Bog Standard Isekai

Lyssa prepared what she hoped was a meal fit for a king. She didn’t have any Skills around cooking, not even the General Skill. Instead, she’d been bothering the camp's cooks incessantly for the past several weeks, begging whatever guidance they could as they tried to stretch the measly remnants of their food supplies to feed a starving army. It had to be her, of course, since she couldn’t trust anyone else with this prisoner, but that didn’t make it any easier. She had to swallow often as she was unable to keep her mouth from watering as she worked. This was more food than she’d eat in three days now that rations were being enforced.

The first dish was made of shredded fish, stale bread and bitter greens, but rather than all mixed together in a bowl like she was used to, this was to all be kept separate on a plate. Her guest insisted that this was the way it was done in high society and she wasn’t about to argue with him. Despite the stone walls of his accommodations or the blacksteel shackles that he wore, she really hoped to please him this time.

Even imprisoned, Johan Henrique II was [King] of Prinnash, and deserved to be treated as such.

“Release me at once,” he commanded.

Lyssa grit her teeth against the wave of desire to do just that. She had earned a few Achievements that helped with mental resistance and she was employing all the concentration tricks she knew, but it still got more difficult every day. That was one of the dangers of the [King] Class. If you ever told them “No”, it would be more difficult the next time.

“No, Your Majesty,” said Lyssa.

At no time during his imprisonment had Johan attempted to overpower her physically. [King] wasn’t a combat Class, despite how many tried to pretend it was. It was naive to assume that the person ruling the country was the strongest warrior in the country. No, Johan could help the grass grow, he could make it more likely that people who lost their favorite earrings would find them again, give weight to those carrying out justice in his courts, and improve the nation in a hundred other little ways, but he wouldn’t ever beat Lyssa in a fight. He was terrifyingly dangerous, but those shackles were more than enough to hold him.

[King] Johan answered her refusal with a dismissive wave, as if it were completely in his power to insist but he was only letting it slide out of beneficence. “You know, I’ve never seen someone prepare a meal with quite so much viciousness. You tear that bread as if it has personally vexed you.”

“As you say, Your Majesty,” answered Lyssa. It wasn’t worth it to correct him, but that’s just how her face was. Everyone saw simmering resentment in her expression, which was good because if they could really look inside her mind all they would see is fear. Fear that it was all going to break apart again, fear that everyone she still cared about would die the moment her eyes weren’t on them. Fear especially of this man, of the things he would do to her if she ever again found herself under his power. Despite his calm politeness now, he would destroy her if he could. He would melt her skin with flame, healing potions in her belly to make the torment last longer. If he learned about what Galan could do, he would use it to prolong his suffering as well. He’d be poisoned, his limbs separated from his body, and then…

She shook her head against the thoughts. Her constant, aching fear was a benefit in some ways. It was what kept her from going complacent, kept her thinking of all the things that could go wrong and making plans upon plans to mitigate every possible threat. But it could also overwhelm her with endless spiraling thoughts unless she forced herself to break out of it.

She broke the stale bread apart by hand–stale, not fresh and not toasted. He insisted that this was the correct way to make it.

[King] Johan wouldn’t ask her to free him again, not twice in the same day. Instead, he made a different request. “Don’t I remember your engagement to a certain Lord of Fretas? Tell me, whatever happened to young Brenhold?”

He liked her to speak while she worked, because he seemed to think silence from her was awkward. Refusing to speak wasn’t worth the cost of another refusal, and besides, she was more than happy to oblige. Blathering away helped distract her from the abject terror of being in his presence. Only a fool jails a [King] lightly.

“After our first meeting, on our System Day, I was disgusted with Brenhold. I spent my entire life learning about what a true man of Prinnash looks like. My mother had very strong ideals and my father and my brothers lived up to them in every aspect. Brenhold did not. What was I to make of a short, thin boy who… who sang. He was singing all the time, and he would bend over to pluck the flowers on the side of the road, and he traced the words of the poets in his little book over and over again just to try to get the tiniest glimpse of what it must have been like to pen those words.”

“I gathered as much. Your engagement to the Freitas boy is doubtless the seed of your discontent.”

“In this and all other things you are correct, Your Majesty, but perhaps not in the way you think,” said Lyssa, carefully avoiding a negation. “You know, I used to daydream that a big strong [Knight] would come and kill Breno and take me away as his prize.”

“A prophetic daydream,” he said.

