James A. Hunter
patreon
Vigil's Balance: Eight – Court Courtesy
🕑 Added 2022-12-07 13:47:32 +0000 UTCEDIT: Sorry everyone! No idea how that happened. Must have switched the publication dates around!
Against my better instincts, I dropped Darksilver off at the stables, before heading into the palace proper, which was nestled within the base of the Eldritch tree that dominated the center of Mythis Syve. My horse wasn’t any happier about it than I was—evident by the fact that he broke the first attendant’s femur, almost killed the second handler by sinking his teeth into the elf’s throat, then snapped the hitching post they’d fruitlessly attempted to tie him to. It took a pair of cat-bodied centaurs to eventually wrestle Darksilver to the stable.
No one tried to actively hurt Darksilver—that would’ve been like striking me, since he was my property—not that they would’ve been able to hurt him had they tried. I was pretty sure he was a demon in a horse body. Instead, they cast nasty glares my way as though it were my fault for having such a disagreeable, asshole of a stallion.
I just watched them struggle in absolute amusement.
“Look on in terror,” Renholm had announced as they wrestled Darksilver away, “even my Champion’s steed is too great a threat for the ‘might’ of the Chaos Court. Disgraceful.” He sounded positively gleeful at their ineptitude.
From the stables, we were politely ushered into the grand hall. The floors were petrified wood, polished to a mirror sheen. Huge, braided columns of living wood reached up, up, up, supporting a vaulted cathedral with a mural made from hundreds of thousands of polished gemstones. Glittering diamonds and bloodshot rubies. Sunflower amethysts and deep ocean sapphires. Picked out in meticulous detail was the cruel face of a woman in profile.
That had to be Queen Ionia and I was guessing those weren’t knockoff gems. Having that much wealth, causally displayed in a ballroom was a good way to effectively showcase that you had Fuck-You money just lying around.
Against the far wall were a set of marble stairs that rose to a platform overlooking the rest of the grand hall. A throne sat at the pinnacle of the platform. Even at a distance I could see it was made from skulls, all held together by twisting vines and a blanket of vibrant wildflowers.
Behind the throne was another mural, this one carved into the interior wood of the gargantuan tree itself. Knowing the little history that I did, it wasn’t hard to figure out what the mural depicted. In one panel, monstrous demons battled against an army of armor-clad warriors. One of those warriors loomed larger than the rest—its five faces were familiar. In the next panel, the demonic titans found themselves banished to a bleak and desolate landscape with twisting spires and dying galaxies. In the last panel, a falling star smashed into the ground, only for a curling root to emerge from the center of a smoking crater.
It was the story of Telvyss the Void Tree. This monstrous creature had somehow managed to return to this world after the primordial battle that had taken place eons ago.
The air inside the tree practically oozed Essence, but it was greasy, oily, noxious. The power was… wrong. It turned my stomach and made me want to go take a bath in a vat of hand sanitizer. Golden runes twinkled in the air before me, resolving into a message.
And not just any random message. A bounty.
<<<>>>
Bounty
Purge the Darkness: You have encountered the presence of a great and vile evil—a foul and festering blight that is at utter conflict with the Celestial powers you serve. It is your duty as one of the Vigilant of Raguel to take up arms against the Chaos Titans and purge the realm of their vile existence. Although Telvyss the Void Tree is the weakest of the Chaos Titans, the damage it can do is unfathomable should it awaken. Take whatever actions necessary to issue righteous judgement and rain down annihilation on Telvyss, rooting out its evil from this core world.
Reward: +100,000 Essence, [TBD]
<<<>>>
My stomach dropped as I read over the mother of all bounties. Well fuck me sideways. Raguel wanted me to wipe out Telvyss, root and branch? That was one helluva big ask. This wasn’t a disgruntled Hexblight killing a few miners or even a band of corrupt Vigils making some seriously shady choices. The Chaos Titans were gods. Lower g gods, sure, and this one happened to be hibernating, but it was still a cosmic horror of unimaginable power and I was a fish out of water who was just starting to figure out this whole monster hunter thing.
On top of that, Telvyss had an entire nation of reverent devotees who would no doubt be willing to fight and die in service to the tree and the power it offered. In my corner, I had the world’s shittiest spirit guide, an evolved pixie with delusions of grandeur, a dumpy priest with a drinking problem, an angry horse, and a run-of-the-mill house cat. Suffice it to say, the deck was heavily stacked against us. How the hell was I supposed to destroy a Chaos Titan?
