The Power of Ten: Sama Rantha 167 Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Seven - A Knight Errant, Part II

Certainly, Errant had proven himself more than worthy of deserving more attention in the future. Alas, that was not going to go well.

Hs father rose from behind his desk as Errant came in. "Father," Errant said crisply, standing to attention properly. No need to deviate from established protocols.

"Errant, my son." Errant could not recall ever being addressed that way. Being claimed and acknowledged. Interesting experience.

"I've come with the skull of the Stormcrone Zouma. I would like to take possession of the reward that was offered for her death." It was a sum worthy of the death of something like her, and he definitely needed it for proper Gearing out. That he was being somewhat crass by coming straight to the point didn't escape his father, who narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Sit." Errant did so, after pulling out a cloth bag, and dumping the skull with the animated hair into it.

"Sir, I strongly, strongly, strongly recommend that you reduce that skull to ash as soon as possible. Zouma was working with at least three other Hags, who may take it upon themselves to regain her skull, either to plumb for knowledge or to aid in her resurrection or transformation into a vengeful spirit, a witchfire. If what you have seen is sufficient, I can reduce her to ash right now."

His father regarded him for a long moment, then glanced at the twitching hairs still drifting up out of the bag. "Dispose of her, then."

Errant pulled out Grace, now in poniard form, and simply stuck the head through the skull, vivic flames igniting on it promptly. Without another word, he threw head and sack into the nearby fireplace, where unwhite flames began to mist over it.

"An extraordinary deed, my son. Did you have help?" his father asked probingly.

"No. Some luck, perhaps, but no help."

"Difficult?"

"Proper planning, execution, and use of terrain, more than anything."

"You were gone for some time, Errant, without telling anyone where you were going."

"Operational security over matters like this is a must, father. I didn't need our enemies knowing I was gone, or where I was gone, and Zouma was doubtless paying attention to the family, too. The fewer who knew, the better, and I decided that the optimal number was exactly one."

"Mmm." His father sat back, staring at him, as if he were an entirely new being. "An extraordinary feat, to accomplish by one's self. And with no help?"

"None whatsoever," Errant repeated fearlessly. "Check as you like, I was alone. There might be some minions on the mountain who saw me there by myself, but that might take a bit of effort."

His father tapped his cheek, trying to see through him and failing. "You did all this... for the reward?" he asked, darting a glance at the disintegrating head.

"My moderate allowance has been rather insufficient towards assembling a proper array of equipment. The sum will prove beneficial in forwarding my plans. As you have doubtless already written it off, it should not require any changes to existing cash flows for the household."

"And... that is all you are asking for?" his father asked seriously.

"Well, a letter of commendation. I am going to be joining a Knightly Order soon. I understand that I am unsuitable to join the household's forces, but I am certain my skills will be appreciated elsewhere."

His father's eyes narrowed. "Do not be insolent, boy," he stated calmly. "The killing of the Stormcrone is a great feat, yes, but it does not give you that right."

"Every single member of the household knights is trained in the Damnation Heart. This is a fact and an inviolate rule. I do not train the Damnation Heart and am incapable of doing so. Ergo, I am unsuitable to join the household's forces, as I simply do not intend to serve as a footman... or perhaps you think the son of a Duke should be made an eternal squire?" Errant went on, his eyes and voice completely unmoved by the warning.

"There are other capacities in which you might serve the family," his father stated crisply. "Indeed, you would excel in them!"

"If they require being subservient to my brothers, I'm afraid that they will quickly agree that I am unsuitable for such things. And if there is no road to sitting upon the seat of the family, then my path leads elsewhere," he stated frankly, keeping his father's dark stare without effort. "As the head of the family has always been a Chi-user or Caster, there is no road. My ambitions are taking me elsewhere."

His father sat back, a brooding expression on his face. He had discovered that this son of his was a shining jewel... but no jewel could shine in the Gilderalz family, where Hell had its sway.

By the laws of the family, he could not even confer a knighthood onto his own son, even after the killing of Zouma. Telling his son to give up on such an ambition was foolish, he could see at a glance it would not work... and would sort of knight aspirant would stoop to being a dark hand and assassin of the family, especially when his rivalry with his Powered siblings was so apparent?

It simply wasn't going to happen, regardless of what he ordered. His son definitely had the gifts, and had proved it by slaying Zouma alone, but it seemed those gifts would not be put to use in service to the family.

Yes, an uncomfortable feeling.

"Where are you thinking of submitting your service to?" he asked calmly.