“Indeed, and yet there are few worse things that can happen to a teenaged girl than to have her dreams come true,” said Lyssa. “As the date of our engagement drew closer, I began to see Brenhold in a different way. I was good enough with the sword for both of us, or so I thought, so why did it matter if he didn’t apply himself to such things? He could be smooth where I was rough. We complemented each other. And if that big strong [Knight] from my daydreams came to call on Brenhold, I would face him instead. Such were my thoughts when Sir Pryderi slew Lord Brenhold. I was out of town, shopping.”

She finished preparing the meal. The mixed plate, and also fruit, nuts, spiced milk and a bottle of wine. She set it all on a tray and then brought it over to set it on the [King’s] table. All furniture in this chamber was as lavish as they could make it, which was quite fine indeed. They didn’t lack for any kind of riches, save one. The food on the tray was the only real treasure here.

[King] Johan leaned forward with interest, his genteel manners ensuring that the links on his shackles didn’t so much as click. Only, he ignored the food and focused his interest on her.

“If those were your feelings, how odd that you were so quickly wed to Sir Pryderi.”

Lyssa shrugged. “Prinnashians follow the strong. My family was quite taken with Sir Pryderi, my mother especially. I hardly considered my own feelings at all; I don’t think it occurred to me that I should have an opinion. Besides, what else was I to do? This seemed the exact copy of all the great romances. I married Pryderi in the dress I bought for Brenhold, days after my return from the shopping trip.” Before he could ask her to continue the story, she hastened to add, “How do you find your supper, Your Majesty?”

He inspected it. “There was insufficient care in the preparation of the bread. We are accustomed to more uniform crumbles.”

She nodded seriously. She wouldn’t take offense to the criticism. A [King] had to have an opinion on every subject, and would always believe his opinions should be taken seriously. Besides, such a small complaint from his lips were akin to the highest praise from any other.

He studied the meal a little longer in resolute silence, and Lyssa thought she could detect a small hint of longing in his eyes. Then he nudged the tray aside.

She wasn’t surprised. They’d played out this little mummery more than a dozen times now. He would not eat while his men went hungry.

She took the tray away again, to another room where neither of them would have to look at it. None of it would go to waste, of course. In present circumstances, every crumb was accounted for.

“I am most interested, Lady Lyssa. It’s so rare that I am treated to such a candid retelling of the life of a member of the fairer sex,” said the [King].

Lyssa prided herself on her sharp wit and her direct speech, but it wasn’t an easy thing to tell a [King] that he was full of it. She found herself dancing around a full contradiction. “How can this be? In my experience, members of my sex are often more than delighted to drone on about even the most mundane details of their lives.”

“Perhaps, but men and women alike are prone to tell a [King] the version of events they believe we want to hear, rather than the unvarnished truth. We should have your opinion on Sir Pyderi next.”

She knew what he was doing. He was establishing a dialogue and making himself sympathetic in the hopes that she would hesitate when the time came for her to kill him. He was also getting her to open up and reveal information about herself in the hopes that some small detail she let slip would give him a lever against her. She wanted to say no, but she needed to save those up for when she really needed them.. There were a lot more dangerous topics he could be asking her about. She suppressed a sigh.

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“My marriage with Sir Pryderi was tense and fraught with difficulty. He held a very traditional household, and I was expected to conform to norms that I was not accustomed to. I often clashed with both him and his mother, who sought to treat me like a clumsy and unwelcome servant.”

“It’s these damn [Merchant] lords! They know they’ve upset the natural order! They lack so little for tradition, honor, and valor that they work ten times as hard to maintain the appearance of it.”

Lyssa nodded. “I cannot disagree. Near the end of our second year, though, we began to come to something of an understanding. I followed him to the Ollandish border, and outside of the pressure of his entire household we both became much more agreeable. I even began to consider bearing him a child,” said Lyssa.

“Which is when your brother killed him,” said the [King].

“So you’re at least a bit familiar with my story,” said Lyssa.

“Only a bit,” said the [King]. “But please continue. What did you do then?”

“I did as I always do, and followed the strong. I returned to my brother’s house and managed our affairs. I evolved my Class away from pure combat and took something more organizational. I was happy at first, thinking that now that my brother was running the house after my father’s death and my mother’s suicide–”

[King] Johan shook his head ruefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a more sorrowful life of tragedy.”

“I’m sure that I’ve heard of quite a few,” said Lyssa. She winced as that came rather too close to outright arguing with the [King], but she was surprised, was all. Compared to the lives of most of the people she knew, her situation was rather fortunate, wasn’t it?

