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Throne Hunters Book Four, Chapter 31
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 13:49:49 +0000 UTCThe door was yanked open to reveal Yseult Khan in all her armored glory. As much as Harald had been steeling himself to see her, the sight of her peerless armor and brutal presence still caused his breath to lock up in his chest.
Her plates of golden armor were worn over a bodysuit of midnight blue, while a cape of the purest cerulean flowed from her shoulders. But as always it was the alien nature of her helm that caught the eye, its blank faceplate pocked with diamond shaped holes, spikes edging the top, with a single central horn bursting out of the brow like that of a unicorn. Elegant, ferociously powerful, inhuman, she filled the doorway with haughty disdain.
“Harald. I’m afraid your plans have changed.”
Harald fought to breathe easy. “Hello, Yseult. I didn’t know you were a patron of the Platinum Rose.”
She entered the room. Others in House Celestara colors filled the hall behind her. “I’ve come for the Twilight Crown. You can either hand it to me of your own free will, or I’ll collect it from your corpse.”
“That’s…” Harald fought to find something quippy to say. Why was his mouth so dry? “That’s rude.”
Yseult extended her hand. “Now.”
He raised both hands in mock surrender. “I’ve got good news for you, and bad. Which do you want first?”
“The Crown’s being held off-site? Smart. But you’ll be taking me to it even if I have to tear your limbs off to convince you.”
“So the good news? The Crown should already be at the Celestara estate.”
That gave her pause, but Yseult was nothing if not quick, and her tone grew leaden with the realization. “You’re a decoy.”
“The bad news is that I’m a decoy.”
Harald could sense Yseult’s piercing stare through the holes in her casque, and met it as fearlessly as his Ego 23 allowed. He’d seen too much, however, to delude himself into thinking he had any chance of resisting her if she chose to end his life there and then.
For a moment his life swung in the balance, and then she spun, cloak flaring, to exit the room. “Garravin. Sabina. Make sure Harald doesn’t go anywhere. He’s only Level 4, but be careful regardless. The rest of you, with me.”
And the majority of the group fled down the hall in pursuit of Yseult Khan, their storm of footsteps rapidly receding and then going quiet.
Leaving two individuals to step into the room.
The first was a grim older man, his gray hair flowing down past his shoulders, his chinstrap beard reaching his sternum, though his upper lip were shaved. An old scar ran raggedly over his right brow and continued down his cheek. Broad shouldered and steady, he wore heavy robes of blue accented with gold, and used a tall glaive as a walking staff.
Behind him entered a completely different animal, a young woman in a broad-rimmed hat, her heart-shaped face provocatively beautiful, the eyepatch over her left eye emblazoned with a golden star. A cheroot hung from her full lips, a stream of smoke the color of the first man’s hair rising into the air, twin sword hilts rising into view from behind her shoulders. Slender, athletic, she wore a similar bodysuit of deepest blue that rose up her neck to her jaw, her black hair spilling down over her gold-lined cloak.
Garravin settled into a comfortable stance to one side of the door, bearded chin lowering to his chest, the butt of his polearm resting lightly on the marble floor. Sabina, however, entered the room with feline grace, picking a path around Harald as she looked him up and down, the corner of her lips pulling into a smirk.
Harald’s thoughts raced. He’d never seen nor heard of these two. They hadn’t been on the Top 10 list of Gold-ranked raiders, but that didn’t mean they were push-overs. But Yseult had thought him Level 4, which meant she wouldn’t have wasted precious resources by leaving real heavy hitters behind to guard him, right?
“You know,” said Sabina, walking back around into view. “From everything I’ve heard, I’d thought you’d be bigger.”
“That’s funny,” replied Harald. “I haven’t heard of you at all.”
“Your loss, obviously.” She took up her position beside Garravin. Her iris, he realized, was a disc of faintly burning gold. “Who’d you send with the Crown to the manor?”
“Leave him alone,” chided Garravin, rubbing at the nape of his neck in irritation.
“We’re stuck babysitting him. Don’t see why we can’t get some information.” She inhaled from her cheroot then blew out another stream of smoke. It smelled faintly of Kársek’s herbs. “So? Must have been a regular army.”
He had his Goldchops, Chyron’s Scourge, and Death’s Proxy. His twin Shadow Knights from the 28th Level and Shadowpaw.
What did they have? Could he trick them into revealing their goods?
“You know, I’d tell you, but I’ve learned not to waste my time on hired goons.”
