Chapter 61. Storm
Centuries before Luminarche was even established as a country, Montague Castle had stood as an impenetrable fortress from which the Montagues ruled. Over the years, Montague Castle had survived countless assaults and catastrophes, including but not limited to multiple wars, high-tier dungeon breaks, and even a tax audit or two. It wasn’t an overexaggeration to say that it was without doubt one of the safest places in the entire country, only surpassed by the Grand Cathedral or the Royal Palace itself.
As such, when Ranger Rodric spotted a figure stumbling down the single street that led up to Montague Castle, he wasn’t worried at all. Instead, he merely chuckled and nudged the Scout next to him. “Hey, looks like we got another lost drunkard on our hands.”
Scout Edwin scowled. “Didn’t we have the city keepers put up some additional signposts just the other month? How do these people keep on taking the wrong turns?”
The two of them were up in the guard tower that rose from the wall that encircled the castle grounds. As the man came closer into view, Rodric gave him a brief cursory scan, just to be safe. Even from this distance, his keen [Ranger’s Sight] was capable of spotting every minute detail, down to the individual specks of dust on the man’s cloak.
It took him only two seconds to disregard the man as a threat; the man was unarmed, walked with a clear stagger that indicated he’d had one too many glasses to drink that night, and had a slumped posture that screamed untrained commoner.
For some reason, upon seeing the castle, the drunk didn’t turn around. Instead, he continued stumbling forward, crossing over the bridge that spanned the ten-meter-wide moat lining the exterior wall. He reached the grand set of massive double gates and was stopped by the five guards manning the entrance.
“Halt!” The head guard commanded. Rodric’s hearing was sharp enough to hear their conversation even from all the way up in the guard tower. “Who goes there?”
“Wuzzah?” the drunk slurred. He swayed in place as he regarded the five guards in front of him. “Why…” He frowned, his face screwing up in an intense rictus of concentration as he struggled to form his words. “Why are there twelve men guarding a single gate? Is this some high-end brothel?” He gave a roguish grin, his eyes unfocused. “‘Cause I swear I won’t steal any of the ladies away. No promises on the men though–”
“You stand at Montague Castle, Seat of His Grace the Duke,” the head guard snapped. “Have some respect!”
The drunk stared at him for a long moment. “Huh. I didn’t know His Grace offered such services…”
Instantly, the guards drew their weapons in unison. The two in the front wielded axes, the two in the back leveled their spears at the drunk. Rodric himself summoned his bow to his hand, nocking an arrow and aiming it at the man. Such insolence had to be punished.
“Scram, you dirty rat,” the head guard growled in disgust from where he was standing in the back. “Consider yourself lucky; on any other day, you’d already be cut down. Fortunately for you, it would be an ill omen to spill blood so soon before the young lord’s joyous wedding.”
The drunk didn’t seem to register the head guard’s words. His head bobbed up and down, and for a second Rodric thought he would fall asleep on the spot.
Then, the drunk reached into his dirtied cloak. Everyone tensed, but then blinked when the man simply drew out a small metal hip flask. He unscrewed the cap, raised it to his lips, and took a long swig–
The wind suddenly shifted, going into an updraft, and Rodric’s eyes widened as an unbelievably strong scent of alcohol hit his nose. By the Goddess, he was at least a hundred meters away! How strong was that drink? No, forget that – how was this man not already in advanced stages of acute liver failure?
“Ah, that hits the spot,” the drunk said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand as he put his hip flask away.
Oddly, he seemed to be more cogent now, his eyes more focused than before. Rodric stared at him uncomprehendingly. Had the alcohol somehow sobered the man up instead of intoxicating him even more? Was that even possible?
“Joyous wedding…” the man tapped his chin. “Right, that’s why I’m here. How did it go again? Ah, yes. I’ve always wanted to say this. I realize I may be a bit early, but…” He grinned, and despite his slovenly appearance, Rodric felt a chill run down his spine at the sudden look in the man’s eyes. “I object!”
There was a long moment of silence as the implication of his words sank in.
“May the young lord forgive me,” the head guard said, his voice trembling with anger, “but given the circumstances, I think he’ll understand. Perhaps even give me a promotion.”
With that, he formed a signal with his hand. Attack to kill.
Immediately, the guards down on the ground surged forward as Rodric shot the arrow at the man’s head–
He blinked as his arrow clattered to the ground by his feet instead.
