Chapter 2: VOWS

Chapter 2 - VOWS

Everything slowed down for Victor. His senses sharpened to the point of pain. He could feel every curve of the leather-covered, metal wire-wrapped hilt of his sword. Hot wetness spreading over the back of his neck distracted him, and he took in the scene behind him with a glance. The King’s blood covered everyone, from the princess to the High Magus.

The self-congratulatory laughter of the Outworlder drew his attention forward. I’m going to kill that fucker. But that wasn’t his immediate role, and Victor knew it. He came up with each of the various action plans.

“Lana! Fider!” Victor barked. “Forward!” The need to cut down the grinning Outworlder fuck burned within everything that made him who he was. Instead, he pushed the princess into the protective shelter of Big Bennet’s arms. “Get her out of here!”

He stepped forward to shield the princess with his body from whatever the bastard had done to his king.

Lana led the charge with grace lent to her from her Dance rune, moving in such a way that not even the most ensorcelled arrow would hit her. Victor remembered her first day when she put him on his ass during assessment, never allowing him to touch her. He had never been so proud to —

Splat.

An eyeball smacked into his chest and stuck, looking up at him. The violet color of the iris confirmed it belonged to Lana.

The Kingsguard that had been Lana was now a quickly expanding red mist of blood and hair. Bone and sinew hit Fider as he moved to burst through it in his Rage. Fider, whose love of dice and pretty women got him into trouble more often than not. Fider, who constantly put his slight frame in harm’s way in pursuit of his duty. Fider, who had been secretly in love with Lana.

Splat.

Victor’s lips pulled back in a snarl. He knew it was his turn to die. Thorsen and Big Bennet knew what to do. They had practiced relentlessly to prepare for the assassination and removal of both the king and Princess Lataya.

They knew what to do.

And so did Victor.

Confident that the Princess would be safe, his sword at the ready, Victor launched himself forward. Every ounce of his being was focused on one thing. Cut. “My life for the princess!”

There was a blue flash in front of him, and his nose broke as he ran face-first into an arcane blue barrier. Barely noticing the pain, he slammed his fists and sword into the barrier. “Fuck!” Victor roared, blood and spittle spraying. “You sheep-whoring ass-clown!”

“Ser Victor!” High Magus Thraina thundered behind him. “I can’t hold it much longer!”

For a moment, Clyde’s face expressed surprise at being blocked from killing, but quickly pivoted into a rueful smile as he began pulling some sort of red lightning out of his hands, likely to destroy the obstacle. “You can’t run from the HOA!”

Despite his anger and frustration, Victor quickly moved away from the arcane shield. Approaching the struggling elf woman, he felt a surge of pride in his colleague. “He’ll kill you, you know,” he said softly.

“Not easily,” she replied coldly. “Get Princess Lataya out. Collect as many of our allies as you can. Make new ones, no matter how vile. It’s going to be you against these fucking Outworld bastards, and you can’t be picky. Avenge King Dorin. Avenge me.”

“Goodbye High Ma—Thraina,” he said. “Make him work for it.”

High Mage Thraina laughed bitterly as she reached into her robe and handed him two books. “Don’t lose these. Now go!”

Victor nodded and ran after the rest of the Kingsguard. As he rounded the corner, Victor heard Thraina shout one last time.

“By the Core, I fucking hate you Out—”

I’ll grieve the High Mage later, he thought as he sprinted down the maze of hallways. Sword still in hand, he followed the chosen route for removing either the king or the princess separately. His bones sang with the need of his sword to cut, cut, cut. Victor gritted his teeth. It was getting more insistent.

Ahead, he heard his fellow Kingsguard moving toward the agreed-upon exit: a set of passages built into the walls that led outside the castle. The secret passages were known to only a few in the king’s court. And now most of them are dead.

He passed cowering servants, wishing he could give them some word of encouragement. Victor tasted blood. These people that he knew from the day-to-day were going to be enslaved, used, and abused for months—or years—before he could gather the forces needed to end the isekai’d fucks. Before he saw Princess Lataya seated properly as Queen Lataya on the Core Throne.

Victor turned a corner to see his fellow Kingsguard fighting the red-cloaked idiot, Lance, and his friend, the MILF-Hunter, while the princess cowered against a side table, a blank look on her face. Victor couldn’t shake the feeling that the Outworld scum were toying with them.

Big Bennet roared and dropped his sword. “Fight me like a man, whelp!”

The stout Outworlder before him laughed and dropped his massive Warhammer, emblazoned with the number “40” followed by a “K.” The two slammed together in a grappling hold, and they strained, fingers laced, against each other.

“Get him, Lance!” the one called Benjamin cheered, blocking Thorsen’s slashes and strikes with ease. He seemed to be using a blade of light or crystal with a stylized bird on it. Thorsen panted with exertion, and Victor saw he was bleeding from several cuts. Cuts that had sheared through his armor.

“Fucking pricks,” Victor spat, cracking his neck to the left. Neither Outworlder noticed him yet, so focused on the Kingsguard in front of them.

“Come on!” grunted Lance. “We just want to play with her a little bit. We’re the heroes who saved the kingdom. That means we get the princess. Right, Benjamin?”

“Oh, absolutely! Too bad her mom’s not here.”

The two men laughed in a way that made Victor’s blood boil. Lance had gotten the upper hand, forcing Big Bennet to his knees. Victor saw his opening and rushed forward. Cut. Cut. CUT. It was imperative.

