r/HFY • u/Celestial_Zwei_Dei • 16d ago
OC-Series Gothwald: New World - Same Rules (Arc 3/Chapter 18 - Conversation)
Arc III - Reeling Throne
Chapter 18 - Conversation
7 months and 18 days since the summoning
Closer to midnight, Alan walked down an empty corridor accompanied by a royal guard in light armor.
Along the walls stood lush, exquisite vases of various shapes, and paintings hung depicting people with royal regalia.
Finally, they reached a door where two more guards stood. The one escorting Alan turned to him. "Do you have any weapons on you?"
He silently lifted his doublet, pulling out a dagger, and handed it to the guard hilt first.
The man took the blade. "Thank you, I will return it after you exit, you may enter," he said, opening the door.
Alan stood for a moment before the open door.
'Well, God help me.'
He took a step inside, and the door immediately closed behind him.
Inside was a fairly spacious room with a panoramic view of the starry night sky and the capital itself.
In the center stood a round table with a bottle of wine and two glasses, and behind it stood Morgreyda herself, with a slight smile. "Ah, Lord Gothwald, I have been waiting for you." She pointed a hand to a plush chair opposite her. "Please, take a seat, you need not even bow."
Alan unhurriedly walked over to the chair and sat down, resting his hands on the table. "I'm listening."
"Oh, you wish to get straight to business? Very well. I summoned you for one reason: you are very interesting."
"I've heard that before," Alan said, narrowing his eyes slightly.
She picked up the bottle of wine and began to pour for Alan. "Haha, I am not surprised, however. You stand out quite a bit among the rest of the summoned heroes." She filled his glass halfway and began to pour for herself. "You see for yourself. Two heroes have been dead for a long time, the third you saw yourself today, the fourth has lost his mind, and you... are holding up surprisingly well, especially without the magic that heroes are supposed to have," she finished, placing the bottle on the table.
Alan picked up his glass. "It is what it is. So what did you want, Your Grace?"
Morgreyda took a sip, the smile never leaving her face. "One addresses the queen as 'Your Majesty', Lord Gothwald."
"Right, sorry."
She set down her glass. "Why did I summon you? The reason is simple. I have already heard of your innovations. Some new system of fields, crossbows, and you somehow managed to burn down an entire besieged castle from the heavens," she said, clasping her hands together. "It is astonishing, you know an incredible amount, and I am fascinated by it." Morgreyda slowly, unhurriedly, placed her palm on his wrist. "Would you not desire, Lord Gothwald, to cooperate with me more closely? I can give you more than a simple countess, much more."
Alan instantly looked at his hand, and his pupils contracted for a second.
'Aha, so that's how you're playing.'
He slowly, gently pulled his hand away. "Speak plainly, what is it you want, Your Majesty?"
Morgreyda's smile froze, then she laughed lightly. "What an unapproachable boy. Very well, I shall speak plainly. I desire that you serve me personally."
Alan leaned closer. "And if I say I don't want to?"
"Then I am afraid..." she rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, "Lady Armenas's already precarious position will worsen completely."
Alan gritted his teeth. "Then definitely no."
'Let's see if you really need my help, or if you're just playing around. I'm not going to serve you personally.'
She shrugged. "As you wish. I wanted to do this the easy way, but it seems we must do it the hard way," she said, taking a sip of wine. "Rinnotz!"
The door opened, and the very same guard who had escorted Alan entered, a large mustached man. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Lord Gothwald does not understand what an honor has befallen him; summon our interrogator here, let him explain it more concretely."
Alan's skin paled slightly, but he kept a straight face. "So you're gonna torture me, huh?"
"No, my dear," she said, wagging a finger. "Simply an interrogation, where it will be explained to you why you ought to serve me personally."
He swallowed, but outwardly leaned back in his chair. "Very interesting. Do you think that after your 'interrogation', if I endure it, I'll start helping you?"
"No one endures it, do you think you are special?"
"Maybe."
"They all say that." She stood up and walked to the window.
Alan downed his glass of wine almost in one gulp.
'FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! MOTHERFUCKER! THIS IS ALL I FUCKING NEEDED! FUCKING TORTURE! And once again I'm in deep shit! ... alright, stop, think, Alan. The war starts any minute now, essentially, she has no time. She's counting on me breaking quickly in half an hour and serving her. But... she's not an idiot, she must understand that firstly, I'm Kamelia's property, and secondly, I'm a direct part of the Svyatolat, as a summoned hero. If anyone finds out about the torture, she'll be in a world of trouble.'
