The Conciege
patreon
ROTLE- Chapter 145- Gatherers
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 15:43:32 +0000 UTCThey had set up a residence in one of the homes that had somehow survived the attack. Here they made battle plans whenever they needed to. It would not be long before they stormed Nel Quan. Until then, they needed to make the necessary plans required to gain their victory.
It had only been a month or two since he’d known the boy but Oyedi could feel the absence of Ebube like a missing limb. The boy’s cold detachment had been a consolation, a reminder that intelligent people still survived.
Oyedi tried to cast the melancholy that tried to settle over him with a shake of his head. A touch of it fled him, but most of it remained.
He willed himself to the present, the here and now.
Oyedi sat in a dimly lit living room. The building they had set aside for him was modest. Unlike most of the other houses, it had been constructed from stone and stone alone. Thick wooden balusters stretched overhead, dark with age. Tapestries adorned the ground where they had once hung from walls, none was an actual person, merely of nature and locations—faded depictions of forests and seas, aftermaths of battle fields, and the sky in different seasons.
The air smelled of burning wood, dried herbs, and old wool. He attributed those to the herbs cabinet that lay open, the hearth that had died out long ago, and the clothes they lay strewn across the ground.
They had not bothered to clean the place thoroughly because he had not given them the time. He, on his own part, did not bother to clean it either. Whoever had owned the building had most likely been of some repute before they had invaded. The unfortunate fellow. For all their repute, they had failed to survive.
The furniture was rough-hewn but solid: a low table scarred with knife marks. Oyedi touched the solid thing in front of him, ran his fingers along the scars.
Not knives, he corrected. Stones. Sharp stones.
He scraped the table slightly with his fingernails.
Kids, he wondered, discarding the thought as irrelevant. If kids had occupied this house, they were dead and gone.
Oyedi sat back on the chair he occupied, leaned into the backrest. A few stools littered the house, upturned in the chaos of attacks. There was another high-backed chair like the one he was sitting on, but it had lost its backrest. A cup that had once held water sat patiently on the table in front of him and his spear stood straight to his side just within reaching distance.
In front of him, quietly awaiting permission to speak, stood three of his warriors. Two women and a man. The man was small. His shoulders drooped as if he was fickle. Oyedi pitied any who would look upon the man and make the mistake of thinking him fickle.
One of the women was large, almost as large as Oyedi. She had a solemn look on her face, something that leaned towards sadness but was more disappointment in herself than sadness. She seethed with a quiet need for vengeance.
Oyedi knew why she was here.
The third woman was lithe. She had the look you would expect from someone who prided themselves in speed above all else.
“This is him?” Oyedi asked, gesturing at a parchment on the table. The question was directed at no one, thrown out there for any to answer.
The fickle man answered. “Yes, my king.”
“And you were in charge of the sketch, Buntu?” he asked the man.
Buntu nodded. “Yes, my king.”
“And the [Time Walker] is in agreement that this is the face of the man that killed the boy?”
Again, Buntu nodded. “Yes, my king.”
Oyedi stroked his beard as his gaze moved over to the woman standing tall.
“You recognize the face,” he said. It was not a question.
“Yes, my king,” the woman, Telma, said. “I do.”
Oyedi nodded. “You.” He looked at the last member of the party. “I understand the reason for these two. What is your purpose here?”
The woman dropped to her knee where the other two had not. She kept her eyes to the ground when she spoke.
“I bring news from the Gatherers,” she said.
Oyedi fought back the urge to sigh. The Gatherers rarely ever brought good news with it. They had a penchant for only sniffing out the bad. They were the information network of his tribe.
Gatherers that only see bad, he thought in derision.
“And what have the Gatherers gathered for me this time?” he said with a vague yet tired gesture of his hand.
“The Immortal, my king.”
That got Oyedi’s attention. Of course.
He could always trust them to bring bad news. But this was not necessarily bad news. The [Heart of Nosrath] beat heavily in his chest, filling him with blood that granted him greater vitality than almost any of his peers could hope for.
Telma and Buntu remained quiet beside the still kneeling lady. They showed no flicker of emotion at the sound of the Immortal.
Oyedi leaned forward, interested in this piece of information. “Where?”
“To the east,” the lady answered without missing a beat.
“How many days out?”
“Two.”
