While Lydia obviously wasn’t fully on board with his plan, Drake appreciated that she accepted his orders despite her obvious reservations. He knew she was simply looking out for him. He also completely trusted her and the others to keep him safe.
He suspected any Proudglade knight who came after him would get shot by multiple arrows, stabbed with some magic knives, and cut in half by a spectral soul-rending axe before they got anywhere near him. Then probably teabagged by spider tree children.
He looked to his vero and spoke quietly. “As per our sacred pact, I ask you to lead only me forward until we reach the edge of where the knights have made camp. Leave the tunnel open behind me, but stay out of sight. If I say the word ‘Close’ and make a run for it, you are to immediately close the branches between me and the knights.”
The little stick child chittered quietly. Hopefully, that meant it understood all that. He glanced back at his battle maids, at Sachi, and saw all eyes on him. Lydia’s were worried. Emily’s were intrigued. And Sachi’s, well... she still looked like she wanted to eat him.
Ahead of him, branches creaked quietly as the vero moved ahead. Drake walked after it and kept walking until the firelight ahead was so bright he needed to squint his eyes after all the darkness. He could hear low voices talking, and the crackle of firewood.
He spotted a woman in golden armor sitting on a log not far ahead. She had her helmet off and had red hair, like Emily, though she looked to be closer to Zuri’s age than his own. He wasn’t crazy about his people killing a woman, but if she came after him, it’d be her fault.
“Hey, Westin!” Drake shouted as loudly as he could, and he was pleased when his voice boomed through the trees. “You still awake, old chap? We need to talk!”
The redhead sitting on the stump almost fell off it as he called out. She fumbled for her sword and shield before hopping to her feet and glaring into the dark. “Who goes there?”
Behind her, shouts sounded and armor clattered as the rest of the knights came to attention and started getting themselves together. He hoped they were all freaked out right now. Only someone truly reckless or truly powerful would freely approach them like this.
The female knight couldn’t see him, could she? Not with her night vision ruined by the nearby campfire, and with his all but invisible ninja armor cloaking his movements. Drake felt like Batman at the moment, which was a great way to feel.
He strode to the edge of the firelight. The moment the female knight’s eyes snapped to him, he smoothly pulled back his hood to reveal his face. “Remember me?”
The woman glared at him, but she didn’t charge into the dark to chop his head off. With the firelight to illuminate her from behind, he didn’t miss the way her eyes visibly darted left and right. She was worried he had a whole army hidden out in the woods with him. Given how confident he looked right now, who wouldn’t be?
“I’m Lord Gloomwood,” he reminded her. “And you are?”
A bulky male knight also not wearing his helmet stumbled into view beside the woman. He had a pale, puffy face, a round nose, and a thick mustache that looked comically huge. He must oil that thing constantly. He also carried a two-handed pike, which made him Pike Knight.
“Lord Gloomwood!” the pike knight declared pompously. “What treachery is this?”
“No treachery.” Drake approached confidently with his hands raised and in clear view. “I just need to have one last chat with Lord Proudglade before he leaves my realm of hospitality.”
Drake was still doing all he could to sound like an evil fantasy overlord, and he hoped he was doing it right. Maybe he should practice in front of a mirror later. After making sure that absolutely no one, including Lydia, was close enough to see or hear him.
Pike Knight stepped forward and gripped his pike with both hands, pointing the business end at Drake. “Not a step closer, villain, or you will face steel!”
His eyes, too, constantly darted every which way but Drake’s. His confident approach had them freaked. As annoying as having his manor staff terrified of him was, having a reputation as an evil asshole had its perks.
“I haven’t come here to fight,” Drake casually reminded both knights. “We agreed I would offer you safe passage. I’m not here to bury you. I’d simply like to talk to my good friend Westin. Some new facts have come to light.”
Pike Knight huffed. “No one here is any friend of yours, worm of Gloomwood!”
“That’s enough, Orson.” Westin’s clear, confident voice came from behind the two knights. “That is Lord Gloomwood, and you will show him the proper respect.”
Orson glanced back and winced. “But lord—”
“Apologize, Orson. Now.”
Orson looked like he’d just bitten right into a lemon, which pleased Drake immensely. The pike knight turned back and incrementally inclined his eyes. “I apologize for my unkind words, lord. Your unexpected arrival has... unmoored me.”