Wait. What?
He turned to look at his bow, and blinked again when he saw that his bowstring had been severed down the middle–
“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too expensive,” the drunk said from next to him, sheathing his sword. Down below, the four guards collapsed to the ground.
Rodric and Edwin immediately both cursed in panic. Rodric tried to lash out with his bow, and suddenly found himself plummeting down to the ground headfirst, the man having unceremoniously tossed him out of the tower like he was some stray. He righted himself midair and landed in a low crouch. Edwin dropped like a sack of potatoes next to him a moment later, groaning in pain.
Off in the distance, the alarm bells began to ring, a low sonorous sound that echoed throughout the entire castle grounds.
The drunk, who wasn’t even drunk anymore, lightly hopped to the ground next to them like he was stepping down from a horse instead of falling thirty meters. The dirt around him wasn’t even disturbed.
“You must be mad!” the head guard yelled, though this time it was with more fear than outrage. “You’re attacking Montague Castle? Have you lost your mind?”
Rodric echoed his sentiments wholeheartedly.
Located atop a hill on the outskirts of Lancaster, Montague Castle enjoyed privacy from the general populace, a geographically-defensible vantage point, and an incredible supply of mana that came from resting directly above a magical leyline node. The vast majority of the mana went into powering the ancestral defensive wards that enveloped the entire castle grounds: three invisible concentric domes that hadn’t once been broken in over six hundred years.
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On top of that, a massive stone wall reinforced by cold iron, silver, and mithril encircled the entire perimeter. The front gates were the only area left uncovered by the wards to allow smooth entry and exit. Any invader who wished to attack the castle had to pass through them; it formed a natural chokepoint that allowed the guards to fend off numbers ten times greater than theirs.
Indeed, the myriad of defenses that protected the castle was beyond staggering. One might even call it overkill were it not for the equal myriad of enemies that House Montague somehow seemed to always find themselves garnering every generation. As it was, Montague Castle was effectively impregnable; these days, only a true lunatic with zero sense would dare attack it.
Around them, dozens of guards were already rushing to the scene, summoned by the ringing of the bell. Most of them were mithril-tier, some even being orichalcum-tier. Montague Castle had several adamantine-tier guards as well in employment, but those were all within the castle itself. Rodric and Edwin rushed to rejoin the ranks, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.
The man waited for the guards to get into position with an easy smile on his face, his hands inside his cloak pockets as he slouched in place almost lazily. Within twenty seconds, the guards had fully surrounded the man. Knights, warriors, and lancers in the front, mages and rangers in the back.
Then, the man finally spoke.
“Who, me?” he said. “Nah, this isn’t an attack. Right now, I’m just here to act as a herald, if you will.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the thunder of the vanguard, after all.”
“Vanguard?” the Guard Captain demanded, striding forward. “What are you talking about? Where is the vanguard? Who are you–”
He was cut off as the man held up a single finger. “Shush,” the man said. “Have some patience, will you? He’s already on the way.”
As one, the guards turned to look through the massive double gates. Nobody else was approaching the castle.
“Is he now?” the Guard Captain said dubiously. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Oh, he’s not on foot,” the man said. He pointed upward into the sky. “He’s coming in through up there.”
They all stared at him for a moment.
Then, the Guard Captain laughed uproariously, the men around him joining in. “Are you a fool? Have you never heard of Montague Castle’s ancestral wards? The only way in and out is through the front gates. Not even a Mythmaker would be able to break through the barriers.”
“Yeah?” the man raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Here, watch this.”
Slowly, he raised his hand to head level. The men all watched him closely, curious despite themselves.
Then he snapped his fingers.
The sky shattered.
Rodric’s eyes grew impossibly wide. Normally, the three barriers were invisible, but right now, the outermost dome had become visible – and was clearly broken. He stared up at the jagged magical barrier, unable to fathom what he was witnessing.
This time, since he was actively looking up unblinking at the sky, his [Ranger’s Sight] pushed to its limits, he was able to see the second attack. An incredibly massive arc of magic, nearly invisible save for how it distorted the air around it, slammed into the second barrier. It shattered as well. Rodric hadn’t even seen where the attack came from.