Oyedi’s lips stretched into a menacing smile. It seemed he would now have a place to direct this pent up frustration and anger he had from losing Ebube. He would not be able to take the man by the neck and kill him by himself, but maybe he could go blood for blood with the Immortal.
The man was a living legend, his reputation gained from his method of combat. Strike him all you wished with skills and weapons and even the power of nature itself, he never stayed down. He bled enough blood to water the seas and broke enough bones to build a skeleton army. Yet he never stayed down.
In their fear of this man, people had forgotten that anything that can bleed can die. That the Immortal was still alive was because no one had found a way to kill him. Oyedi would take up that mantle. He will slay the Immortal.
A thought occurred to him at this moment. With how far and wide the Immortal’s legend had grown, what was the chance that killing him would grant him a title. The interface was often known to be quite generous for such things.
“Two days,” he mused, then returned his attention to the woman. “Are you a messenger or a part of the Gatherers?”
“A proud member of the Gatherers, my king,” she answered.
Oyedi nodded in acknowledgement. “Then return to your group and let them know that today they have brought their king fitting news. Good news. I will reward them for this.”
The woman started, her head perking up in surprise for a moment. Oyedi could understand her confusion. The Immortal’s presence was not good news anywhere.
Maybe he was mad. It didn’t matter.
He gestured for her to leave. “You may return. Inform you leader to send you to me after three days for you reward. Also, inform Chief Mbanu. He is to begin to make preparations for the Immortal’s arrival. He is to report it to me tonight before the moon settles comfortably upon its throne.”
The lady rose to her feet, head still bowed. “Yes, my king.”
She excused herself, leaving with her back to the exit. She did not turn her back on him until she was outside the building and into the afternoon air.
Telma gave Oyedi a curious look. “Good news?”
“What does it matter to you,” Oyedi scoffed. “You will not be here in two days.”
Telma’s look of curiosity returned to a solemn frown. “You know.”
“I do,” he confirmed. “The enchanted bow of an archer is very important to them. Yours is your blood. To have it taken from you is to have your heart taken from you. You must retrieve it, not so?”
She nodded very slowly. Oyedi saw worry in her expression.
He leaned forward. “You did not think that I would grant you leave?”
“If I may speak freely.”
Oyedi paused. Telma was one to always speak freely in his presence. She never asked for permission to do so. Still, he granted it to her.
“Speak freely.”
“You are not known for your kindness and understanding,” she said before the words had left his lips. “You are harsh and strict with a will that pulls all things towards only your goal.”
Buntu shot her an incredulous look. Oyedi laughed.
He picked up the mug on the table and flung it at her head with enough force to crack her skull or shatter the mug.
Telma cocked her head to the side, allowing the cup to sail off and shatter against the stone wall.
“You know,” Oyedi told her. “When people ask to speak freely, they don’t speak rudely.”
Telma met his gaze. “Was I wrong in anything I said, my king?”
Oyedi sighed. “You were not.”
He and Telma had history. It was the reason she had the freedom to talk to him the way she always did. He had always been something of a father to her. No. An older brother. He had been there when she had gained her class. He had taught her how to use the spear as well as the bow. He had taught her how to kill ten men with only her bare hands.
“You want your bow,” he told her. “Go and claim your bow.”
Telma bowed at the waist. “Thank you, my king. But are you certain you will not need me around for the Immortal?”
He waved her worry away. “The Immortal is no worry.”
“Are you certain?”
“I thought you have dropped that habit of constantly questioning me.”
“A man must always be asked twice,” she said, quoting words he had used on her once before, “It makes him doubly accountable for his words.”
“True.” Oyedi sat slightly straighter in his chair as he had taught her once upon a time and met her gaze. “The Immortal is no worry.”
“Then I shall take my leave,” she said, turning to leave.
Oyedi watched her go. He would pray to the gods for her success.
At the exit, she turned and looked back at him. “I am aware of what he did with your… summoned? What would you have me do to him? Do you have a request?”
“Just kill him,” Oyedi answered tiredly. “He has your bow and spared your life. Kill him, if that is your wish.”
Telma nodded. “Consider him dead. I will speak to the Gatherers, then I will take my leave.”
“Pack for the trip child,” Oyedi said before she was gone. “A spear and an extra bow. An enchantment for protection. Proper clothes for the journey. Food. Do not forget to—”
“I have heard you,” she said, cutting him off. “You speak like a father not a king. Spare that love for your children. They are grown and still require it.”