“This man saved my life this afternoon,” Westin reminded his knights as he walked into view. “I would not be alive but for his heroism, so stand down. Both of you.”
Westin confidently walked out to stand in front of both knights, though he did not leave the light of the campfire. “Lord Gloomwood. What do you need to speak to me about?”
Drake knew he needed to sound like some character in a fantasy story. “New matters have come to light. I’d like to speak with you in private, if you’ll be so kind as to have your knights step aside. I will not harm you, nor will I attempt to abduct you again.” Since he could only tell the truth—supposedly—they should believe him.
Orson scowled. “I do not recommend this.”
Westin raised a hand. “It’s fine, Orson. Take the others and spread out around the firelight. Walk far enough that I and Lord Gloomwood may speak privately beside the fire. You can all keep an eye on me there.”
As Westin calmly instructed his knights, Drake paid attention to his manner. Westin carried himself like a lord. His bearing, his posture, and his speech all suggested he was in complete control of his people, and without a blood pact. His father held that blood pact, not him. Westin commanded his people like Drake did... through loyalty.
“I simply cannot allow this!” Orson protested.
Westin casually glanced his way. “Are you defying me?”
The man visibly blanched, then inclined his head. “Please reconsider.”
Enough already, old man, Drake thought in frustration. You’ve lost. Stuff it.
“I’ll be fine, Orson.” Westin lightly clapped the big knight on the shoulder. “Let’s not keep our guest waiting in the cold any longer.” He looked to Drake. “Lord Gloomwood! Please, join me by our fire. I will not harm you, nor will my knights. That is my order.”
Westin also couldn’t lie, so this was all the reassurance Drake needed. Other than the three murderous women still hidden in the trees. He suspected Lydia was going to have a fit watching him walk into the middle of that camp, but he saw no other way to sell his plan.
He waited until Orson and the other knights grudgingly trudged off in four different directions, then strode forward. He entered the camp and followed Westin to a set of recently split logs that had been arranged as benches. The smell of fresh-cut wood lingered with smoke and ash, so they’d cut these logs recently.
Westin sat on one bench and motioned to the other. “Please, my friend, warm yourself. I’d offer you a meal, but our supper is long consumed.”
Westin really did have medieval talk down, but that made sense because he lived in a medieval fantasy world. Drake would do his best to sound the same.
“No need.” He sat on the log bench and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “None of your knights have a rarity that gives them super hearing, do they?”
“They do not.” Westin couldn’t lie. “And you can call me Westin when we are alone.”
“Then you can call me Clint.”
“So you’ve learned of rarities. You’ve been acclimating yourself to your new role?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of acclimating. However, that’s not why I’m here. You saved my life as much as I saved yours, so I owe you the....” He almost said truth and caught himself. “The real story.”
“You don’t owe me anything! It is you who saved me.”
“You kept me from panicking when I woke up,” Drake said, because You kept me from losing my shit wasn’t very fantasy-like. “You also gave me the clue that let me defeat the former Lord Gloomwood. You reminded me I had his power.”
Westin leaned forward. “So you possess a rarity?”
“I do,” Drake said. “I would share it with you, but doing so would compromise the security of my manor. I trust you plan to share all that happened with your father?”
“I must, and I will note your heroics. I owe you.”
“You do. But Westin, you owe Lord Gloomwood.”
Now Westin’s brow visibly furrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“It was Lord Gloomwood who saved your life. Not Clint Eastwood.”
Westin leaned close. “Surely your manor staff did not confuse you? Your heroics were valiant, but you still bear all the debts of Lord Gloomwood. I will speak on your behalf, but—”
“And the debts owed me,” Drake interrupted.
Westin watched him in obvious confusion. “The debts?”
“This is why I needed to speak with you. You see, Westin, I was already Lord Gloomwood when I arrived in this world. Before I arrived. So in regards to who saved your life? You owe a debt to me, Lord Gloomwood.”
Westin’s eyes widened. “How did you come to be the manor’s lord?”
The man didn’t accuse him of lying. Lying wasn’t possible in this world. Drake was going to exploit that weird ass magical fact for all it was worth.
