Touch of Fate

Chapter 241: Testing Out

Chapter 241: Testing Out

Skull Lord Kultanis was annoyed.

This was a rare occurrence for the ancient entity, as he'd long ago stopped feeling anything but the strongest of emotions. Even his fear of death, which had encouraged him to enter his current state of being, had long ago faded completely, leaving him in a perpetual calm.

Yet, he found the situation in front of him increasingly annoying, and that was not merely because of the weather.

Rain and wind were lashing at his undead army, bringing with them all kinds of debris which were in turn proving more dangerous than he'd like to admit. Every now and then, he'd see one of the animate corpses that made up the bulk of his forces being crushed by an airborne tree, or picked up bodily and thrown some distance. Of course, such losses weren't the cause of his annoyance. Rather, it was the source of the storm that bothered him.

He gestured to one of his necromancers nearby, and the creature began to chant in dark, sibilant whispers. Soon a sphere of translucent, grey energy surrounded him and much of his command staff, protecting them from the worst of the storm.

The Skull Lord did not order this out of his own discomfort. Indeed, things like the rain and cold had not bothered him for several centuries. Rather, he desired to speak, and wanted his words to be heard.

"I am beginning to suspect that you underestimated the Dragonknight, human. Did you not say he would be overwhelmed by our bird swarm?" Kultanis rumbled, his voice echoing strangely in the confines of his ornate, black armor. He shifted his gaze enough to look down at the pitiful living being who had assured him of the plan's infallibility.

"My lord, I did not think him capable of doing this." The human aristocrat replied calmly.

The man's lack of apparent fear, even in the face of his failure, was annoying Kultanis even further. "Is that all you have to say for yourself? Do you have any idea how many resources we invested in raising that swarm of zombies? How much time was spent in simply gathering a sufficient number of corpses?"

"I understand your frustration lord, but I am no seer. Considering how much difficulty he had in confronting the Cabal's abomination, it seemed reasonable to believe that he lacked the power to stop the swarm. Nothing of our observations indicated him capable of summoning this kind of storm."

Kultanis gestured at the sky, "Evidence suggests otherwise."

The man frowned slightly, the first change in his facial expression since he'd arrived. "Truthfully, only a Tier 4 mage could perform this kind of feat without external aid. Since I have a reliable source that confirms he is still Tier 3, I can only assume he has access to an artifact that allows him to control the weather."

The Skull Lord briefly considered disposing of the man. His schemes had been helpful in truth, but once the remaining Almiran and Tenundian forces were crushed, the traitor would have outlived his usefulness. It was questionable whether or not it was worth it to keep him around now that he'd failed.

[Well, he's a fairly accomplished mage, for a human. I'll allow him to participate in the coming battle, and should he survive, I simply need to dispose of him once the dust has settled.]

Kultanis returned his gaze to the sky, trying to calculate how much longer the storm would last, but was quite frankly drawing a blank. In all of his centuries of unlife, he'd never seen anything quite like this. Its sheer power and intensity was a bit awe inspiring, especially since there was no indication of it letting up anytime soon. Merely thinking about it was eliciting a minute trickle of fear in the back of his mind. Something that he hadn't experienced for centuries.

He snorted mentally, chiding himself for cowardice. No matter how accomplished this Dragonknight was, he couldn't hold a candle to the most terrifying being Kultanis had ever faced. The being that was simultaneously his creator, and greatest foe.

Turning towards his adjutant, a Death Warrior named Boletor, he issued a few quick commands. "We will be staying here until the storm calms."

The knight saluted, before moving off to spread the word.

"Should we not be advancing on them, my lord?" The human asked. "Surely even the Dragonknight would have expended his mana reserves summoning something like this, and the storm will cover our approach. Is this not the best time to take the offensive."

Kultanis regarded him once more. "While I see the wisdom of your plan, I cannot agree. We have suffered a great loss today because we took action without considering the possibility of failure. I'll not risk the rest of my army so lightly. There are steps I plan to take in the meantime, but we will wait until I deem it appropriate to advance. Is that clear, human?"

The man bowed, "Very clear, my lord."

"Good. Then, you are dismissed. Go and tend to your biological needs. There will not be time to do so later."

The human aristocrat saluted in the manner of his people and stalked off towards a tent that had somehow been erected in the deluge. Evidently, the man's subordinate had manged to accomplish the feat on her own, owing to the fact that none of the Lacotians would assist her.

Discarding the pitiful Viscount from his mind, Kultanis focused his attention on what to do next. It was unfortunate that Vivienne had failed in her task, and had thus become excommunicate. He could really make use of her abilities now, but the laws of Lacot demanded that he kill her the next time he laid eyes on her. Which was likely the reason she'd gone into hiding.

[Well, if I cannot make use of a Wraithbound, then I shall rely on the next best thing.]

He turned to Boletor, who'd just returned from his errand, "Summon the Furies. I have a mission for them."

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Meanwhile, in the hidden basement of a certain warehouse, located on the poorer side of Almirn's docks, a gathering was taking place. A dozen men and women, each of whom represented one of the city's most powerful gangs, were seated around a circular table while a crowd composed of other gang members clustered around, carefully listening to their words.

"The Shadow Lords pledge their service to the new ruler. May his reign be long."

Brenden nodded his thanks to the man swathed in black silk from head to toe. The organization he represented had a reputation for being the most accomplished assassins in the city. It was good to have them on his side, since the alternative was a bit concerning.