“My sons are men,” Oyedi scoffed. “They need guidance not affection. Now, begone.”
Buntu stared at him in confusion when Telma was gone.
“You won’t get used to it,” Oyedi told him simply. “No one does.”
Telma would take a Gatherer with her in order to track the man. He knew her very well. She would not return until he was dead or she had her bow, maybe both.
She would be missed.
“What else do you have for me besides this?” he asked Buntu.
Buntu shook his head. “Nothing, my king.”
“Then you, too, may take your leave.”
As Buntu left, Oyedi leaned back into the chair, fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the armrest. His sons were in different parts of the world, seeking their own glory. Their return would be in another year.
Perhaps he would treat them as he had treated Ebube when they returned. They were not as special as Ebube, but they were his own flesh and blood. Perhaps it would be beneficial to treat them in such a way.
Until then.
Left alone in his silence, Oyedi focused his mind on more important things. The Immortal. When the time came to fight the man, normal methods would not be enough. He would need to thoroughly arm himself. That included enchantments. He would make time to speak with the [Shaman]s.
He would spot the Immortal from a mile away, so their battle would begin with him raining arrows down on the man. Then, when he was out of arrows or the man was too close, he would switch to the spear.
Just the thought of a battle that required him to think and plan and prepare sent excitement raging through him.
He could not wait for—
His thoughts came to an end as his interface popped up in front of him. He read the words once as he felt the effects of it. He frowned. The frown morphed quickly into a scowl as steam rose slowly from his body as if from a boiling pot.
It seemed even today, the Gatherers had not brought him good news. Today, the world had taken their good news and turned it on its head.
Now suddenly enraged, Oyedi slammed his fist into the table in front of him. Solid wood shattered on impact under the brunt of his strength. Sound erupted outside, footsteps ringing loud as warriors came to his aid.
They met Oyedi heaving with violence and hate in his eyes. He would’ve been frothing at the mouth if he was some rabid animal.
Three warriors rushed into the room and took a knee in front of the ruine table.
“My king,” they said in unison.
Oyedi ignored them, staring at his interface as it mocked him.
[You have lost Heart of Nosrath]
[All benefits have been nullified]
[You have gained residual benefits]
[You have gained +5 to all stats]
Oyedi felt himself grow stronger. It was exhilarating, but it was ultimately unimportant. Five points to all stats would make no difference in a fight against the Immortal.
[You have gained new stat Vitality]
[Vitality]
You have gained a greater quality of life. Death watches you warily. It will not come to you unless you are brought to it.
[Vitality 10]
[Duration: 43800:00:00]
Oyedi stared at the notification in rage. What did it mean by duration? The vitality stat was supposed to be a permanent addition. How long was this?
A growl rumbled in his throat. What did the length matter when the world was doing its best to cheat him out of what was rightfully his.
“HOW DARE IT!” he roared.
Snatching up his spear, he hauled it at the wall. It blazed a bright green as it shattered stone and sent the entire building shaking. The warriors inside did not move.
The resurrection that came with the [Heart of Nosrath] would’ve been a boon. It allowed him to be reckless, knowing that he had a second chance. But now… there was nothing.
Oyedi rubbed his forehead, trying to ebb his rage.
“The [Shaman]s,” he commanded in a voice as calm as he could muster. Judging by how a few men flinched, it was not calm enough. “Get me the [Shaman]. And inform Chief Mbanu that he should prepare some men. Two groups.”
If the [Heart of Nosrath] was acting up and respawning too early, then the [Crystal of Existence] had to be doing the same.
“Where are they to be sent, my king?” One of the warriors asked.
“One to the south,” Oyedi said with venom in his voice. “To the forest of Nosrath.”
His warriors stiffened.
“And the other?” one of them asked.
Oyedi held his hand out, palm open. An explosion rumbled in the distance and the air shook as his spear returned to his grasp before he answered.
“To Trackback.”
If he had the title of [King], he would know exactly how long it would take before the heart and the crystal respawned. Alas, he did not possess the title. And, unlike the king who commanded the Immortal, he did not have the one with the title of king within his possession.
The world continued to mock him to no ends.
…
Aiden was bored.
He notched another arrow, letting it fly. It took a [Doppelganger] that had taken up the shape of an eight feet tall spider with legs so long they probably stretched up to twenty feet if straightened out.