“I didn’t tell you the deal the former lord made with me, did I?”
Now Westin looked more than a bit uncertain. “You had dealings with the old lord before you arrived in this realm? You acted as if you had no idea what was going on!”
“I deceived you.” He’d thought about this, and while people here couldn’t lie, they could misdirect and omit. “I did not know if I could trust you, and I had to know what you knew. So I feigned ignorance and asked questions so you would confirm what I only suspected.”
Westin’s eyes widened. “That was clever, lord.” He now looked impressed.
“Thanks. Even so, once I knew you were a good man, I felt wrong about deceiving you. Which is why I am here now, to tell you what I did not then.”
“But... why did the old lord pass his blood pact onto you?”
“This happened in my world, Westin. I was in an accident. I know you don’t know what a truck is, so think of a magic carriage that moves without horses. Anyway, I refused to come with Lord Gloomwood to this world when he asked. To convince me, he offered me a deal.”
“What deal?”
“He said he would make me a lord in his world. He offered me my own manor, staff, everything, in exchange for helping him with a simple magical spell. He said I had a talent he did not. I was sure he was full of it, but I was desperate for coin. I’m not proud of this fact, but back on my world, I’m what you’d consider a peasant. A poor one.”
Most of this was true. He was only going to lie where he needed to. Mixing in truths would make it easier to keep all this straight if he had to repeat it.
“And you believed him?” Westin asked incredulously.
“He said he would prove it. Before we teleported, he performed a ritual with me.”
“A ritual?”
“A ritual in which he officially made me the new Lord Gloomwood.”
Westin’s eyes narrowed. “What ritual was this?”
“Once again I must apologize.” Oh, Drake had this fancy fantasy lingo down now. “I would tell you exactly what occurred, but this would compromise my manor’s security. However, I can say with absolute confidence that the ritual the old lord and I performed in my world is the ritual one Lord Gloomwood uses to pass his title onto another.”
“You are certain of this? You have verified it with your mediator?”
“I have. There can be no mistake. I was lord of my manor before I woke up on that table. Which means the old man performed that forbidden ritual, not Lord Gloomwood.”
While Lydia obviously wasn’t fully on board with his plan, Drake appreciated that she accepted his orders despite her obvious reservations. He knew she was simply looking out for him. He also completely trusted her and the others to keep him safe.
He suspected any Proudglade knight who came after him would get shot by multiple arrows, stabbed with some magic knives, and cut in half by a spectral soul-rending axe before they got anywhere near him. Then probably teabagged by spider tree children.
He looked to his vero and spoke quietly. “As per our sacred pact, I ask you to lead only me forward until we reach the edge of where the knights have made camp. Leave the tunnel open behind me, but stay out of sight. If I say the word ‘Close’ and make a run for it, you are to immediately close the branches between me and the knights.”
The little stick child chittered quietly. Hopefully, that meant it understood all that. He glanced back at his battle maids, at Sachi, and saw all eyes on him. Lydia’s were worried. Emily’s were intrigued. And Sachi’s, well... she still looked like she wanted to eat him.
Ahead of him, branches creaked quietly as the vero moved ahead. Drake walked after it and kept walking until the firelight ahead was so bright he needed to squint his eyes after all the darkness. He could hear low voices talking, and the crackle of firewood.
He spotted a woman in golden armor sitting on a log not far ahead. She had her helmet off and had red hair, like Emily, though she looked to be closer to Zuri’s age than his own. He wasn’t crazy about his people killing a woman, but if she came after him, it’d be her fault.
“Hey, Westin!” Drake shouted as loudly as he could, and he was pleased when his voice boomed through the trees. “You still awake, old chap? We need to talk!”
The redhead sitting on the stump almost fell off it as he called out. She fumbled for her sword and shield before hopping to her feet and glaring into the dark. “Who goes there?”
Behind her, shouts sounded and armor clattered as the rest of the knights came to attention and started getting themselves together. He hoped they were all freaked out right now. Only someone truly reckless or truly powerful would freely approach them like this.
The female knight couldn’t see him, could she? Not with her night vision ruined by the nearby campfire, and with his all but invisible ninja armor cloaking his movements. Drake felt like Batman at the moment, which was a great way to feel.