"There are six different Orders I would be pleased to serve with, I will simply visit them in order, and go with who accepts me. A general letter would be best," Errant replied calmly.

His father regarded him for a moment longer, and then slid open a drawer to take out a sheet of the crisp, embroidered official paper of the Duchy, bearing the seal of the family. He plucked up the fountain pen waiting on his desk, and with cold, bold strokes, began to write.

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Errant put the sealed letter away, not having bothered to read it. It was there for show, more than anything. The places he wanted to go to, the seal of the Duke of Gulder was truthfully not valuable at all. It would be only there to show an amicable parting.

It was time to get his Warlock Scepter made and enhanced, and to dispose of his other earnings. He'd burned much of them at night, if it was precious materials or power comps, but there were still some interesting items the Hag had cached up in her cave which some end-users would be happy to pay him for, and he would be happy to reduce their wealth in exchange.

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The next two months went by with some monotony. He was not at the dinner table, and his family barely saw him at all. Thirty thousand gold was sixty days worth of Infusing, and he was quite determined to clear his wealth away and put it into his Gear. Thus, he basically spent most of the day Infusing, and the rest of the time working out or studying. Interactions with the family and its retainers were short and to the point... while he need not act against them, he was cutting his ties and removing himself from their lives.

He was also very curious about how to get to Sustained status. The simple level of not needing to eat or drink would be extremely useful, let alone the additional hours per day. Alas, Hazé did not know.

He had the feeling it had something to do with his Vajra, as the reduction in need for food or drink was basically a lead-in for being Sustained. It meant he had to upgrade his Vajra, which meant his ki and Essence. He had been entirely focused on paying off his Karmic Debt and regaining full control of his Warlock Pact abilities, so he hadn't set any attention towards that end, and still hadn't come close to doing so now.

But that was fine. Eventually, he would, and as long as he didn't die in service, he definitely had time.

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"Master Phlenigos, Hanz. You and your toadies can come out now."

His exit from family and home had been understated: a packed bag, traveling clothes, spare change. His wealth was basically being worn now, which didn't make him less of a target... but brigands jumping him was something he looked forwards to.

There was some hesitation in the shadows, wondering how they were detected. But then the air shimmered, and the Hellbound adviser and his father's pet Illrigger came stepping out. Four of the family knights that he knew to have more fanatical leanings joined them, as well as a scaled red diabolic creature with vaguely draconian features, bat wings, claws, talons, fangs, lashing tail, hellfire eyes, and so forth, stepping forth behind the Warlock.

Estemar found himself smiling in satisfaction. He reached into the Masspurse at his side easily, brought out a Baneskull, and fit it over the pommel of Grace. The chiterai's insectoid skull still served perfectly for Evilborn, and that included devils. The temples in town had interesting things keeping watch in their dungeons...

The knights slowly spread out around him, wielding a spiked mace, flail, greatsword, and halberd respectively; all Dire Weapons in the Hell Pattern, too many barbs and spikes to actually work, yet they did. Every little thing...

"Ah, young master Estemar. Truly, your senses are keener than I expected," the Tyrantbound Warlock smiled, as if they were strolling together in the sun, and not setting an ambush. "On a professional basis, how did you know we were here?"

"Oh, this is the only convenient spot for an ambush within the first five miles out of town. I made sure your man Henrik there saw me packing last night, and Jils there saw me heading out this morning. As I left on foot, you naturally could use horses to get ahead of me, and Timoth there watched me leave through the gate."

The confident smile on the Hellbound's face fell, and Hanz' emotionless eyes flashed. Even the knights looked at one another in surprise.

"You expected us to be here. How... surprising."

"Well, you're not nearly as clever or subtle as you think you are. Hanz there has been following me around for months, your agents have been talking to people I know in town, and you've searched my room at least four times." The Heavens were softly singing behind his ear, any fear or nervousness that should be manifest was firmly held at bay. He had been looking forwards to this for some time.

The Warlock inhaled, glancing at the devil over his shoulder, who simply looked back at him. "Well, aren't you a clever young man," the Warlock murmured, almost to himself. "You do seem to have hidden yourself well. Right in the middle of a family known for their devotion to Huul."

"More like run off into the corner and left there, but whatever, sir," Errant glanced at Hanz. "I trust this is a matter of faith, and my father is not behind this?"

His father's pet dark hand narrowed his eyes. "That is correct. We will simply arrange matters for rivals to have ambushed you between here and the capital. A simple task."

