[ Blood of the Undying - 100+ Sage ]
[ Undying Activated ]
The sound of the morning bell rang out.
“ARGG!” Francis shouted, jerking himself upward and grabbing his neck.
“It is earlier than usual,” Michael groaned. “But do you really have to be that loud?”
Taking a deep breath, Francis continued to touch his neck and feel where the King had been holding him.
“That good a dream? Some farm girl–”
“Get up,” Francis said, cutting off his brother. “We don’t want to be late, and I don’t want to get in trouble.”
Snorting, Michael stared at him through the darkness of the room before nodding.
“Maybe getting your arse beat the other day was a good thing.”
Ignoring his brother, Francis started getting ready, his mind trying to figure out how he would handle this newest problem.
***
It had taken some effort, ensuring everything he had done the previous time was as close as possible, not wanting to screw something up and find himself dead before he figured out this next part. Like the previous time, Francis stood in the tent with the king and all the royalty.
It looked like each person from the last time was present.
They still all wore the same predatory smile, gazing at him as if he were some kind of toy to play with.
The king’s announcer stopped and gave a slight bow.
“My King and my Queen! May I present to you Sage Francis Lancaster!”
As expected, gasps and whispers came from the nobles who were spread around the carpeted area, yet he kept his eyes trained on the King, avoiding a hand that barely brushed his back.
Each step that he took was measured. Francis still felt the weight of Baxter’s gaze, regardless that he knew what was to come.
He took a breath, knowing what was about to come as he stopped at the invisible line.
[ Mental Resist Check Successful ]
And no gain…
“Sage Francis, welcome to my tent. Forgive me for not realizing we had one of your rank in our camp. As you can imagine, none of us would have believed a ninth son possessed your power.”
“No apology needed, my King,” Francis replied with a bow. “I simply wanted to do what I could to help win this war, and I know that what I have dreamed will come to pass. While I can’t see everything that lies beyond a point, there are several things I am aware of that will occur.
No smile came, and Baxter leaned forward, jaw tightened.
“I had expected better news from the report I had been given. Are you saying that what you saw doesn’t guarantee us a victory?”
“War is never guaranteed, and even if the gods have granted me a chance to help save many of the men and women under you, some will still fall.”
Francis saw the queen’s eyes light up slightly, and her hand slowly moved to her husband’s arm, resting against it.
“Tomorrow, we shall see just how right your dreams are. For now, there are many here who would like to meet you. Until I am certain that Nehemiah’s attempt to read you is correct, I shall keep you from their claws. No doubt you could imagine what they might try to tempt you with and ensnare you to work with their family.”
The crowd's laughter washed over him, though Francis just bowed.
King Baxter leaned forward, his large frame seemingly ready to topple from the throne.
“Now then, I have heard you had some simple requests for your aid. Are you certain that all that you desire right now is training?”
“I won’t lie, there are many things that I desire, but finding a way to save my brother and an end to what is coming is at the top of them all.”
This time, no glow came from the wolves’ eyes on the throne, earning him a single nod from the King.
“Very well. I'll have someone retrieve your brother and ensure you get the training you requested.”
***
He could tell that Kels looked at him differently than the time before.
“You hold yourself… better than I had expected. You’re already proficient, so I cannot help you get better with the sword without some other assistance.”
“Does that mean you will help me get better?” Francis asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead, never taking his eyes off the blond man.
“If things go as you say and the king allows it, then yes. For now, if you desire, I could train with a different weapon. While we only have limited hours to practice, I have no doubt we could make you a better warrior in other ways.”
Francis felt his cheeks rising as he smiled.
“I’d be up for that!” he replied.
“Good! Then let’s grab a club and see if we can’t make a few bruises appear!”
***
His whole body ached, but Francis wasn’t about to complain, listening to the battle as it played out before him again. He stared at the notification that had come upon finishing his training with Kels.
[ Mace Skill Increased - 6 Basic ]
I hadn’t even considered learning other weapons… but it makes sense.
***
Horns rang out, and the moment came that he had been waiting for.
"DO NOT FLEE! STAND STRONG!"