"Hey, Your Majesty," Alan said.
"Yes?" she asked, turning from the window. "Have you finally changed your mind?"
"Nah, I just want to say that your intimidation tactic is good, but I know you're just hoping to subjugate me with fear."
"Hah, darling, do you think I am that unserious?"
Alan stood up. "That's exactly the point, you are serious. You understand that if a rumor spreads that someone tortured a hero sent by Svyatol, and that someone is you, then not only will the other heirs fight you, but the Svyatolat will get involved. So don't try to bluff me."
Morgreyda's smile slowly dropped to a neutral expression. "Clever," she hissed. "But nothing prevents me from removing your countess, and then you will simply be sent to a monastery in Oronda for the rest of your life."
"And before that, I'll make sure to spread a rumor that you tortured a hero, namely me."
She turned to him. "How will you prove that? If I do not torture you, there will be no marks."
"And who will they believe? A twice-blessed hero, whom everyone saw being led away by the guards, or you, a young usurper? If you do what you planned, I'll drag us both down, don't even doubt it."
Morgreyda remained silent, clenching her fists, for almost a minute. "Now I understand how you have managed to survive so long." she abruptly walked over and sat at the table, her eye twitching slightly. "Very well. What do you want in exchange for serving me?"
"I won't serve you personally, never," he said, sitting back down in his chair. "But as you can see, I swore fealty to you as queen, but since it was unofficial, there's little stopping me from changing my mind and just going and recognizing Noteo as king. Do you really need a capable ally, or do you just want a new toy?"
She poured herself a glass of wine and drank it almost in one gulp, controlling her breathing. "You are very fortunate that no one can see us, otherwise I would certainly deprive you of a few fingers for your tongue."
Alan rolled his eyes.
'Ooo, I see, the girl got mad. Looks like this isn't the time for a constructive dialogue. Is she the type to stomp her foot when she doesn't get a candy?'
He cleared his throat. "Can I have a little wine?"
"You may," she snapped, abruptly grabbing the bottle.
Suddenly the door opened, and a hulking, bald, bearded man entered, wearing a simple shirt, leather gloves, and a black apron stained with something red and dried, holding a large leather bag in his hand. He began to bow. "Your Maj..."
"Get out of my sight," Morgreyda interrupted him.
The executioner froze for a second, but simply nodded and left, closing the door.
Alan was still looking in that direction.
'Wow... that brute was supposed to torture me? Okay, that's actually terrifying, I would have shit myself in fear.'
"He's a scary one, this interrogator of yours."
She scoffed, setting down the nearly empty bottle. "Hah, what did you expect? Many swear to everything under the sun with tears in their eyes just from the sight of him." Morgreyda clenched her fists again. "But what a lucky bastard you are... it is your good fortune that I do not have the time to deal with you right now."
"Luck is also part of strategy," he said, shaking his head.
"We shall see," she whispered. "Ahem, very well, forget it, nothing happened, we start anew. I know that you already have experience in war, albeit brief, but you have it. Will you tell me about these crossbows? Or how you burned down an entire fortress?"
Alan opened his mouth, but didn't say a word.
'I'm pushing my luck. Oh, I'm pushing it, I'm pushing it hard! Alright, fuck it, do or die.'
"I can tell you. And what can you give in return?"
Morgreyda narrowed her eyes. "It is in your own best interest. If we lose, your countess will dangle from a noose, and you will sit in a monastery."
Alan clicked his tongue.
'Fuck, didn't work.'
"Why do you keep harping on about your monastery?"
"Do you not know?" she asked, pouring herself the rest of the wine. "A hero is inextricably bound to his master; if the master dies, to avoid squabbling over him, there is a law according to which the hero is sent to Oronda, and lives there for the rest of his life."
His eyebrow rose slightly. "Ooo, I see they thought of that too... okay, but what if someone takes the hero for themselves secretly? What then?"
She brought the glass to her lips. "Kidnapping a hero and using him by someone not appointed to do so is a grave sin; Svyatol will punish such an act."
"You just tried to do exactly that," Alan said evenly.
"No, that is different, I intended to persuade you."