I didn’t even know where to start. No, that wasn’t true. The first thing I needed to do was survive this party. If I could buy some time and get back to the Material Realm, I could debrief with Arturo and formulate a plan, however half-assed it might be.
I waved away the words and focused on not dying.
The throne itself stood empty, but that meant nothing. The Queen was probably out, meeting and greeting her guests—schmoozing like any good hostess would. Especially since the party appeared to be in full swing. The hall was already filled with what I assumed were the nobles of the other Fae Courts. We were the last to arrive.
There was a wide mix of inhuman creatures chatting in small circles or twirling across the floor in time to the orchestral music, provided by an ensemble of violent skinned elves on a raised platform. I caught sight of big cat centaurs decked out in heavy armor. More arachnoid people with their weird, buggy black eyes. A group with skin made of tree bark and gnarled branches growing right out of their skulls. Crimson devils with curling horns and pale humanoid creatures who looked like they’d just stepped out of a Hellraiser flick.
Most of the partygoers ignored our presence completely—as though even acknowledging us might be seen as a slight against Queen Ionia—while the rest kept openly eyefucking us like Drill Instructors seeing fresh recruits for the first time. There was a hungry, predatory gleam in those looks. And thanks to Master Mentalist, it wasn’t hard to read their body language even halfway across the dance floor: how could they murder us and win Ionia’s favor without breaking the rules of courtesy?
We were swimming with the sharks.
But I was a shark too, and I intended to make sure all these assholes knew it. I absently patted the canvas sack hanging from my belt. A little gift for Ionia.
Hulking, faceless mushroom men circulated through the room, each bearing silver trays heavy with drinks and heavenly smelling horderves. One of the fungaloids shuffled over to me, extending a platter with something that looked like seared lamb chops, slathered in a fragrant, purple berry sauce. It was the kind of chow they served at the upscale Airforce Bases. I found myself reaching toward the platter.
“I wouldn’t.” The words came from behind me. The voice was female and haunting melodic.
I turned to find the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen standing beside me with an easy, lopsided grin on her elfin face. Her skin was flawless and as pale as porcelain. Short, metallic silver hair framed in a slim face with fine features, high cheekbones, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Small antlers protruded from either side of her head. She was athletic, had an impossibly slim waistline, and wore a silver silk gown that showed off ample cleavage. A rugged fur shawl hugged her shoulders.
Her beauty was intoxicating. It was also unnatural. Literally. I could feel the gentle pull of a subtle glamor working on my senses, desperately trying to bewitch me. This was a woman who knew damned well that she was smoking hot and also knew how to wield that power like a weapon.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, instinctively taking a step away from her. “And why’s that? Is this one of those don’t-accept gifts from the Fae or they get to keep your soul sort of things?”
She arched an eyebrow and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Paranoid are we? I would think one of the Vigilant would know better than to believe every nasty rumor you hear about the Fae. Admittedly, that one is true, but it doesn’t apply to you. You’re a Fae noble and an invited guest. To not provide you with basic sustenance would be a grave insult to the honor of the court. And, for what it’s worth, the Queen is definitely going to offer you a gift and you would be a fool to reject her.”
“So why stay away from the food?” I asked, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.
She pointed at the purple glaze drizzled across the chops.
“Moon Berry Sauce. Harvested from the high plains of Valdarash, and guarded by the merciless Voren, it’s an absolutely delicacy if you’re a Fae. It’ll let you taste color and swim through the stars. But if you’re anything other than full-blooded Fae, you’ll be projectile vomiting into the punchbowl in less than fifteen minutes.” She grimaced and leaned in close, as if confiding a great secret. “I’m half-human and learned that the hard way during my first royal function. Just trying to save you from suffering a very painful and hugely humiliating social faux pas.”
I grunted and nodded. “Thanks for the tip. That’s awfully generous of you,” I replied, pulling my hand away from the platter. “So which pillar is this? You trying to use your knowledge to sucker me into trusting you or is this some sort of guile thing that’ll come back to bite me in the ass later?”