“That what you think we are?” Sabine’s smile would have had Vic’s pants around his ankles. “Oh, you poor boy. You clearly don’t appreciate whom you’re dealing with.”
“He’s goading you,” said Garravin quietly.
“I know you’re the one left behind to make sure the Level 4 Copper-ranked raider didn’t soil the carpet,” smiled Harald. “I know you’re not important enough to be taken back to save Lady Melisende. I know you’re desperately trying to come across as more dangerous than you are, with that stupid hat, that stupid golden star on your eyepatch, and that stinking cheroot.”
Sabine stopped and really stared at him with her sole golden eye. “Garravin, he’s starting to really piss me off.”
“That’s his goal,” said Garravin, itching at his neck. “Step outside if you have to, but get yourself under control.”
“Heel, doggy,” grinned Harald, taking a step toward her. “Go on. Sit. If you roll over, I’ll give you a treat.”
“Oh, this is too good.” Sabine laughed. “A Copper-ranked idiot who likes to run his mouth. Garravin, remind me if I’m wrong, but Yseult didn’t say anything about breaking a bone or two, did she?”
Garravin pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yap yap yap,” said Harald. “Like a pet doggie barking out the carriage window at the nasty strangers. I could take a Level 5 like you any day of the week.”
Sabine spat her cheroot out, twin trails of smoke exhaling from her nostrils. “We’re Level 6, bitch.” She paused, suddenly uncertain. “Wait. Why you smiling like that?”
“Only Level 6?” Harald cracked his neck. “Then let’s get this party started.”
“You really want to do this?” Sabine’s smile grew unhinged. “Good. There’s nothing I like better than putting upstart boys in their place.”
“Sure. One question first: who’s going to pay the bar tab?”
In that precise second as Sabine and Garravin both stared at him in confusion, Harald went all out.
The Chyron’s Scourge appeared in his fist, slab-like, Epic-rated, huge and improbable, its depths glimmering with emerald ripples. The trio of Goldchops manifested in the air above him, already streaking forward to hurl themselves at his foes. Shadowpaw manifested by his side, head thrown back to bay and fill the small room with the reverberations of doom, as both Shadow Knights appeared on either sides of Garravin, massively armored, one helmed in the visage of a hound, both already swinging their stupendous axes.
Harald tapped his three Thrones, channeled their sweet, everlasting power, and detonated a Tenebral Surge.
Black smoke blasted out from him in every direction, rife with the fell energies of the void, smashing almost immediately into the confines of the rooms and shattering mirrors, sending artworks flying, toppling pedestals, and filling the air with a cacophonous boom.
Sabine was lifted by the blast and hurled back against the wall, though Garravin kept his feet, swaying back with improbable tenacity.
Everything happened very, very fast.
Sabine hit the wall, but instead of bouncing off it she stuck, pivoted into a crouch as if the wall had become her floor, and with blood running from both nostrils took off at a sprint along the shattered mirrors. Garravin let out a shout of startling ferocity, a bark whose fury caused both Shadow Knights to hesitate just long enough for the raider to swing his suddenly burning glaive about in a vicious circle, driving them both back.
Abyssal Grasp manifested around Garravin, shadow tentacles sweeping around his legs as Harald dropped Thronebound Mantle, drowning the room in his fell authority. Umbral Aegis cloaked him in living shadow, and Aching Void came right after, dropping the temperature, but then Sabine was behind him, having teleported or skitter-stepped—
No pain, but Harald staggered forward, Sabine’s attack having passed clean through his armor, and then a second later a second blow caused his back to arch like an aftershock of the first.
Shadowpaw lunged over him at Sabine, who flashed bright as lightning and was gone.
The trio of Goldchops flew at Garravin but a vertical beam of white flames erupted from the ground before him, engulfing the hatchets and sending them flying every which way.
Harald grinned as he spun the Scourge, seeking out Sabine.
Now this was a fight.
There. Running along the backwall, her very image shimmering and leeching behind her, as if she were an imprecise haze. She swiped her blade at him as she went, and a flash of white fire came slashing through the air.
Harald dove under it, hand going into his scale pouch to start absorbing Golden Dawns, and came up clumsily to unleash a Demonic Edge of his own.
The black flames flew through the air, aimed just ahead of her, and forced the raider to cry out in panic and relinquish her wall-running power so that she simply dropped and crashed sidelong onto a setee, bouncing off the stiff cushions to get legs-over-head onto the floor as the Edge gauged a massive chasm into the wallpaper.