Victor’s sword flashed as it sliced through the right arm of the Outworlder, just below the obnoxious pauldron, going through the meaty bicep. But it also carved through the bone as if it was fresh butter.

Everything stopped as Big Bennet let go of the appendage and Lance looked at his arm hitting the floor. No one moved.

“What the fuck, man? What the fuck!” he cried out in panic as blood spurted out of his stump. “You can’t cut me! My skin is like iron!” The stout Outworlder stumbled back as he tried to apply pressure.

Victor’s bones burned with the cost of the mana for his sword’s rune. It had cost more than usual to slice through the arm, and he knew he would pay in bone if he took another swing. Instead, he helped the Outworlder’s backward motion with a kick to the chest before whirling on the MILF-Hunter.

The Outworlder’s wide eyes and pale face told Victor everything he needed to know. The boy feared him. No doubt watching his friend brought down in one blow made him think Victor was more powerful than expected.

Victor grinned. “You’re next, lad.”

“I’m the MILF-Hunter,” Benjamin said, his voice breaking. “You can’t do this to me!”

The Outworlder raised his sword shakily; the point aimed at Victor’s chest.

Still grinning, Victor advanced. Benjamin screamed and swung wide, only for the Kingsguard to step easily out of the way. All the Outworlder’s earlier skill seemed to disappear as he swung and jabbed, missing the sidestepping Victor by inches.

“Fine, if I can’t get you, then I’ll just kill the bonus objective!” the Outworlder snarled as he stepped back from Victor and pointed his glowing blade at the still cowering princess. The blade glowed brighter, and Thorsen rushed him low, putting his shoulder into the MILF-Hunter’s gut and knocking him from his feet before collapsing on him.

“We have to go, Victor,” Big Bennet said behind him.

Victor nodded. “I’ll get Princess Lataya,” he said without taking his eyes off the two struggling on the ground. He didn’t see the fancy blade the MILF-Hunter had anymore, which meant it had been made of light, not crystal. “Used too much mana on cutting the idiot.”

“Got it.”

Suddenly light burst through Thorsen’s back and he cried out in agony. Thorsen died before the smell of burnt flesh filled Victor’s nostrils.

The unsteady Outworlder got to his feet and pointed his sword at the princess again. “No one’s going anywhere. I need to level up.”

“No!” cried Big Bennet, who bodily threw himself between Princess Lataya and the Outworlder.

Light burst from the tip of the sword, striking the large Kingsguard in the gut. Victor watched in horrid fascination as it burned through his armor and looked like it would burn through the rest of him. Then it stopped. A thump on the floor.

Victor turned back to the MILF-Hunter’s unconscious form on the floor, a well-dressed Toadman with a wooden chair leg in his hand. Ambassador Ornik’Kinnic’Amankan. No, Ornik is proper at this moment. “Hail, Ambassador Ornik.”

“Hail, Ser Victor. The King, where is the Loved King?”

“Dead by the hand of the Outworlders. As is the High Magus,” Victor replied. Quickly, he cleaned his sword and sheathed it. He went to the princess and picked her up, cradling her against him. “It’s just Princess Lataya.”

The ambassador croaked sadly. “This, this we were afraid of,” he said, looking at the princess. “The arm, is that the arm of the other Outworlder? The Outworlder bleeding out?”

“Well, I did disarm him,” Victor said with a tired shrug.

Ambassador Ornik’Kinnic’Amankan gave him a reproachful look. “Quickly, grab the arm. The others, we must meet them. Do you have an exit?”

Victor grabbed the arm but hesitated. His honor demanded that he not share the secrets of the castle. Yet all of Vadelock loved and revered King Dorin, as well as his daughter. Her safety was all.

“Yes, Ambassador. Just a little farther. It’s—”

Suddenly, a one-eyed llama trotted from a side-hallway, looked at them, grunted, and continued, an intense look in its eye. Like it was on a mission. The two men looked at it in shock.

“What in the name of the gods? Where did that come from?” Victor swore, shaking his head. “It’s not in our way. Let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Ser Victor.”

They walked in silence, Victor carrying a nonresponsive Princess Lataya. The surprisingly capable Vadelock ambassador wielded his improvised cudgel at the ready. In the distance, he heard the sounds of battle, accompanied by both screams of horror and cruel laughter.

“Ser Victor, did you by chance get Thraina’s book?”

Victor stopped and looked at the wall. “I did. Now where is that stone?” he muttered. The entrance was well engineered not to be noticeable, but was enchanted to be difficult to gain entrance to. The false stone changed daily, sometimes even hourly, to confound pursuers. Even at his most vigilant, Victor had scorned the paranoia of those involved in the design. No longer.

“Hurry, you must hurry,” encouraged the Ambassador. The sounds of wanton destruction and laughter were getting closer.

With a click, the false stone revealed itself to the Kingsguard. “Ah ha!” as it faded away, he stuck his arm in to the elbow, feeling around for the catch. Without a sound, the wall moved sideways. “Come on, Ambassador. We need to move.”

With a barely audible thunk, the door closed behind them. The princess began to sob, clutching him around the neck as the torches lit with a reddish flame. “Where’s Daddy?”

Victor grimaced.

“I will kill them. I will fucking kill them all for you, my princess.”