Her smile widened, her teeth unnatural straight and white. “Someone’s been talking with Gobhoill, I see. His outlook on the world is deeply depressing, but at least he’s not as malicious as most of the other nobles and functionaries that attend these sorts of things.” She faltered for a beat, examining me more carefully. “I must say, you’re not at all what I was expecting. But you must be doing something right if she’s worried enough to send Gobhoill along on a simple escort mission. I knew there must be a reason why my father allied himself to your cause.”
That caught me completely off guard. “Come again?”
She extended a hand. “Melwyn, Princess of Petals. And to answer your question, I’m helping you because Queen Ionia hates you, and anyone she hates this much has to be worth helping.”
Of course. Renholm had spent no small amount of effort working to build alliances with the other noble houses in our asinine war against the Oblivion Court. For the most part, we’d assembled outcasts and the fae riffraff that lived on the outer edges of society. There was one notable exception. The Court of Petals. Arguably the weakest of the noble houses, but they were the one court that had gladly thrown in with us.
I accepted her hand and gave it a firm pump. “Good to meet you, Melwyn. Name’s Boyd and as long as you don’t try to backstab me or otherwise use me to as a pawn, we should get along just fine.”
She cocked her head quizzically and shot me a strange look in response. “That’s very straight forward of you,” she said. “How very unlike the fae. Though, generally among the courts, it's considered a courtesy to kiss the hand of a lady.”
I dropped her hand. “Yeah, it works that way where I’m from too. But I don’t want to give you any false hope,” I said. “I’m out of your league so I just want to set the ground rules up front. This is going to be a strictly working relationship.”
I thought her jaw might hit the floor. My gut told me she was used to having men fall all over themselves to kiss her hand and profess their undying love the second they saw her. To write epic ballads and declare a holy war on her behalf. But if we were going to be working together in any capacity, then I wanted to nip that shit in the butt before it gained traction. She was hot, no doubt about that, but she also looked crazy and it paid not to get too involved with crazy.
“May I have your attention,” a voice boomed from the dais that held the throne. Gobhoill was standing at the foot of the stairs, his hairy arms folded in front of him. The music cut off and a deep silence fell over the crowd. “Now that our esteemed guests of honor have finally arrived, it is time to begin the assembly in earnest. All kneel for the arrival her Majesty, Ionia the Supreme Queen of Dark Tidings, Mother of Oblivion, Child of Chaos, and Archfae of Telvyss, the Void Tree of the Endless Night.”
In a wave, every person in attendance quickly genuflected, taking a knee with their heads bowed. Even Melwyn, Princess of Petals, dropped down, her eyes transfixed on the floor.
Yeah, I wasn’t going to kneel to anyone.
Especially not some psycho fairy who was trying to kill me. I was glad to see that Renholm took to the air in sheer defiance, while Cal stayed as upright as a flag pole. My spirit guide had gotten his hands on a tray full of horderves and was nosily shoveling food into his face hole. Anger flashed in Gobhoill’s muddy eyes at our insolence, but it vanished almost as quickly as it had come. A darkness descended on the pedestal. Shadow bled from the air and condensed into a writhing inky mass with black tendrils that clawed at the air.
It was an eldritch horror that sent goosebumps of unease spiriting along my arms and legs.
The ball of shadow cracked down the middle like an oversized egg and a woman stepped through the darkness and onto the pedestal. Her skin was as black as freshly turned graveyard dirt and neon runes of power were carved into her otherwise flawless flesh. Her eyes burned fallout green and huge curling tree branches rose from her head. She wore a gown that gave a glimpse into the endless void beyond. She was as beautiful in her own way as Melwyn, but hers was the beauty of a volcano. Of an imploding star or a burning Humvee.
It was the cold, distant grace of destruction and death and bloodshed.
An immense, crushing force descended on the ballroom as she took center stage. That pressure bared down on me like a giant hand and my legs trembled from the sudden weight. It was the sheer force of Ionia’s will. She was pissed that I’d refused to kneel and now she was demonstrating her displeasure in a not-so-subtle way. Well fuck her. I grit my teeth, locked eyes with the woman, and fought to keep my legs from buckling under the strain. This was a war of wills and though I could already tell she was far more powerful, I was stubborn as an ornery mule.
Marines didn’t know when to quit, even when they were outclassed and outgunned. We fought off the Germans at the Battle of Belleau Wood with nothing but shovels, earning the nickname Teufel Hunden—Devil Dogs—in the process. The Marines stormed the beach at Iwo Jima, overrunning the island even while taking massive causalities. They held off over a hundred thousand enemy soldiers at Chosin Reservoir, despite being surrounded on every side.
