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“Halt, foul king! Face us in combat! Or are you too cowardly
to face true heroes?”
Yet again, a ragtag
band of men, wearing chainmail and holding swords, axes, and spears in their
hands, came to deal with him. Infiltrated the white, steely walls of his
castle, annoyed his servants enough to point them in the right direction, and,
judging from their swollen gold bags, looted some of the treasure rooms he
explicitly asked his advisors to patrol better.
“You’ll just get the money back off their corpses!” they said. “Just
splatter them against the walls!” they said.
Clearly, they didn’t remember how long it took to clean the
gore off the walls and carpet, as well as the utter guilt that came even before
he wrote condolences to that poor group’s families.
As the heroes pointed blades towards him, the king slowly stood
up from his golden throne, light reflecting off of his shining, crimson armor. He
adjusted his crown helmet, making sure his long horns actually fit through the
holes on top. After a moment’s worth of stretching, the mighty king said,
“Fifth time I’ve heard that this week alone. All of you heroes are starting to
sound like a broken record, and it’s quite disappointing. But sure, I will
humor your attempts, as I have for several heroes before you. I have to be
fair, at least.”
One man spat out,
“Are you making a mockery of the Yules?! You have no clue how truly powerful we
are, Dread Warlock Deathflame! We have trained for this VERY MOMENT, so we can
end your reign of terror!”
“As have several others like you,” Deathflame replied with a
bored look. “I am at least willing to see just how powerful you are as a group,
but I will warn you… There is a very good reason I’m still here, and others are
recovering from the injuries I inflicted upon them. So pardon me if I don’t
have much faith in you, even if I wish you the best of luck.”
The men clenched their teeth and gripped their weapons
tightly as they charged towards Deathflame, who made nary an effort to avoid
them. They roared in unison, their weapons clashing against the king’s armor.
Swords and axes left scratches where they left, but the king did not budge, nor
did he flinch as a spear struck his face. They were mere pinpricks to him,
hardly the horrible pain the heroes thought they would inflict upon him.
Deathflame sighed as he pulled the spear out of his face and
tossed it aside, ducking underneath the longswords and greatswords and kicking an axe out of one Yule’s hand. It flew up and lodged itself deep in the
ceiling, much to the astonishment of its wielder. Deathflame backed away as the
Yules regrouped, whispering things to one another as the king dusted himself
off.
“And that is the
result of your training?” Deathflame asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. “If
so, it would take a week for me to feel remotely sore from your blows. Do you
have any sort of magic at your disposal?”
The group shook their heads as one scrawny man yelled out,
“Magic’s fer witches! Real warriors let their weapons do the talkin, instead of
this fancy hocus-pocus!”
“Do kindly tell that to the one man long ago who used
Spellswords against me and actually stood a chance. I’m sure he will have quite
the speech prepared for you.” Deathflame let out another sigh as he placed a
hand on his chin. “Okay. I am afraid to say this, but… as you are now, you may
be better off with more training and a more open mind towards magic. Again, one
week to even make me remotely sore. That, and your armor is woefully
inadequate. Usually, the cream of the crop wears Mythril to withstand physical
and magical forces better.”
They didn’t take the advice too well, judging from the
Yules’ growling and gritted teeth. “Is that how you look upon us?!” a Yule
snapped. “Thinking that we’re not good enough for you?!? We don’t need your
advice, and we don’t need any fancy-shmancy stuff to defeat you!”
“The last time someone said that, they had their ribs broken
from one of my punches.”
“Oh, quit bluffin' and just show us your power already!”
Deathflame groaned as the men steeled themselves for his
blows. They thought he was bluffing? That’s no good. Nobody worth their salt
would underestimate their opponent. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt
as he conjured an ethereal greatsword and held it in his hands. With one swing
and all the restraint he could muster, Deathflame unleashed a shockwave that
blew the Yules off their feet and flying in several directions. Most left dents
in the wall, while a few managed to tumble down a staircase or crash right into
a crowd of servants. One glance told Deathflame all he needed to know: they
were out cold, and they weren’t going to wake up anytime soon.
With yet another hollow victory under his belt, the
so-called Dread Warlock Deathflame looked down at his hands as if he were ready
to sob.