It arrow severed a leg at the joint. It sent the monster stumbling to the side. Valdan took two more of its legs. Jang Su’s blade flashed out, taking the creature’s head.
They’d been on a new path for the past thirty minutes. It stretched out in a straight boring line were monsters simply fell from the roof or crawled out of the ground or even the wall. Oncot had woken up a few minutes before Taeli had led them down the new turn.
He had been in a daze for a moment, face constricted as if he was still feeling some kind of pain. Then he had calmed down and checked himself. Only when he knew his body was functioning properly had he simply turned in the arms of Ted’s summoned gorilla and smashed its head with a doublehanded axe blow.
That he’d achieved the feat in a single strike was impressive.
Right now, the man was busy brutalizing two spider monsters, ruining them with swinging cleaves that severed legs and broke carapaces.
Aiden fought the urge to yawn as he let another arrow fly, piercing a spider in one of its many eyes. It was the thing about the [Doppelganger]s, while they had the ability to turn into spiders with eyes on their butt instead of their heads, they never did. The monster’s fault was that it was doomed to the strengths and limitations of whatever it chose to copy.
Nesa and her twin handled a single spider on their own. Aiden knew that the monsters were not very strong. It seemed the issue the girls were having with it was with its size.
Aiden ignored it for Ted who was busy leaning against the wall while his familiars beat down more than two spiders. He would have to talk to his brother about that at some point in time. Ted couldn’t allow his skills to grow rusty because he was having his familiars fighting for him.
Absently, he notched another arrow and turned. His gaze sharpened, [Weaver of Perception] heightening all his senses, and he fired without having to turn.
A spider squealed off in the distance. He ignored it as the fights continued to erupt around him. Elami stood quietly at his back, seemingly as bored as he was.
Nesa groaned in pain as a spider limb cut a gash along the length of her forearm, forcing her to drop her sword. Elami rolled his eyes and waved his hand casually.
Nesa lit up in a blue glow, mana spilled from her injury like steam as she continued fighting. Aiden had a feeling that Elami didn’t know that he had seen his expression when he healed her.
Definitely bored, he concluded.
“How are you doing that?” Dreg asked, moving next to him as he fired an arrow towards the ceiling, knocking a smaller sized spider off it.
Aiden followed his strike with one of his own that pinned the creature to the ground. It squealed as his massive arrow protruded from its back. Oncot walked up to the creature and stomped on its head, crushing it in one blow.
“I aim and fire,” Aiden said, turning with precision to pin another spider to the wall. It had been sneaking up on Ted who hadn’t been the slightest bit bothered.
He’s getting cocky.
Aiden knew it was deserved. Ted had known that the spider was coming. Still, cockiness had a habit of sneaking up on you when you least expect it to cause damage. Ted had summoned creatures active at all times, granting him an awareness of his surroundings that most people knew nothing about.
“You aim and fire,” Dreg said with a frown.
“Talent is often difficult to explain,” Elami said, stepping casually to the side as white [Doppelganger] blood splashed on the ground where he’d been standing. “It is my experience that asking for an explanation is a waste.”
Talent, huh, Aiden mused.
God knew he had never been talented at any of the combat parts of life. In his past life, it had taken him twice the work as others to become as good as others in the Order. He wasn’t terrible at it, not really, but he was average. He wasn’t last but he wasn’t first.
Now he was being mistaken for talented.
But it wasn’t just his skills that made him this good. His increased perception was also playing a significant role. Not that he was going to say anything on the matter. They thought he had the [Dragon Knight] class and he was happy to let them think that. If they thought he was some exceptional archer—which wasn’t very far-fetched—then why not?
The current wave of monsters came to a slow end, with Oncot dispatching the rest of them with brutal violence. Like most people from Oncot’s enigmatic tribes, their skills tended to lean in the direction of physical prowess. They buffed the wielder, hardened them. Those that weren’t buff related allowed them achieve physical feat that took practice.
For example, one of Oncot’s skill made him bend into something that was similar to squatting, then it sent him spinning. All he had to do was hold out his cleaver and he became a spinning death ball. He didn’t even react to physical attacks when he was in that state. Aiden wondered if the state granted him immunity to physical attacks or just some level of resistance.
Oncot turned away from the last of the monsters to face him.
We move? He signed.
Aiden looked at Taeli. She still held her shortswords stained white in [Doppelganger] blood in both hands. She stood like she was still spoiling for a fight.