Another man, dressed in a simple brown robe with a hood drawn low to obscure his face, stepped forward and bowed. "The Brotherhood of the Ancient and Most Salubrious Art of Fishmongery do solemnly swear to abide by his majesty's commands. May his fish be ever fresh."

Resisting the urge to snicker, Brenden nodded once more.

"And thus, our covenant has been formed, and the ruler chosen." Fang, acting in his role as the ceremony's officiant, announced, "By ancient tradition, if there are any members present who dispute this choice, you may speak now."

Silence descended on the room for a few moments, as everyone waited for someone to speak.

"If there are no challenges, then we shall move on to the-"

"I challenge the ruler!" A voice suddenly called from the back of the dank basement, as a trio of hooded figures stepped forward.

Once they had reached the circle of gang leaders, the man in the lead threw back his hood, eliciting a few gasps from the assembled crowd.

"Arganis! You dare to show your face here!" The leader of the Waverunners, a female fox beastman named Icthia, yelled. If not for the rule banning weapons from the meeting, Brenden was sure she would have drawn her trident and attempted to skewer the newcomer, so intense was her expression of hatred.

"Hmph," The man called Arganis laughed dismissively, while running a hand through his wave, copper colored hair. "This meeting is open to all of Almirn's gangs, isn't it? Then why shouldn't I participate? I am the leader of the Bloodkin, aren't I?"

"You and your murderous ilk were banished for your actions!" The Icthia growled. "You have no place at this gathering."

Arganis shook his head, "Its true that we left the city, but it was not because of any paltry banishment. I don't recognize the authority of this pathetic collection of ageing weaklings you call a Council. I merely took the opportunity to accomplish a few of my goals in the outside world."

Brenden leaned over to Fang and whispered, "What's this all about?"

The bear beastman whispered back, "The Bloodkin were banished from the city for repeatedly robbing and killing the rich and powerful of Almirn."

"Isn't that something you'd normally approve of?"

"Not at all. By targeting those with power, they were drawing all the wrong kinds of attention. If the Council hadn't banished them, they would have soon brought the city's officials down on us. As it was, we spent a few years lying low while the guard was given an unprecedented level of support from the kingdom, and entered a period of intense activity."

"Alright, but what does it mean when he challenges me? Is it some kind of duel?"

"Of sorts. Traditionally, its more of a test of skill, where both participants prove their worthiness to be the ruler of Almirn's underworld."

Brenden frowned in thought while tuning out the argument going on in front of him. "What does the test consist of?"

"It varies from case to case, but the challenger is supposed to propose a task, which you can accept if you choose. If not, then the Council votes to either accept it or deny it. He has three chances to put forth a worthy test before his challenge is revoked."

[Seriously, what the hell is up with these people and their arcane rules? In Wyrport we would have just knifed the bastard and been done with it.]

"You have no right-" Icthia started again.

"Oh, I have every right. Do you want to know what I was doing these last few years? I was cementing my position as a candidate for the King of Thieves!" Arganis announced, once again eliciting gasps from the crowd. He grinned broadly, evidently enjoying the attention he was getting. "In fact, I have even succeeded in sitting upon the Liar's Chair without losing my life. Can any of you say the same? Am I not the most worthy to rule the city's underworld?"

The assembled gang leaders were now looking between him and Brenden, as if unsure of who to support.

"That's a bold claim you are making. In fact, it is a little unbelievable, considering we have the true heir to the King of Thieves sitting right here." Fang broke in, voice a low rumble of menace. "What proof do you have?"

Arganis shot the bear beastman a dirty look. "The mere fact that I can make such a claim and not be struck down should be proof enough. But, if you truly believe that pretender is better suited to the role, then let me challenge him. If he's really the chosen successor for the King, then he shouldn't have any problem defeating me in a contest of skill."

Fang grumbled for a few seconds, but couldn't find any good way of refuting the man. Finally, he glanced over at Brenden. "Well, boss, what do you want to do?"

Brenden sighed, finding all of this immensely tedious.

[Aren't I supposed to be some kind of underworld tyrant? I did essentially unite the gangs by virtue of my strength. Why can't I just crush that upstart and call it finished?] He thought grimly, already knowing that he had to play along with the Council's silly rules if he wanted them to obey him in the future. Still, he was starting to get annoyed by all these delays and complications. They were in the middle of a war for survival after all. Why can't they be a little more worried about that?

He stood up and locked gazes with Arganis. "Fine. Present your challenge."

The upstart grinned again, with all the confidence of someone whose plan had worked perfectly. "Since we both claim to be successors to the King of Thieves, I thought it only right that we compete in terms of the skills that made the original one famous. As such, I challenge you to a contest of thievery. We will both attempt to steal a particular item and bring it here for the Council to witness. The first to do so is the winner."

Brenden noticed several of the gang leaders nodding their heads, as if already agreeing to the proposal. "What is the target item, then?" He asked.

"Since we needed something worthy of the King of Thieves, I thought it only fitting the target something beyond the reach of common rogues. Something that will require the best of even the most accomplished thief." Arganis replied triumphantly, as he paused for dramatic effect. "We will compete to steal the crown of the King of Almirn."

"Just to make it clear, all we have to do is bring the crown here, right?"

"That's right. Seems easy enough, doesn't it."

"Accepted. The challenge begins now." Brenden replied blandly while making his way towards the exit, leaving the assembled gang members stunned with the sudden change in direction. Even Arganis was momentarily rendered speechless, and was only able to stare after him as he ascended the stairs leading into the warehouse.

Once he was outside, Brenden broke into a run and headed towards the Old City, heedless of the intense rain that had sprung up out of nowhere. He knew just the person he needed to see.