"I see. On the other hand, I do recall you having to swear an oath to never turn your blade against the family." The unholy knight blinked in surprise. "Thus, you have shown your true loyalty, and have rebelled against the family. On my father's behalf, I will expunge you all, and I will definitely write all the details out and send him a truthful letter explaining it."

He still hadn't drawn his Sword, but that was fine.

They all looked at one another as if he were daft, of course, but his uncompromising expression caused the first few layers of doubt to blossom.

"Do you know why we are doing this, young master?" Master Phlenigos asked, eyes flickering. This was not going properly. If his suspicions were wrong, they could have just let him go. It would be an easy enough test, after all. But this was going poorly, as if what they suspected was true... and yet, such confidence?

"I imagine on the behest of Guildmaster Kupholos, who has been severely upset with me for some time," Erant said promptly, still undeterred. The knights were slowly edging in, but he was still relaxed, eyes not moving. Sharp eyes might see the dirt around his feet was starting to ripple, however.

"You have been seen associating with Amanans. It has been very suspicious. Things purchased by them on your behalf, accidents befalling those who discriminate against them..."

"Oh, that. Well, sure. Like I said, Kupholos has been trying to extort them for years. Given he's a Mammite and all..." Errant spit off to the side. "I imagine him getting a Nessian to deal with a blood of the family is causing him all sorts of jollies. He wouldn't dare do it himself, of course..."

"Enough! You have sworn yourself to enemy powers, and you will die here!" snarled the scholar, upset about how Errant was sowing doubt. His Scorn came up, and he blew hellfire at the youngest son of his liege.

And then he was dead.

Errant let his Wrath billow up, used the Whim. Crossing the Light, able to warp from area to area of light, coupled with Quicken Spell-Like Ability. After so many years, his Aura of Menace finally billowed up, letting them know that a servant of Heaven was here to judge them, and woe, woe to the guilty!

In the same motion he drew Grace, and took Phlenigos' head, continuing the Cleave to drive Grace deep into Hanz' side through the chain links covering the gaps in his plate armor. His father's dark hand cried out as Wrath boiled inside him, stepped back as Errant stepped in, extended, and the Illrigger's armored solleret hit Errant's heel, caught and overbalanced, and the hellknight began to fall.

Errant pivoted as he came down, blocking the sweeping sword with his free hand, bulling through legs and arms, and drove Grace down right into his open-helmed face.

Golden Wrath blew Hanz' head apart, leapt to the devil right next to him and cut a searing path across its chest. Burning black banefire crawled across the wound, and the abishai reeled back a step. It was just enough to get out of Errant's reach so it could belch hellfire at him, while the four knights charged at him, shouting.

The abishai jerked and fell as a stroke of gold cut it diagonally across the back, and then a bolt of golden glory shot out to take Timoth right in the chest. The knight screamed in agony at the blast, staring as the abishai fell, already starting to burn in holy fires, revealing Errant standing behind him, a massive blow at least eight inches deep ripped through its back.

"Gentlemen," Errant said, his brown eyes now finally a burning, nonesuch and unmistakable silver as his Sign flared joyfully to life, "I believe you know my reputation with a sword." His words were enough to check their momentum, now staring into the shining eyes of a Heavenbound. "Now, I am going to show you unfortunate hellbound souls what a Warlock's Sword can do." Their eyes flickered to Phlenigos' corpse, where, in the middle of the holy fires, dark claws could be seen grasping a struggling spectral figure, dragging him down, down to his sworn Fate...

Their screams were short, it was all over in ten seconds. The Whirlwind killed Timoth, ripped burning wounds through all of them, and then the Cleaves that followed Timoth dropping rent through the rest of them. They collapsed, armor split and burning with the holy fires of his Wrath, aghast at their first true brush with a servant of Heaven, and how they had ended up.

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He pulled out his Scepter, and the Vivic enhancement upon it rapidly reduced their bodies to misting ash. He removed their enchanted armor, as they were senior members of the knights, for conversion that very night, stacking them up on the Disk he brought out to carry their loot. Minor enchanted weapons, jewelry, Master Phlenigos' assortment of belongings, and Hanz' kit of crisply efficient Gear for slaughtering the hapless all went on the Disk.

Their horses weren't far away, and the Wildstone he'd purchased let him talk with animals enough to tell them to get back to their stables before night fell, or something might eat them.

That done, he resumed his trotting towards the capital. But this time, he had one hand on the Disk as he Crossed the Light every six seconds, covering three hundred feet each time, not even interrupting his stride as he moved along.

The capital of the Empire of Rosencrux, Zynozure, awaited!

Chapter end