and she suspected that goblins noticed this too, in the worst way. “Fine army you have. Thousand pardons, why in empire?” Though she loathed to make small talk, especially at a time like this, even apostles were in no position to demand assistance without at least being nice about it. 

The face in front of her changed. In the mild darkness, she could barely even recognize it as a face at all. Yet not, as it altered, it reminded her more and more of something separately alive—a swarm of snakes, or perhaps a mound of rats, now all shifting and altering themselves. “Pardon. May I illuminate us? I enjoy the darkness for meditation, but when having discussions, it tends to become a bit too much.”

“I not mind,” Jolene said, a phrase she knew the second it left her lips would be sure to insult him out of sheer ridiculousness. But when the lights came on with a wave of his hand, a dim halo appearing at their side, she was startled to find him smiling mirthfully. Slightly shaken, she asked, “I say something?”

“No, not at all. I beg your pardon. It is simply that I find your speaking very pleasant. A man I once knew made me loathe the well-spoken. Hearing someone of such plain, simple words is a delight to my ears.”

“You speak well,” she noted. The word she sought wasn’t quite hypocrite, but rather… “Difficult to be with self, have you?”

The king elicited a chuckle. “Occasionally, yes. Thank you for expressing it in such a way, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it said so succinctly.”

“My joy.”

The king shifted where he sat. Even if she had wanted to, she could not have counted the layers he wore, from his shirt to his corset to his waistcoat to his jacket to his overcoat. Though he was by no means a living pile of laundry, there was certainly more cloth than man before her, a fact that made her both remember and be thankful for her cold resistance. “But you have not come to chat about such things, your divinity. Now, speak. Though the God of Hunting is no patron of me or my country, he is one of the founding creators of our modern world. If it is within my power to grant, I shall do so, if you only speak your wish.”

“Gratitude. It is big ask I bring, but I need men-on-drake. Mere hours remain. They may not return. Big ask, for they lives. However, many lives at stake. Many tonight. More tomorrow. This, I beg of you.” If she had wanted to, she could have asked for Prince’s help to create a truly engaging speech. Something that might sway his heart and tell him every detail of what was to come. However, that wouldn’t have come from her heart. And so, her speech was a clunky, disorderly mess spoken in the tongue of a child, or perhaps a mongrel. In other words, it was entirely sincere. Certain that she could have said it in no better way, she bowed her head, praying silently that it might work. 

“Please, your divinity, raise your head. It is not becoming of an apostle to bow to a mere king.” Roused by his words, Jolene did as he asked to find him smiling at her, as gently as a father might. Yet, she had the feeling that he was no older than her, despite his worn expression. “It would be an honor to assist your battle against the God of Kings, and if all you ask for is my cavalry, I shall be glad to give it. You speak of hours—you must be in great haste.”

“I am, your majesty.”

“Then, leave at once. Outside, you will find my general of the cavalry, Sythe Elt. He is a good man, though a bit quick to bow. Had he not been such an excellent warlord, he would have made for the perfect ambassador. You will recognize him, as he will surely command even his drake to bow to you—and he enjoys keeping several feathers in his cap. Bring him, and he is sure to be of use to you.”

“Deep gratitude,” she said, even though the thought of bringing along Sythe was far from encouraging. “Ride fast, all I need.”

“Good. Now, before you go…” Leaning forward, he placed his hand on her head, his fingers easily pressing through her wily locks to nestle atop her skull. “By the God of Multitudes… Bring swiftness upon this hoeksak… Bring her strength… Bring her the power she needs to undo the deathmongering of the God of Kings… View her with Your hundredfold eyes and hundredfold wills… And hold her dear, should her battle end tonight. Aye.”

“Aye,” Jolene said, feeling her head and chest filling with strength and divinity. “Gratitude, your majesty.”

Removing his hand, the king smiled warmly at her. “Now, you must be off. Do as the Gods have dictated you to. Let Their will be done through you, and you will surely find salvation.”

“I will.”

“Now go! Waste no time here. Be off, and may the Gods be with you!”

Bidding farewell, Jolene replaced her hat upon her head, shook the king’s hand, and left into the stark light of the outside. Going by the placement of the sun, the time was almost two. Only a few hours left until twilight. 

Leaping back atop Grandma, she turned to Sythe, who was still lingering outside. “Gather your fastest men,” she told him. “We must ride at once!”

“Yes, lady Huntress!”

In the distance, she could smell the scent of the herald, drawing ever-nearer. The stench of rotten, fermenting grapes was as overpowering as the fear had been on the king—a fear she had yet to comprehend. Now that she thought about it, he never did answer her when she asked what his business had been in the empire. 

She shook her head. It was unnecessary. For now, she had to focus on the battle to come. And still, when she focused on that overpowering, sweet-rotten odor approaching from the East… She couldn’t help but feel that the king was right.

It would take a miracle for them to win this.