“Taeli,” one of the twins asked, walking up to her.
“At this pace, we should get to the next intersection in thirty minutes,” Taeli answered.
Elami stepped forward. “Our pace is slow, and we are not coordinated.”
Dreg shot him a scathing look, doing his best to hide it only at the last second. He was still not happy about bringing a [Healer] who had been more than happy to jump ship without even being coerced.
Aiden couldn’t blame him.
Shaking his head, Dreg gestured forward. “Let’s go,” he said to Taeli. “We’ve got to cover more grounds and we have to be fast about it.”
Aiden did his best to estimate the time as he followed behind them. Elami stayed close to Ted while Oncot moved closer to Aiden. The large man had been frowning since he’d woken up.
You good? Aiden signed to him.
Oncot shook his head, paused, then his frown deepened. Scars make a man, he signed.
Aiden could definitely argue with that. They made a man scary but he couldn’t say that they made a man. He’d seen scars and they more often than not unmade a man.
Should we not have healed you? he signed back.
Oncot grumbled something unintelligible. You should have left the scar. Scar is a sign of growth.
Aiden nodded, not interested in having a long conversation on the matter. He patted the man on his massive shoulder in consolation.
“Next time, big guy,” he said in the common tongue. “Next time.”
They walked down the path in silence, nobody really having much of a conversation except Jang Su and Nesa. Even then, their conversation existed in half-whispered words. Aiden wondered if they were flirting and if Jang Su was going to try to steal her away from her team.
To be young and free, he thought with a fond smile.
“What has you smiling like you stole successfully?” Valdan asked, walking up beside him.
Aiden blinked before looking at him. “Stole something successful?”
That was not an expression that belonged to Valdan. That was more like something that Ted would say.
Shaking his head, he said, “You’ve been spending too much time around Ted.”
“Why are you smiling so happily, Lord Lacheart?”
With a sigh, Aiden nodded to Jang Su and the twins in front of them. “To be young and free. Do you think they’ll go out after this whole thing is over?”
Valdan gave him an odd look.
Aiden shrugged. “What?”
“You have the face of a child and the brain of an old man,” Valdan said simply. “Sometimes I forget.”
“That I have the brain of an old man?”
“No.” Valdan shook his head. “That you are a child.”
“He does not speak like one,” Elami confirmed from behind them.
Rolling his eyes, Aiden turned to Oncot as a thought came to his mind.
“Oncot,” he said, tapping the man.
Oncot looked down at him, the difference in height was that significant. The look in his eyes was all the answer Aiden needed.
How many levels have you gotten since we entered the cave? He signed.
Oncot held up two fingers. Then he signed, Blood man brings proper blood.
Aiden fought the urge to frown. Again, not blood man. I don’t need the blood god taking offence.
His response caused Oncot to pause, then pale a little. The large man nodded after a while in agreement.
Aiden would have to do something about how fast the man was leveling up. Just in case.
Taeli held up her hand, forcing them to stop. Aiden’s memory of the map told him that they were close to the intersection, although he could be slightly wrong.
“What’s wrong?” Dreg asked her in a low voice.
She turned her to the side as if trying to listen for something. Aiden focused as well. With his heightened perception, he should’ve heard something if there was anything to hear.
Everyone remained perfectly still. When Ted suddenly frowned, Aiden saw it. He was sensing something but wasn’t sure what it was.
Aiden’s own frown kicked in, Ted’s becoming contagious.
His eyes widened in realization of what could possibly be happening. He activated one of his skills.
[You have used Class skill Walking Canvas]
Mana erupted from him, filling the space as wide as it could. He did not rein it in, letting it run wild. He did not have to. His question was answered the moment he’d activated the skill.
He felt the presence of the woman a moment too late. She had been right in their midst and nobody had seen her.
Fear grabbed Aiden by the neck as he realized he was too late. He grabbed the woman’s hand, moving almost immediately. The action shattered whatever she had used to conceal herself, but it was all for naught.
Valdan roared in pain as the blade of her knife slipped into his side.
Dreg roared and his voice split the air.
“PLUNDERERS!”
Comments
IdolTrust
The king would live for 120 more years.
nobody
Thank you for the chapter feels like few people are gonna die 🙂
Kai
Oh theyre screwed. He’s gunna lose it if V gets seriously hurt