The same power was there as always, but he resisted it, earning a hard stare from Nehemiah.
“You were right,” Nehemiah said.
“I know, now what comes–” Francis fell to the ground, trying to act like he was suffering from a fit. He began to shake and rolled his eyes back as best he could, feeling the older man grab him.
Others came toward him, and he heard his name called out many times.
“What’s wrong?!” the King shouted.
Baxter’s voice made all the others go silent, and a warm sensation washed over him.
“He’s fine, my King,” a woman nearby said. “Any injury he just suffered should be healed.”
Opening his eyes and blinking, Francis frowned and looked up at Baxter.
Let’s see if he can detect a lie when not on his throne.
“Something… is different.”
“Different? We’re about to do what you said. Are you telling me we need to change our battle plans?”
His cheeks turned red as the King looked ready to reach out and grab him by the throat again.
“No… I’m not certain… we have to do what I said before… just...”
Francis paused, looking in the direction of the battle. He stood on his own, shrugging off Nehemiah’s grip, and frowned.
“The gods didn’t show me everything. Just something… dark. If we don’t stick to the current plan, all your men will die. Just know… whatever happens after that point, I cannot see.”
Grunts and shouts began to come from the people on the platform, so Francis clamped his lips shut, watching the chaos unfold.
The advanced warriors cut down eight lines of beastkin again, the glowing light fading as the healing magic wore off. The moment it did, the black sheet of magic came from the beastkin.
“It’s here!” Francis shouted. “Sound the retreat!”
Cries and shouts came after his outburst from the first warriors dying to the spell.
A large hand grabbed his arm, squeezing so tight, Francis wasn’t sure if the bone was about to break.
“Sound the retreat!” Baxter roared, horns echoing his call immediately.
“I think the enemy knew what we would do and waited for our spell to end,” Francis said.
“How did you not see this?” exclaimed Nehemiah as he grabbed Francis’ other arm.
“It doesn’t work that way,” he protested, trying to free himself from both grips that easily overpowered him. “I can’t see everything! Just what they tell me! I got a warning, a glimpse that–”
Nehemiah’s eyes widened as he looked past Francis at the king, whose face had turned red.
“Almost ten thousand warriors,” Baxter said. “Gone in a moment. You said the gods warned you of what would happen.”
The King looked ready to choke him again, yet Baxter’s eyes turned back to where his army was, surveying the immense loss of life.
They all watched as the beastkin army started to roar and make gestures, appearing to taunt them.
Francis knew what was coming and turned to see the King staring him down.
Lowering his head and holding up a hand, Francis played his only card at that moment. “I didn’t know and couldn’t know,—the gods don’t show me everything all the time. I knew about the creature in the forest, but they just told me about the other!”
Baxter’s nostrils flared, and his red eyes looked able to kill Francis with just a glance.
“My King, I think they knew what we would do,” Francis said. “They were prepared for the healing spell! You’ve used it three times now. They knew what to expect. All I was told was what would happen first. I’m unsure if the gods can see everything that could happen next.”
Baxter roared, turning and glaring at everyone on the platform.
“Who is the fool that promised me that healing spell would be our greatest victory? Who counseled me to use it every time our armies clashed?!”
Those gathered on the platform shifted, and Francis saw a middle-aged man suddenly standing alone, all those gathered around him having moved away.
The man’s face looked pained, like someone had punched him in the gut. His orange robe shook. “Forgive me, sire, I didn’t know–”
“It’s your job to know! Ten thousand warriors! GONE! You promised me that this would be the greatest use of our artifacts! Now look at us. We are crippled! What would have happened if the next two lines had been caught in that spell as well? We would be overrun!“
“Yet they didn’t attack!” exclaimed the pale-faced man, his hands trembling as he dropped to his knees and held them before him. “They… they could have, but they didn’t! Perhaps a mercy?”
A few groans came from the gathered generals and others as King Baxter left Francis’ side, moving to where the balding man was.
In a single second, the king held the man with a single fist. So tight was Baxter’s grip that the orange robe began to immediately strangle the man.