“They didn’t stand a chance.”
Deathflame was not impressed by the gaggle of advisors that
visited him hours after that poor excuse of a battle, especially when they were
all crowding him at once. At least the heroes were removed from the walls and
sent to the nearest hospital with haste. The last thing he needed was to see
his advisors making sure they never got up again… or worse, use them as their
little pets to torture.
“Fantastic work on defeating those pathetic worms who defy
your rule, Your Majesty!” one advisor, a stout, fluffy eagle, said with glee.
He placed a talon on his king’s shoulder as he squawked, “Honestly, I don’t
know why they bother trying to dethrone you!”
“Never mind that,” said a slimy, worm-like creature, an odd
fluid dripping onto the King’s armor as he spoke in his ear. “Why do you keep
sparing them?! What you should be doing is a public execution! Like quartering!
I love quartering, you see, your father used to do that all the time-“
Another advisor chimed, “I don’t know; burning them alive is
more fun! All those useless attempts to scream and put out the fires-“
Yet another huffed, “Please. Where I am from, we used
traitors as… lab rats, let’s say. It had very interesting results, seeing those
so-called heroes turn into something they despised.”
More and more
advisors talked about their favorite forms of torture, Deathflame clenching a
fist and growling until he finally snapped, “ENOUGH!” The entire room fell
silent as he cast a glare upon them all. “I will not sink to such lows for your
amusement. Honestly, I hardly understand why you relish in the misery of men.”
“We hardly understand why you felt the need to send
condolences to the families of some heroes you killed!” retorted the eagle,
puffing up to three times his size. “Lord Terrorhate would cringe at the
thought-“
“Much like I cringe at the fact that my father actually kept
that title, then. And if you must ask, it was because they wouldn’t have a body
to bury, due to my lack of restraint in the face of inexperienced heroes. Some
death is necessary, like in war, but those deaths? No. Restrained blows alone
would have sufficed.”
If the worm had any eyes to roll, all of them would be
rolled to the back of his head. “Such softheartedness will bring about the end
of our era of terror! The peasants NEED to be put in their place, and shown
that their heroes are NOTHING! That no one could save them now, and the sooner
they accept your rule, the less they will suffer!”
As the advisors chimed in and added their opinions on
Deathflame’s rule, he looked away from them and grunted.
“Alright, I have two points to address. One: you say that as
if the end of an era of terror is a bad thing. You merely wish to use it as an
excuse to inflict misery upon the people and show complete and utter dominance.
Last I checked, dominating the world does not require you to be a tyrant to do
it right. Yes, I do a few things the people dislike… Some for the better,
others arguably for the worse. But a ruler does not have to be liked; they have
to be competent enough to maintain everything. And not bring the entire ire of
their people by slaughtering them by the dozens for absolutely no good reason.
“
The advisors looked at him, dumbfounded. “Okay, since that
is apparently going over your heads,” Deathflame said, “let me put this into
simpler terms: A ruler doesn’t have to be nice, but they also have to have
enough sense not to kill people senselessly and make a spectacle of it!” As one
advisor opened his mouth, Deathflame added with a growl, “Just because my
father did things like that doesn’t mean I have to, before you even try to
compare me to him! With how terrible he was at ruling and how many people he
slaughtered just because of, ahem, ‘stress relief’, no wonder so many people
have tried to take my head because of stuff HE did!”
Still ogling. He wasn’t sure if the message got through to
these idiots, but he could try it again some other time. Deathflame took a deep
breath and continued, “The second point I wanted to make… Why does everyone
here insist on calling me Dread Warlock Deathflame?”
The eagle advisor squawked with a smile, “Because it makes
you sound absolutely vicious, Your Majesty! And it’s what your father would
have wanted!”
Face, meet palm. “Forget what my father wanted! I made that
title up when I was twelve! TWELVE! It’s embarrassing that you thought it was
good enough to use! Now, I just wish I be called by my true name: Etrohus! King
Etrohus sounds much better than King Dread Warlock Deathflame.” After a
moment’s thought, he added meekly, “I don’t even remember the last time I used
actual warlock skills, never mind fire spells. It’s a misnomer now, more than
anything.”