“Ah, but I’ve interrupted you. Do continue.”

She shook her head, flustered. “I don’t think there’s much else to tell. I was pleased at first, thinking that he had rescued me, but over time I came to realize the truth. The total scorn that Pryderi’s house had for me was lacking here, but there was no affection in its place. Only apathy. Emul didn’t care for me. I think he just wanted someone who remembered where the city planning forms are kept. That’s the state of our fair country, is it not? If my neighbor wants my sheep and he has the power he can come and take them, slaughtering my servants and burning down the sheepfold. But if I try to repair it again, I need to submit an application to two different offices, paying a fee for each one.”

“If my people gave me even half the fealty I deserve, I would dismiss the Council this very hour. Then you would see a prosperity and freedom that Prinnash has not seen since its golden years,” said [King] Johan. “So this is why you betray me? Because of the lawlessness of Prinnashians [Merchant] Lords, you betray your nation in favor of Olland?”

“You do me too much credit,” said Lyssa. “I have no noble goals or ideas of revolution; I'm much simpler than that. I am a true woman of Prinnash. I follow the strong. And there’s no one stronger than Galan.”

“I might name a score of men who could best him,” said the [King].

She was glad to see that knowledge of Galan’s invincibility hadn’t made its way to [King] Johan. She’d done her best to keep that little nugget contained. “You don’t understand. He’s sweeter than Brenhold was. He’s fiercer than Pryderi, and stronger than Emul. He’s a true man, maybe the only one I’ve ever met.”

[King] Johan eyed her knowingly. “I see.”

She shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, yes it is. And I don’t like it. It’s no good for two people as much in love as you to remain as you are. You should be married at once. Call Sir Galan here and I will do it myself. Captive as I am, this is a right that is still afforded me.”

Lyssa blushed, and then embarrassment at being so easily read made her darken further. “It’s no use denying. I would like that very much.” It couldn’t happen, of course. If Galan knew she’d kidnapped the [King] of Prinnash, he’d be outraged. He might even dismiss her from his service. “If Galan desired such a thing he would have moved by now. I’ve made it quite clear that I am ready to receive his advances, and yet none have come.”

[King] Johan snorted in amusement. “These Ollanders don’t think the same as you and I. There’s a perversion in their idea of chivalry that keeps them from claiming what they’ve earned. He likely thinks that marrying you after killing your brother would do you an insult, or some such nonsense.”

Lyssa shook her head. “That can’t be right.” The [King] Class hammered against her mind; that had been too strong of an argument, but she was too distracted by the implications to care much. Did he have a point? She hadn’t talked about this to anyone else. Who could she talk to?

“It is right. You must kiss him first,” he declared.

“I couldn’t!” Lyssa said automatically, and the [King] Class punished her for it again. “I will,” she announced, and the pressure against her mind subsided. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. If you ever said “Yes” to a [King], the next time it would be easier.

There was a knock at the door. Much of the tension in Lyssa’s chest eased, to be replaced by a different sort of tension. The [King] wouldn’t have any more time to wear her down, because one way or another, this would be over soon.

She opened the door, and an [Illusionist] was waiting for her. He had a blindfold over his eyes and wax plugged his ears. Not that either of those things could block an [Illusionist’s] sense if he didn’t want them to, but this man wanted them to. He wouldn’t want to see who was in here or hear the conversation they were about to have.

He didn’t speak either. The fact that he was here and ready was the only message that he needed to give her. It meant that Lumina was in place, and he was ready to cast the spell that would connect them.

She led him back into the gilded cage with [King] Johan, and tapped his hand to indicate that he should begin.

There was no outward sign that the [Illusionist] had begun casting his spell. She didn’t have the magical senses to tell what the [Illusionist] was doing, but she had enough sensitivity to tell that it was a working of tremendous power.

She expected a portal, a thin veil of glass separating her and the one she meant to speak to on the other side. She assumed there would be distortions of light or sound, that she might have to yell at the other party as if at someone far away.

Instead, a Mirror Image appeared. An old man sitting on a desk chair, likely at the writing desk in his office.

But the old man himself was far from ordinary. He was the [King] of Theranor.

She and Lumina had worked this entire scheme out before the [Archmage] had left. The only way they could win this war was if they tore down the barrier around the capital. The only person to do that was Lothar, and the only person who could order Lothar to do it was [King] Theranor. It was all quite simple, once she decided what her priorities were.