Power began to flow into Harald from Garravin, the Abyssal Grasp stealing directly from the man’s Thrones, and to Harald’s immense relief he sensed only two roaring within the man’s Cosmos.
Two he could handle.
The knights flowed toward the old man in their mist form, repositioning themselves, keeping him busy.
Harald leaped to his feet. Shadowpaw was harrying Sabine, whose twin short swords were singing at a high frequency, her black hair flowing around her as she spun and parried both claws simultaneously. Again a flash of bright light and Shadowpaw howled, crashed to the ground, but before she could stab him through the chest Harald lunged and swept the Scourge in a decapitating strike.
Sabine bent backwards from the hip, upper body going level to the ground so that the Scourge passed inches above her nose, then pivoted on one heel to drop into a crouch and try to take Harald out at the knee.
Harald went to take the blow with Umbral Aegis, then recalled how her last attack had cut straight through. Instead he unleashed a second Tenebral Surge, the power of which lifted Sabine right off the ground and slammed her into the wall. Harald stepped in after and swung the Scourge down in a world-ending vertical slash but she disappeared mid-air to appear, disoriented but perfectly placed right behind him again.
Only to spin out awkwardly, a Goldchop planted in her back. Harald twisted, elbowed her in the face with all of his Strength 20 might, and her head snapped back, feet going out from under her just as Shadowpaw leaped right into her, snatching her out of the air, maw closing about her hip.
Harald went to follow, intent on finishing her off, but a burning slash caught him straight in the chest, cracking his Aegis chest plate and slamming him back into the wall. An attack from Garravin? Harald caught a brief after-image in his mind’s eye of the glaive retracting, its head glowing molten white as if drawn from a forge, and then he bounced off the wall, lathes crunching.
Sabine was screaming, not in pain, but fury, and Harald felt Shadowpaw disappear back into his Cosmos. Wiping blood from his eyes he saw her pick herself up off the ground, hip mangled, golden iris blazing, one arm crunched into uselessness by Shadowpaw. She raised her singing glass blade even as bright golden light flared out from behind her eyepatch. Her mangled arm straightened, gashes healing instantly, she took a deep breath, and then she leaped and ran along the wall toward him once more.
Harald directed his Goldchops to focus on Garravin even as he laughed and moved back, almost tripping on a shattered side table, and when she flashed and disappeared he was ready, spinning and dropping low so that the Scourge slammed into her stomach and blasted out a mass of purple crystals from her innards.
Sabine’s sole eye widened as she staggered back, hand dropping to her ruined, warped gut, her intestines revealed in inorganic glistening wonder, and then looked back up at him.
“Got you,” she said, and exploded.
Harald barely had time to raise the Scourge before his face, to cower behind its massive blade before a mass of silver fragments blew out from Sabine. A hundred warped chunks of metal exploded outward in all direction, slamming the Scourge back into Harald’s faceplate and shredding the remnants of his Aegis.
Harald tripped on something and landed on his ass. Dazed, he shook his head, felt the power still flowing into him from Garravin’s Thrones, and used them to reform his Aegis even as his blessed lack of pain kept him from seizing up.
Sabine swung her blade. A flash of white fire flew toward Harald. He barely had the wits to fall onto his back amidst the broken shards and chunks of wood, then rolled over and levered himself to standing. He willed the Goldchops to leave Garravin to the remaining Shadow Knight, and all three whipped across the room toward Sabine who screamed in rage and parried one of them out the air before taking the second to the face.
Her head rocked back, her skull exploding, and long black hair and brains spattered across the wall as she dropped.
Gasping, Harald rose in time to see Garravin swing his burning glaive about and behead the giant knight, sending the helm flying.
But he’d been drained almost to the point of exhaustion. Abyssal Grasp had been leeching him of power the entire time, and the black tentacles holding him in place.
“You’re dead,” said Harald, raising the Scourge and making his way toward him.
Heaving for breath, the old man turned to him, wild eyed. For a second it seemed he was overcome by Thronebound Mantle, but then he pointed his glaive at the floor beneath Harald’s feet, about to unleash an attack, only for a Goldchop to careen toward him and force him to sway aside.
Harald burst forward and hacked the Scourge through Garravin’s neck, sending his head flying and leaving a trail of geometric crystals in a great wash from the stump, blood trapped beneath the purple mass.
The power from his Abyssal Grasp cut off as Garravin toppled over, and then all was still.
Almost. A mirror abruptly swung from one corner, pulled free from the wall, and crashed down onto a side table.
“Fuck,” hissed Harald, hand dropping into his scale pouch again. He’d absorbed dozens of them, and still he felt all wrong, some parts loose, others mangled.