“I still think it fits!” the eagle said. “You know the
spells! No, you know the spells of our entire world! You know all the skills, and
are the strongest on the planet! You are invincible and all-powerful, Your
Majesty, and the fact that you humble yourself amongst those who would slay you
is absolutely disgusting! You mustn’t hold back against your opponents,
especially not traitors!”
Etrohus took off his helmet and ran a gauntleted hand
through his long, black hair before he slumped in his chair and rested his
cheek on his hand. “Thank you for reminding me of a third point,” he said with
a frown. “With all the power I’ve acquired through intensive training and
learning through others… Fights are trivial now. Boring. Nobody stands a
chance. It just annoys me to no end that the thrill and excitement and utter
happiness I once got from fighting people on par with me, or even stronger than
me, is gone. I am the strongest there is, and quite frankly, the excitement of
being able to beat everyone I know wears off pretty quickly.” He sighed,
sinking into the soft velvet of his seat with a sorrowful expression on his
face. “I just want that joy again, that excitement of striving for something,
the thrill of a challenging fight! I want to travel the world and experience it
for everything its worth! I want… I want…”
The advisors gasped in unison as the last few words escaped
their kings’ lips.
“I don’t wish to follow in my father’s footsteps and crush
all in my wake, nor do I want to spend the rest of my life stuck in this
castle, wanting for nothing. I want to feel as vulnerable as the people who
face me every day, struggle like the lower class, and lead my own path instead
of pretending that the way my family ruled and gained this throne was
right.”
Quiet. Murmurs amongst the advisors. Etrohus raised an
eyebrow, although he knew the question that would rise.
“But WHY?!”
“Live like the lower class?! Are you crazy?!?”
“Vulnerable, when you have all the power at your disposal?!?
When you are the supreme ruler of this world?!?”
Etrohus rolled his eyes before he slammed his fist down,
startling the advisors into silence. “Yes, it would be a stupid idea by your
standards,” he said. “There is nothing better than ruling over people and
feeling on top of the world and so on and so on. But it seems, to me at least,
that those unlike us… the lower, the middle class, even some of the knights,
that they enjoy life fuller. They have something to strive for, and they make
the most of every moment, while we waste all the moments we have throwing
luxurious parties and-“ When it was clear that the advisors were still in
disbelief and hardly listening, Etrohus groaned, “Why do I even bother
explaining? I don’t even enjoy the villainous aspects of ruling! I simply want
a fresh, new start!”
“BUT YOUR MAJESTY!” the advisors all yelled at once, Etrohus
hurrying to cover his ears lest they bleed. One advisor said, “Couldn’t you
just, you know, make the heroes stronger, if there’s a challenge you seek?”
Another added, “Or you could strive to conquer another
planet! And get more riches!”
“Making heroes stronger just to satisfy my need for a
challenge… I feel sick just thinking about it. Especially if they lose anyway.
And I have no desire to conquer another planet or become richer. It’s better if
I start over at level 1 again, so to speak.”
“Turn yourself into a child aga-“
Etrohus shot his advisor a glare. “Not that. I mean weaken
myself to before I became the person I am now, lose all the knowledge of
powerful spells… Start from scratch, you see. I’d retain most of my memories
and basic knowledge, while those pertaining to my strength, both physical and
magical, are… poof. Gone.” A smile crossed his face as he added, “And then, I’d
set off for a different planet, after having some hero pretend to kill me and
allowing a new rule to rise. I need to get out more anyway, learn so much more
about the galaxy at hand… and I’ve been gaining in pounds since I took over,
anyway.” The king pointed to his bulging gut. “I need exercise more than
anything, and what better way to handle that than to explore an entirely new
planet?”
He grinned now, in spite of the advisors’ worried looks. The
worm spoke up and asked, “You would give up all of what your father toiled to
attain through several hundreds of years just to satisfy your selfish desire
for a challenge?! He slew countless heroes without mercy and actually got the
Genie’s Lamp to make his wish for domination come true! You would throw away
your father’s legacy just because you dislike what you are given?!?”
The king looked at his advisor with a stern look.
“I would, because he’s a liar and a fraud. I want nothing to
do with a legacy that involved lying to your family about how and why you did
the things you did and making them stain their hands for you.”
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