Lyssa had only three priorities. She’d protect Galan, pursue his goals, and keep herself near him. In that order. Once that was settled, everything else was just details. If Galan wanted to win this war, then Lyssa would take care of the details.

Lumina herself wasn’t in view, but she would definitely be there. No doubt she’d brought another [Illusionist] along with her, but it was her name and power that would’ve opened the door to this audience.

Glydware, the [King] of Theranor was old, and he looked it. His skin drooped so much that the bags under his eyes could’ve held oranges. The eyes themselves were dull and lifeless; she might expect that he was already completely senile if he didn’t have a reputation for keen wit.

“Johan, cousin,” he said by way of greeting.

“Your Majesty,” [King] Johan answered back.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lyssa answered by placing a very sharp shortsword at Johan’s neck.

There was no change in the [King] of Theranor’s expression or in his dull eyes, as if reacting to things were too tiring for a man of his age. “What do you want?”

“Order Lothar to join our war against Arcaena,” said Lyssa.

“I’m afraid that’s completely out of the question. Sir Lothar vehemently opposes the war in Arcaena. He only swore to me because he trusts me, because I assured him that I would never give him cause to regret it. How could I betray his trust in such a way? No, as much as it pains me to see you in such a state, cousin, I simply could never.”

Disappointing, but Lyssa had expected that. Glyndware wasn’t the one with a sword to his throat.

“I know you’ve always coveted the Southern Steppe. It’s yours,” said Johan.

“No, no, I couldn’t ask for that, and I couldn’t hold it. If my great people had an army that could be spared, it would be there with you, would it not?”

Actually, Theranor had a grand army. They had a small population, but they’d managed to reactivate some of old Nhamanshal’s Manufactoriums, and had thousands of battle golems at the ready. Should the other three nations lose their fighting men in Arcaena, Theranor stood ready to conquer far and wide.

“Surely, an arrangement between my son and the daughter of–”

“No,” Glyndware waved dismissively. He thought for a moment stroking his beard. “No, I simply cannot think of a way to settle this. But I’ll warn you, young lady. I might not feel comfortable having Lothar join the war, but I am more than ready to order him to kill you, should you–”

“Whatever gets him here,” she answered. Then she pulled the sword back and slit the throat of the [King] of Prinnash.

She called his bluff. As long as Lothar entered the warcamps, they’d find some way to draw him into the conflict. She could work with that.

Still, she bet that Glyndware would still save Johan. Theranor was in a great position if the allies lost this war, but if they succeeded here without him it would be a disaster for Theranor. He’d need to send Lothar if he wanted a slice of the pie.

She’d made sure to cut a thin slice, nicking only one artery, so it would take a few minutes for the man to bleed out past the point where he could be saved. A ticking clock to keep negotiations from dragging on overlong.

“Why?” Johan gasped. “I am your [King]! And… I thought… so easily, you…”

“Yes,” she answered. “I’ve enjoyed our little chats. But now I need to kill you, and what does one thing have to do with another? As for my loyalty, well, it’s because I’m Prinnashian that I do this.”

“B… b…”

“Yes. Brenhold. You arranged our marriage yourself, and then Pryderi cancelled it and you did nothing. You should have had him hung, but instead, not a word.”

“I…”

“You couldn’t punish him. You don’t have the authority. I know. You’ve made the only mistake I cannot forgive. You’re too weak.”

“Theres a small settlement growing right on the border where the southern army first entered. They call it Witchtown. You will give me that,” said Glyndware.

“Done,” gasped Johan.

Lyssa nodded, impressed at the wisdom of the request. It wasn’t a very juicy prize, but it had the advantage of being one of the few things that Johan could actually guarantee.

“I want the jewels of Ordos,” said Glyndware.

“Done,” said Johan. He held both hands to his throat, attempting to slow the flow of blood.

“Your son will study in Theranor. For five years. I want the sword that slays Arcaena, should it be a Prinnashian that fells her. I want mining rights for a research encampment to a location in Prinnash that I will later reveal.”

The blood was flowing more weakly now. Johan nodded.

“Very well. I will compel Lothar. But I will keep this connection open to ensure my cousin survives. Otherwise, young lady, you should prepare to die with him.”

In one quick motion, Lyssa tossed Johan a clotting potion and then she was out the door to call for a healer. No doubt, Johan would eventually escape this prison, or someone would find out and let Galan know. Those were all worries for a different time. She had a million preparations to make, and no time to waste. Lothar’s aid was secured. The Great War of Arcaena was entering its final battle.