“That isn’t a mercy, you fool. They can come at any time they want. They killed far more of us than we killed of them today. You and I both know they have other troops held in reserve that we haven’t fought yet. We’ve all seen them through our magical screens. So tell me, Lester, why should I let you live?”
Francis watched as a vein throbbed on the temple of the king.
He’s going to choke the man to death.
“Sire… I…” Gasps and gurgling sounds came as Lester’s face turned red, eyes bulging from both arteries being cut off by the fabric of his robe's collar.
Roaring, Baxter tossed the advisor down, ignoring the gasps for air that Lester took once the man was free of the powerful grip. Now, the King began to gaze upon everyone else gathered.
“You all need to find a solution to this problem and quickly! The kingdom of Shenzen may soon fall if my reports are to be believed. Only Baour and Tules are still holding on against the assaults on their lands.”
It’s that bad? Then the rumors were true…
Francis considered everything he had heard over the past six months. The gossip and stories whispered in the different towns he’d moved through with Michael had reported heavy casualties from all the kingdoms. It was believed that the same enemy attacked some of the kingdoms across the great seas as well.
Maybe Michael was right, and it’s the damn rulers and their failure to help each other out when the first reports came in.
“Francis,” Baxter called out.
The sound of his name from the king’s mouth brought him back from his thoughts.
“Sorry, sir, I mean no disrespect. I was just thinking.”
Both red eyes narrowed; each seemed almost to glow.
“I need you to tell me if the gods speak to you again, boy. Your skill gives you honor you haven’t earned, but I won’t deny the help your ability gave today. Perhaps the gods can direct you toward something better than what these fools are offering.”
His brother had always commented on his quick wit. Hoping he was right, Francis played into his strength, knowing that if death came, what mattered most was knowledge.
“I… I don’t know, but I’ll pray and ask. Can you give me more information on the might of the army? Or the spells we have? Perhaps the things the enemy has done before?”
“Why would you need me to tell you those things?” Baxter asked, his eyes narrowing to slits. “You claim to see things; surely you should know all of this.”
“I’m just a vessel. Without knowledge, I’m empty, and until a moment ago I… didn’t know what would happen. Perhaps if I know more, the gods can show me more.”
The King glowered, and his jaw looked as though it would snap from how tightly he clenched it. “Perhaps we should summon the priest or priestess. Maybe they can help.”
A trickle of fear came from within him. Francis wasn’t sure what caused it, just that there was some part of him that didn’t like that idea at all.
“Later perhaps,” Francis said. “For now, all I can do is wait and see if they reveal any more… This… this is why I never share what I see. When things happen that I can’t predict… people don’t react well.”
Some of the men and women behind the king cleared their throats and gave him hard stares, yet no one said a word. Baxter’s stance relaxed slightly.
The king took a few deep breaths, and then his entire demeanor changed. “There is no time for us to spend here like this. Regroup the army, summon the council. I need plans on what to do.” He turned and glared at Nehemiah. “Give this… sage the knowledge he desires. I expect answers soon. You know where to find me.”
With those words said, Baxter jumped off the platform and strode away, a small group of guards moving to quickly flank him.
“We’re in a deep pile of shit,” the older man whispered. “And you… Suddenly wanting to know things like this. Why?”
“I don’t know much about magic, being a ninth son and all, but I’m assuming the little bit I do know tells me your mages can only cast so many spells. Using that healing, one drained a fair amount of their power. I’ve never seen an artifact, but I would guess they have limited uses or require time between uses.”
“Correct,” Nehemiah replied, moving to the edge of the platform and pulling Francis close. “Go on…”
“So, what spells are you holding onto that someone hopes will change the flow of battle? Why not go all out? You say that you fight every month. If you lose a fifth or more of the warriors you need and still manage to kill that many beastkin, why not just go for the victory?”
“Because if we lose like we did today, the war would be over and those beasts would have their way with all of us,” the older man replied. “Still, this isn’t the place to discuss this. Look at those who were with Lester. They haven’t left yet and are trying to decide if sticking a dagger in you is worth the punishment the King might hand out.”