Giving up wasn’t even on the table.
The tension in the air held for what felt like an eternity, then it snapped and dissipated.
“Please, rise,” Ionia said from her podium, sounding a tad bit miffed. “This is a party after all.” She laughed. There was no joy in the sound. It was like broken glass crunching under foot. “It has been many, many long years since our noble houses have gathered together beneath the same roof, and even longer years since we called for a Hunt. Truly a wonderous event, and we have none other than ‘King’ Renholm”—somehow, she managed to make the word King sound like the foulest curse on the planet—“to thank. And, of course, his unconventional champion, Duke Boyd Knight, Vigil of Justice and Servant to our sworn enemy.”
While she spoke, her eyes never left me. They burned with anger and hate. With murder. This lady was trouble with a capital T and I needed to watch my back, because she was definitely going to try to shive me in the kidney the second I let my guard down.
“In honor of the momentous occasion, I thought it appropriate to offer a gift to our honored guests for giving us a reason to gather once more. King Renholm, Champion Boyd, please approach the dais and receive a humble offering, given from the goodness of my heart.”
Melwyn nudged me in the ribs with an elbow. “Now is not the time to be bold,” she hissed under her breath. “Like I said before, refusing a gift from a sovereign is gravely discourteous. Accept it and play nice.”
I grunted, nodded, then padded forward toward the throne. The crowd parted for me, creating an unobstructed path right to the foot of the staircase. Renholm beat me there, riding on the back of Jacob Francis. The stable hands had taken the cat along with Darksilver, but the feline had very different ideas about where he belonged—and it damn well wasn’t in a stable.
“Your gift,” the Queen said with a malicious grin. She reached a hand into a pool of nearby shadow and pulled something out. She tossed it onto the floor without an ounce of ceremony. The “gift” rolled down the stairs with a series of wet thumps, before coming to a stop at my feet. The glassy eyes of a very dead Elduin stared up at me. A puddle of gore pooled beneath jagged stump of his neck. “My dearest servant and advisor Gobhoill informed me that you encountered a bit of misfortune on the way here—and that Elduin did nothing to aid you.”
She pursed her lips and tsked disapprovingly.
“I feel truly awful,” she said. “To think, you could’ve been injured or killed while so very close to my Kingdom. What a terrible shame that would’ve been, no? Elduin was an expert Navigator, one of the best in the Wylds, but such cowardice and incompetence is simply not tolerated in my court. Failure is met with swift and painful justice, which I thought was a befitting tribute to you, a Vigil of Justice.”
Though she was speaking to us, it was clear the message carried a double message. Elduin hadn’t been punished and killed for cowardice—he’d been murdered for failure. The bloody head staring up at me was a warning to all of the other members of her court: it didn’t matter how valuable they were, if they failed her, they would be punished. Harshly.
“We most graciously accept your gift,” I said, picking up the head by the bloody strands of hair. It was gross as fuck, but I didn’t let that show on my face. “Elduin’s impotence was a terrible reflection on you and your court, so I’m glad you fixed the issue. As for this—we’ll put it to good use.” I turned toward Renholm. “My liege?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” the Pookah said, taking to wing. “The food here at your party is a joke. Finally, something good to eat.” The elf’s head was almost as big as Renholm was, but it didn’t matter. Renholm lurched forward, his jaw unhinging like a python. His adorable, fennec fox face stretched and distorted, revealing a horrifying maw that was far too large for his tiny stature. The whole head slipped down his gullet and disappeared into his belly. A meal that size should’ve inflated him like a balloon, but no. It was just gone by some trick of spatial magic I didn’t fully understand.
“Delicious,” he said, stifling a burp with one tiny fist.
“We actually happened to get you something, too,” I said while Renholm licked his lips free from congealed blood. “Though I really have egg on my face, since we got you the same thing.” I reached behind my back and pulled out a canvas sack that had been hanging from my belt—concealed by my cloak. I yanked out what was inside and lobbed it underhand toward her. The rocky head of a Lesser Crystalline Elemental landed on top of her dais. “I figured you could pass it around to your guards so they would know what to do next time a monster attacks one of your honored guests.”
A shocked murmur spread through the assembled onlooker like wildfire while the Queen cooly regard the head at her feet.
Our gift also had a double meaning that I thought was pretty damned clear.