Beneath them, the ground trembled and shook as the leyline suddenly went into overdrive, the wards desperately sucking up as much mana as they could and then some more to reinforce the final ward. In less than a second, the barrier was so laden with mana that it was visible to the naked eye. An audible thrum of power sounded through the air, and even though he didn’t know anything about magic, Rodric felt himself becoming automatically bolstered by a sense of certain reassurance.
The final ward was the oldest and by far the strongest one. Six centuries of accumulated, aged mana… There was no way anything could break through. The barrier stood proud and visible, almost as if daring the unknown attacker to attack.
And they did.
The sky collapsed as the final barrier was shattered like glass.
Millions of mana shards fluttered to the ground, dissipating as they did.
“WHAT?” the Guard Captain cried, all dignity and decorum gone as he gape mouth hanging open at the scene in front of him. “HOW?!”
Rodric didn’t begrudge him. He was internally reacting much the same.
Above them, the bells stopped ringing as well; the watchman too must be staring slack-jawed at the impossible display. After several seconds, it suddenly picked up again, this time much more frantic and irregular than before.
Then, Rodric caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. High above in the sky, he saw something streaking through the air. It was just a speck at first, but it grew larger and larger as it dropped from the heavens and hurtled toward the ground below, completely unimpeded by the now-defunct barriers
Right toward them.
Artillery assault?! Oh no, without the wards—
Before anyone could react, the thing crashed into the ground right next to the man. The man didn’t even flinch as a cloud of dust was flung upward, the impact sending a shockwave rippling outward. Slowly, the dust cleared to reveal what had just dropped from the sky.
As it turned out, it wasn’t a thing.
“What-ho!” the newcomer cried out, stepping out from the small crater. He casually brushed himself off, seemingly uninjured by the fall, and regarded the guards around them. He wore an opera mask that obscured his upper face, though his thick bushy mustache was left exposed. His hair, a bright bold color, was obviously a dyed wig of some sort. He would’ve looked ludicrous if it weren’t for the waves of power emanating from his form. “What a grand reception this is! All of you were waiting for dear ol’ me?” He sniffled. “Why, this brings a tear to my eye.”
The Guard Captain finally managed to recover his composure, a testament to his professionalism. “That’s it?” he spat. “No other reinforcements? Just the two of you think you can attack Montague Castle and get away with it? You may have been able to break the barriers through some cheat technique, but what of it?” Already, more guards were streaming out from the castle behind them. He continued angrily. “Have you no sense of judgement, no sense of self-preservation?”
“Hah!” the newcomer barked out a laugh. “Speak not to me of self-preservation; I know more of it than you ever could. As a matter of fact…” He gave them a grin that somehow had a jolly air to it, even as he summoned an oversized stone axe to his hand. “Do allow me to teach you the importance of the basics.”
In her room, Liliya jolted awake at the sound of angrily ringing bells. She quickly got up from bed and strode over to the window. She couldn’t really see much from her current angle, but she could hear the sounds of battle off in the distance.
Attackers? Right now?
…
A sinking feeling began forming in her stomach.
It couldn’t possibly be him, right? He had let her go that day, after all.
But the timing…
No, it had to be a coincidence. Probably one of Montague’s many enemies rearing their heads.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at her door.
“Not now,” she called. It was probably her maids wanting to make sure that she was alright–
Behind her, the door unlocked and opened.
Despite herself, Liliya instinctively let out a small flinch of fear. Neither the maids nor the Royal Sentinels would have dared enter her room without express permission. The only person in the entire castle who would was Theodore Montague. Him forcing himself into her room didn’t bode well for her.
She steeled herself, fighting to keep her worry contained, and turned around–
And she came face-to-face with Levi Ironwood.
Liliya froze.
Immediately, she could tell that he looked… different.
Levi looked lighter. Ever since Liliya had gotten to know him, it had seemed as though there was always an unbearable weight crushing down on him. He didn’t seem to be aware of it, but it seeped into his words and actions from time to time. She’d first noticed it back in the village of Copperton and had seen it several times since.
But now…
It was completely gone. Levi no longer looked as pained or weary. He seemed to be more at peace with himself. Sure of himself. It was perplexing; Liliya had only been gone for three days. How had such a drastic change come over him?
More importantly, what was he doing here?!
And Levi smiled at her.
“Hey, Liliya. Do forgive the sudden intrusion, but there’s been a slight change in plans. Let’s get out of here, shall we?”
She stared at him, for once unsure of how to respond.