He strode to the edge of the firelight. The moment the female knight’s eyes snapped to him, he smoothly pulled back his hood to reveal his face. “Remember me?”
The woman glared at him, but she didn’t charge into the dark to chop his head off. With the firelight to illuminate her from behind, he didn’t miss the way her eyes visibly darted left and right. She was worried he had a whole army hidden out in the woods with him. Given how confident he looked right now, who wouldn’t be?
“I’m Lord Gloomwood,” he reminded her. “And you are?”
A bulky male knight also not wearing his helmet stumbled into view beside the woman. He had a pale, puffy face, a round nose, and a thick mustache that looked comically huge. He must oil that thing constantly. He also carried a two-handed pike, which made him Pike Knight.
“Lord Gloomwood!” the pike knight declared pompously. “What treachery is this?”
“No treachery.” Drake approached confidently with his hands raised and in clear view. “I just need to have one last chat with Lord Proudglade before he leaves my realm of hospitality.”
Drake was still doing all he could to sound like an evil fantasy overlord, and he hoped he was doing it right. Maybe he should practice in front of a mirror later. After making sure that absolutely no one, including Lydia, was close enough to see or hear him.
Pike Knight stepped forward and gripped his pike with both hands, pointing the business end at Drake. “Not a step closer, villain, or you will face steel!”
His eyes, too, constantly darted every which way but Drake’s. His confident approach had them freaked. As annoying as having his manor staff terrified of him was, having a reputation as an evil asshole had its perks.
“I haven’t come here to fight,” Drake casually reminded both knights. “We agreed I would offer you safe passage. I’m not here to bury you. I’d simply like to talk to my good friend Westin. Some new facts have come to light.”
Pike Knight huffed. “No one here is any friend of yours, worm of Gloomwood!”
“That’s enough, Orson.” Westin’s clear, confident voice came from behind the two knights. “That is Lord Gloomwood, and you will show him the proper respect.”
Orson glanced back and winced. “But lord—”
“Apologize, Orson. Now.”
Orson looked like he’d just bitten right into a lemon, which pleased Drake immensely. The pike knight turned back and incrementally inclined his eyes. “I apologize for my unkind words, lord. Your unexpected arrival has... unmoored me.”
“This man saved my life this afternoon,” Westin reminded his knights as he walked into view. “I would not be alive but for his heroism, so stand down. Both of you.”
Westin confidently walked out to stand in front of both knights, though he did not leave the light of the campfire. “Lord Gloomwood. What do you need to speak to me about?”
Drake knew he needed to sound like some character in a fantasy story. “New matters have come to light. I’d like to speak with you in private, if you’ll be so kind as to have your knights step aside. I will not harm you, nor will I attempt to abduct you again.” Since he could only tell the truth—supposedly—they should believe him.
Orson scowled. “I do not recommend this.”
Westin raised a hand. “It’s fine, Orson. Take the others and spread out around the firelight. Walk far enough that I and Lord Gloomwood may speak privately beside the fire. You can all keep an eye on me there.”
As Westin calmly instructed his knights, Drake paid attention to his manner. Westin carried himself like a lord. His bearing, his posture, and his speech all suggested he was in complete control of his people, and without a blood pact. His father held that blood pact, not him. Westin commanded his people like Drake did... through loyalty.
“I simply cannot allow this!” Orson protested.
Westin casually glanced his way. “Are you defying me?”
The man visibly blanched, then inclined his head. “Please reconsider.”
Enough already, old man, Drake thought in frustration. You’ve lost. Stuff it.
“I’ll be fine, Orson.” Westin lightly clapped the big knight on the shoulder. “Let’s not keep our guest waiting in the cold any longer.” He looked to Drake. “Lord Gloomwood! Please, join me by our fire. I will not harm you, nor will my knights. That is my order.”
Westin also couldn’t lie, so this was all the reassurance Drake needed. Other than the three murderous women still hidden in the trees. He suspected Lydia was going to have a fit watching him walk into the middle of that camp, but he saw no other way to sell his plan.
He waited until Orson and the other knights grudgingly trudged off in four different directions, then strode forward. He entered the camp and followed Westin to a set of recently split logs that had been arranged as benches. The smell of fresh-cut wood lingered with smoke and ash, so they’d cut these logs recently.