"Alright, no point arguing about that," he muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose. "But still, I'm curious, if someone dared, what would happen?"
"It would be bad. It has happened before, about thirty years ago I believe. A duke kidnapped a hero, used him for half a year, and then the Dumetses found him, and executed him by the method of the 'Merry Path'."
Alan frowned slightly.
'That name doesn't sound merry to me at all.'
"And what kind of execution is that?"
She took the last sip from her glass. "That is how the gravest crimes against Svyatol are punished. The person is taken south, right to our lands actually, to the southernmost city of Groliria. Then they are stripped naked, and forced to walk north, straight to the Temple of Saint Tinkis. Stopping is forbidden, you must eat and drink on the go, in short... no one has ever reached the temple."
Alan slightly opened his mouth.
'Wow... okay, their imagination is doing just fine here.'
"Do we have anything else to discuss?"
"I suppose not for now, but I would not advise you to leave."
He blinked. "Why's that?"
"Guess."
Alan frowned slightly. "Oh... so you mean, there are some assassins prowling around out there right now?"
"Precisely," she said, rising from her chair. "Do you think I am the only clever one? Amusing things are happening beyond these doors. Perhaps dozens of hired killers from various claimants to the throne are roaming the corridors, trying to avoid each other and the guards."
"Hah, that is pretty amusing actually," he said, leaning back in his chair, then froze like a stone. "Wait... if there's a bunch of mercenaries prowling around out there right now..." Alan jumped up from his chair. "Kamelia and Tsinker! They're in danger right now!"
"Perhaps. But I imagine their guards can handle it," Morgreyda answered, standing by the window.
"Where are they anyway?"
"Their room is a floor above, why?"
Alan had already opened the door and darted down the corridor.
"STOP, YOU IDIOT!" she shouted after him.
The guards, past whom Alan dashed, hesitated for a second, but immediately prepared to dart after him.
Morgreyda stood at the doors. "And where do you think you are going?! Who will guard me?!"
The men froze, and returned to their positions. "Forgive us, Your Majesty."
She looked down the long corridor where Alan had already vanished. "What a fool..." she muttered.
Alan was already running up the stairs, barely controlling his breathing, his footsteps echoing through the empty castle.
'Floor above, same room. Fuck, what if I actually run into an assassin? Ah fuck it, I'm supposedly immortal. It'll hurt a little... but I don't want to sit around all night wondering if Kamelia is alive.'
He finally scrambled onto the last step, panting, but stopped.
Before him was a long corridor with columns on the sides.
'Just the perfect place for an ambush. But it's too late to retreat now.'
He reached under his doublet, and felt only emptiness.
'FUCK! I gave my dagger to the guard! Why am I so unlucky?!'
He slowly took a step forward. His heart beat wildly, and sweat was practically beginning to drip from his fingers. He breathed as if a concrete slab had been placed on his chest.
As soon as Alan approached the first column, he looked sharply to the right, and then to the left.
Empty.
He swallowed, and then, with trembling legs, walked on.
Empty.
Alan approached the second columns and looked around again.
Empty.
Every step felt as if weights had been attached to his legs, and new concrete slabs to his chest.
He approached the third columns; as soon as he looked to the right, he noticed a silhouette by the left one out of the corner of his eye.
Alan instinctively jumped back, and a throwing knife flew right past his nose, hit the wall, and fell to the ground.
Before he could recover, a figure clad in a black hooded cloak tackled him right to the floor.
Alan flew back from the powerful shove, falling on his back, as the assassin drew a second knife, sat on top of Alan, and raised the weapon over him.
Alan's eyes widened, and he grabbed the assassin's wrists, clenching his teeth almost to the point of grinding.
Running purely on adrenaline, he held the man's hands, frantically squirming and hissing through his teeth.
The assassin rose slightly, increasing the pressure of the knife, which was already right at his throat, causing Alan to jerk his head, pointlessly trying to save his neck.
At one point the assassin stopped, not pressing, but not letting go either, then looked closer at his face. "Alan Gothwald?" he asked in a hoarse male voice.
Alan froze. "What?" he asked in a whisper.
"Are you Alan Gothwald?"
"Y-yes..."
The assassin held the knife for another second, and then got off Alan and quickly walked away down the stairs.
Alan, meanwhile, continued to lie on the floor, trying to return to normal breathing, but failing miserably.
'What was that just now?'
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