But the Fallen Angel’s power flowed into him and his wounds knit, his flesh mended, and soon he was able to stand tall.
For a moment it was all he could do to stare around the wreckage of the room. The walls were bowed out, having almost collapsed into the neighboring chambers. The small chandelier was swinging wildly. Everything was torn, broken, busted, exploded.
Harald tugged his robes into place as he dismissed Aegis. The sound of metallic stars rang out against the void filled his mind:
The Demon Seed Has Stirred
Your Dexterity has risen from 13 to 14
Your Strength has risen from 14 to 15
“Hell yeah they have,” he muttered, and moved over to Sabine’s corpse. There was no time to gloat, but he couldn’t overlook her Artifacts. Dismissing the Scourge but keeping the Goldchops on overwatch by the door, he took up one of her glass blades.
Artifact Acquired: Shiverglass Sabers
Quality: RareSpecial Ability: Discordant Cut
Activation: When parried, causes the enemy’s weapon to vibrate with ever greater strength and filling their mind with dissonant screeching.
+2 to Dexterity
+2 to Constitution
Limitation: Vibrational effect is cumulative but limited by enemy’s Strength; mental dissonance effect is cumulative but limited by enemy’s Ego. Sabers cannot pierce armor wrought from dreams or ghosts.
The other Artifact had to be behind her eyepatch. Rising, Harald found her head where it had rolled against the wall, and with a grimace flipped the eyepatch up. Within her socket was a small golden sphere.
Artifact Acquired: Solace of Aurelum
Quality: MasterworkSpecial Ability: Dawn’s Embrace
Activation: Once per day, when the Solace’s bearer stands upon the threshold of death, the Solace will flare with golden light and fully restore the bearer’s health.
+4 to Constitution
Limitation: The Solace does not activate at the bearer’s command, choosing instead its own moment to restore its bearer. After use, it dims completely until the next dawn.
“Now that’s a useful trinket,” whispered Harald, bouncing the small golden globe in his palm before dropping it into his scale pouch. He then moved quickly over to Garravin’s corpse and took up the glaive.
Artifact Acquired: Runebarbed Glaive
Quality: RareSpecial Ability: Ghost Anchor
Activation: Can pin spectral foes in place or prevent phase transitions with a strike, preventing all forms of interstitial travel.
+2 to Strength
+2 to Ego
No limitation, Harald noted, and then fought the macabre urge to smile. He’d clearly grown spoiled by casually dealing with Epic-ranked Artifacts like the Scourge, the Twilight Crown, or Seraphina’s Eclipse Edge blades. Artifacts like the Runebarbed Glaive didn’t impress him at all.
What else did the old man have?
Feeling callous but purposeful, Harald searched the corpse, and uncovered a small book that hung about the man’s neck under his shirt from a silver chain.
Artifact Acquired: Celestara Codex
Quality: RareSpecial Ability: Tactical Overlay
Activation: Informs its bearer as to their foes most likely attacks, and allows its bearer to pre-plan three moves in response. For each move that unfolds as expected, every Stat gains a cumulative +1 .
+2 to Ego
Limitation: If even one move fails, the bonuses are voided.
“Huh,” said Harald, examining the small codex in wonder. Its cover bore the insignia of House Celestara, and it felt at once sturdy yet very old. “A form of precognition…? Fantastic.” It was just a sight too large to fit into his pouch, so he slung it around his neck and rose to his feet.
Only for a wave of exhaustion to wash over him.
Realizing his mistake, he took both dead raiders’ scale pouches, and absorbed their Silver Dawns until he felt himself grow stable once more. But still. He’d taken and healed several near-mortal wounds in close succession. He’d need to rest for a spell before he could push himself again, even with scale healing.
Good thing he had a carriage ride ahead of him.
Urging the Goldchops to take the lead, Harald emerged from the ruined room and strode out into the hallway. A handful of auction house servants were clustered at the archway that led out into the main hall, and at the sight of him they fled with cries of alarm.
No matter.
He didn’t feel any particular animosity toward them or Master Ling. They’d been tools in his own plan, after all.
If anything, he’d deal with their treachery later.
For now, he had to succor his friends.
Picturing Yseult Khan’s patrician visage, Harald broke into a run.
Comments
Ryan Williams
Harald is absolutely terrifying 😭
Matt Spratte
Great chapter! Lmao i was grinning wickedly as soon as harry boy said he could take a level five. Quick thinking on his part!