Westin sat on one bench and motioned to the other. “Please, my friend, warm yourself. I’d offer you a meal, but our supper is long consumed.”
Westin really did have medieval talk down, but that made sense because he lived in a medieval fantasy world. Drake would do his best to sound the same.
“No need.” He sat on the log bench and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “None of your knights have a rarity that gives them super hearing, do they?”
“They do not.” Westin couldn’t lie. “And you can call me Westin when we are alone.”
“Then you can call me Clint.”
“So you’ve learned of rarities. You’ve been acclimating yourself to your new role?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of acclimating. However, that’s not why I’m here. You saved my life as much as I saved yours, so I owe you the....” He almost said truth and caught himself. “The real story.”
“You don’t owe me anything! It is you who saved me.”
“You kept me from panicking when I woke up,” Drake said, because You kept me from losing my shit wasn’t very fantasy-like. “You also gave me the clue that let me defeat the former Lord Gloomwood. You reminded me I had his power.”
Westin leaned forward. “So you possess a rarity?”
“I do,” Drake said. “I would share it with you, but doing so would compromise the security of my manor. I trust you plan to share all that happened with your father?”
“I must, and I will note your heroics. I owe you.”
“You do. But Westin, you owe Lord Gloomwood.”
Now Westin’s brow visibly furrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“It was Lord Gloomwood who saved your life. Not Clint Eastwood.”
Westin leaned close. “Surely your manor staff did not confuse you? Your heroics were valiant, but you still bear all the debts of Lord Gloomwood. I will speak on your behalf, but—”
“And the debts owed me,” Drake interrupted.
Westin watched him in obvious confusion. “The debts?”
“This is why I needed to speak with you. You see, Westin, I was already Lord Gloomwood when I arrived in this world. Before I arrived. So in regards to who saved your life? You owe a debt to me, Lord Gloomwood.”
Westin’s eyes widened. “How did you come to be the manor’s lord?”
The man didn’t accuse him of lying. Lying wasn’t possible in this world. Drake was going to exploit that weird ass magical fact for all it was worth.
“I didn’t tell you the deal the former lord made with me, did I?”
Now Westin looked more than a bit uncertain. “You had dealings with the old lord before you arrived in this realm? You acted as if you had no idea what was going on!”
“I deceived you.” He’d thought about this, and while people here couldn’t lie, they could misdirect and omit. “I did not know if I could trust you, and I had to know what you knew. So I feigned ignorance and asked questions so you would confirm what I only suspected.”
Westin’s eyes widened. “That was clever, lord.” He now looked impressed.
“Thanks. Even so, once I knew you were a good man, I felt wrong about deceiving you. Which is why I am here now, to tell you what I did not then.”
“But... why did the old lord pass his blood pact onto you?”
“This happened in my world, Westin. I was in an accident. I know you don’t know what a truck is, so think of a magic carriage that moves without horses. Anyway, I refused to come with Lord Gloomwood to this world when he asked. To convince me, he offered me a deal.”
“What deal?”
“He said he would make me a lord in his world. He offered me my own manor, staff, everything, in exchange for helping him with a simple magical spell. He said I had a talent he did not. I was sure he was full of it, but I was desperate for coin. I’m not proud of this fact, but back on my world, I’m what you’d consider a peasant. A poor one.”
Most of this was true. He was only going to lie where he needed to. Mixing in truths would make it easier to keep all this straight if he had to repeat it.
“And you believed him?” Westin asked incredulously.
“He said he would prove it. Before we teleported, he performed a ritual with me.”
“A ritual?”
“A ritual in which he officially made me the new Lord Gloomwood.”
Westin’s eyes narrowed. “What ritual was this?”
“Once again I must apologize.” Oh, Drake had this fancy fantasy lingo down now. “I would tell you exactly what occurred, but this would compromise my manor’s security. However, I can say with absolute confidence that the ritual the old lord and I performed in my world is the ritual one Lord Gloomwood uses to pass his title onto another.”
“You are certain of this? You have verified it with your mediator?”
“I have. There can be no mistake. I was lord of my manor before I woke up on that table. Which means the old man performed that forbidden ritual, not Lord Gloomwood.”