Francis saw what Nehemiah was talking about. Men and women in robes were glancing at him, a few even outright pointed in his direction. Realizing Nehemiah was right, he let the older man lead him away from the platform.
As they started to leave, a hand reached out and caught his arm
“Sage Francis. Tell me, what is the name of your skill?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Priscilla!” Nehemiah snapped. “You know that isn’t polite!”
Francis spun to see a redheaded woman frowning, her blue eyes never leaving Francis’s face.
“Who cares if it is polite?” she replied. “Our King obeyed the old ways, taking the advice of someone you say is a Sage. How can there be a skill like this? I’ve never heard of it, and we both know I am aware of most of the abilities and skills involving magic.”
Her tone left no doubt that she believed what she said.
“Why would I tell you?” Francis asked. “To be honest, you’ve never been more than some person in the background of my dreams. Are you someone special?”
Her cheeks turned red, and her nostrils flared while Nehemiah snorted.
“I am Priscilla Obsterano. Master Mage and the tactician for the king,” she replied. “I have spent over a hundred years by his side, and he knows that I do everything I can to support him. You, however, are just a child. Chosen? Maybe. A fraud? Perhaps. Even if this old fool says he cannot see your skill and just your rank, there is no reason why the King should listen to anything you say.”
“Priscilla,” Nehemiah said slowly, “you know the order of things. To ignore–”
“You forget this is war, and we do not have time to listen to those who provide wrong wisdom or advice. There is no chance for us to win this if we follow a child who has no mind for battle or magic. Show me a Sage with knowledge and wisdom, and I will gladly take their advice. Yet right now… I feel… he is not what we believe.”
Inside his chest, Francis felt like his heart might burst. Somehow, this woman was able to sense the truth. He had so many questions about who she was. Even worse was that Nehemiah stood there, frowning, head cocked.
“I have orders, Priscilla. For now, I’ll obey the King. If he changes his mind, then I shall do what he tells me to. So either step aside, or I will be forced to inform King Baxter that you are going against his wishes.”
The pair locked gazes, and finally, the mage nodded and turned, looking over her shoulder at Francis.
“This conversation isn’t done, Sage Francis.”
She glided away, leaving Francis there with a red-faced old man who was frowning so deeply that his wrinkles seemed to grow wrinkles.
“Come,” Nehemiah huffed, “I don’t have time for this. We need to do as the King has asked. If I were you, I’d stay far from her. She has power and influence, and only her blood oath keeps her from acting worse than she did.”
“Worse? How much worse could she be?” Francis asked.
Nehemiah wagged a finger at him. “You heard what she said. She is a Master Mage. It would be trivial for her to kill either you or me. A single spell and we’d be roasted treats. Only a few in all the kingdom are near her power, and yet she is one of the few with true power that stands here besides the King instead of hiding elsewhere.”
“And why was she not casting spells during the battle? If she–”
“What she can do is a last resort,” the old man said, cutting Francis off. “Now, let me take you where you must go.”
They walked a few dozen yards to where a group of older warriors was gathered in a circle. Shouts coming from the middle of the pack, one voice rising above the rest. As they drew close, an older man stepped from the crowd; he stood a few inches above most, but what caught Francis’s eyes was that his right arm was missing completely at the shoulder. Each step spoke of surety and presence, the chain armor bearing the king's insignia on the front. Two brown eyes were locked on Francis, and a tight, slight smile was on the perfectly clean-shaven face.
“Stenson. May I present–”
“Sage Francis. I’m well aware of who he is, Nehemiah.”
Nehemiah grunted and then nodded. “As you should be, General Stenson. Baxter told me to take him to someone who could talk about knowledge of ourselves and our enemy. You are the best one for that. You told me once that true wisdom and knowledge come from those who seek out the best. We both know that’s you. Besides, I’m going to walk away and leave him with you. So either do what Baxter has asked, or answer to the King why you did not.”
The one-armed general frowned and nodded once.
“Very well, I shall see what I can do about educating this boy while I try to win a war.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Nehemiah replied, bowing once before walking away.
Sighing, Stenson looked Francis up and down and then motioned with his only hand. “Come, I need to check on a few things, and we can talk there.”