PATRIARCH FOWL
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Casual Heroing, Chapter 247
🕑 Added 2024-03-06 22:09:49 +0000 UTCThe chunky chapter is finally here!
Sorry for the delay, I really screwed up with the delayed editing.
THE ASSASSINS ARE THE—!?! 🔫🔫🔫
Next chapter comes out on March 8th, International Women's Day!
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Chapter 247 – Fulcrum
Aurelianus and Joey were standing on the edge of a precipice, facing a potential war that could upset the fragile peace in Amorium. The atmosphere was tense.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Caius, ever vigilant, tensed, his eyes darting toward the door with an alarm that cut through the thick air like a knife. “There’s one in the hallway,” he uttered, his voice a low growl, “they triggered my wards.”
In a fluid motion, the [General] rose. He strode to the door and threw it open, unleashing a skill, “[Paralyzing Presence].”
The effect was instantaneous. A figure that had previously been cloaked in shadows fell from the ceiling, hitting the ground with a thud that echoed ominously in the room. The figure seized, spasming, but lay immobilized on the ground.
Without hesitation, the [General]’s subordinates sprang into action, dragging the [Assassin] into the room.
“[Assassins],” the [General] spat, his voice a mixture of contempt and resignation. “Monitoring you. The place is swarming with these…” He trailed off, searching for the word that could encapsulate the depth of his disdain.
Joey offered, “Worms?”
A bitter laugh escaped the [General]’s mouth – a sound that seemed out of place given the gravity of the moment. He shook his head, acknowledging the aptness of Joey’s description.
It was then that Joey noticed something peculiar about the [Assassin]’s attire. He approached the immobilized man and took his cloak into his hands. It bore a distinct pattern in its stitching, one that was eerily familiar. His gaze drifted to his own new suit, and as he looked at the seams of his blazer, he recognized the exact same patterns.
“Oh, shit, is this why Fulvia warned me about Marcella?” he said to no one in particular.
A realization dawned on him.
Looking up, Joey met the [General]’s knowing gaze.
“Well,” the [General] began, his voice carrying a new weight, “isn’t this the best time to tell you who killed Plinius.”
...
One Day Before
[General] Aurelianus stood with the weight of years and battles carved into his posture. The War Room was filled with the maps and plans of campaigns past and present: this was where Aurelianus had instructed Plinius on what needed to be done for the mission. And it was here that [Prince] Brutus chose to deliver his message.
“You’re aging, [General],” [Prince] Brutus remarked as he circled the room. His voice was light, almost playful, but the underlying tension between the two men was palpable.
“Thank you, [Prince] Brutus,” Aurelianus replied, his smile polite yet strained. He appeared calm, but on the inside, he was a mess of emotions. He felt angry, betrayed, and wronged. The prince’s words served as a subtle reminder that his influence was diminishing, and the attention he received from the prince was bittersweet.
As Brutus continued his paced examination of the room, his next words felt like a dagger wrapped in silk. “You must understand, Aurelianus, we can’t allow the military to run rampant. In fact, I waited to see whether you would still make a move. Thankfully, you understood our message very clearly.”
Aurelianus, grasping onto his dignity like a shield, responded with a Vanedeni saying, “When the crown speaks, all the metal in the country answers to it.” It was a statement of loyalty.
“I wish it was that simple,” Brutus sighed, settling into a chair with the ease of someone unburdened by the weight of command. “Your expertise has been invaluable to the military up to this point, [General]...”
“But you want to cut me loose. The dead branches are poisoned, and you don’t want them to drain the new saplings,” Aurelianus interjected, his voice bitter.
“That is quite indelicate,” Brutus responded, his sigh conveying a faux mix of frustration and resignation. “We don’t need to humiliate you, [General]. Nor does the Royal Family, upon my suggestion, have any interest in taking your life. In fact, we just advise you to take your retirement West of Carilia. A mansion has already been purchased in your name. You’ll be able to choose your staff, your servants, and even start some new activities out there. Well, not military ones, obviously.”
Exile. The word hung unspoken in the air, a sentence masquerading itself as a gift. Aurelianus felt the walls of the room close in on him, the maps and plans mocking him as they became silent witnesses to his downfall.
Inner turmoil churned within the [General]. He had schemed, fought, and bled for his position, inching ever closer to the apex of power, only to be cast aside. Yet, the survival instinct that had served him so well in battle kicked in. He recognized the cold calculus of royal favor—if he pushed too far, he would find himself not in a mansion but in an unmarked grave.
Brutus, ever the [Diplomat], continued, oblivious or indifferent to the storm within Aurelianus. “It’s much better than the alternative, [General], as you might know. We just can’t afford the kind of war you had in mind, but we don’t want to get rid of someone with so many accomplishments. Therefore, we’ll arrange a great parade in your honor, where you’ll announce your retirement. You’ll quote health reasons, or maybe just tiredness and how you miss not having built a family. You can pick anything you want.”
The suggestion was a mockery, a farce. Brutus’s words, calculated and cold, laid bare the ruthless efficiency of royal strategy. They were willing to parade Aurelianus as a hero, even as they stripped him of all he held dear.
“Brutus,” Aurelianus said, dropping the formalities, “you don’t think I would want to avenge my boy?”
“Your [Captain] was an unfortunate piece of collateral damage,” Brutus replied, his voice smooth, yet each word was a blade twisting in Aurelianus’s heart.
“Collateral damage?” Aurelianus’s voice rose, anger flaring. “You’re talking about a rotten Elf, fool!”
“[General],” Brutus said, his tone shifting to something darker, more somber. “I think you misunderstand me. I regret that your [Captain] had to die, but actions have consequences. You found out what the consequences are for your transgressions—consider yourself fortunate that you weren’t the one eating that cake.”
“So, the crown doesn’t want to start a war with the Humans because we just have to go along with their depraved ways, [Prince]?” Aurelianus’s voice was laced with poison.
Brutus responded with a coldness that seemed to lower the temperature in the room. “Retribution will be served,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
Aurelianus was momentarily taken aback, his seasoned mind racing to decipher the true meaning behind Brutus’s statement. The realization dawned on him slowly.
They want to start an all-out war? The [General] frowned as he thought about what the [Prince] might mean with his words.
“Do not mistake my actions for weakness, Aurelianus,” Brutus continued, his voice gaining an edge of severity. “You don’t know what we’re ready for in order to end this once and for all.”
The [General] felt a chill run down his spine. The Royal Family was not as passive as he had believed. They were clearly willing to go to war but on their own terms.
Aurelianus’s thoughts were a whirlwind of speculation and concern.
“Th [Slavers] thrive on raiding our coasts and snatching young brides-to-be, strong Elves of age, and even children,” [Prince] Brutus said with disgust tinting his voice. “Do you think, [General], that we don’t see it? That we are truly blind?”
For the first time in a long time, [General] Aurelianus found himself speechless.
The [Prince]’s casual mention of the [Slavers] capturing Elves and the ongoing atrocities at Teiko’s slave markets only added fuel to the fire of his unrest.
As Brutus stood up to leave – his move was a deliberate signal that their conversation was at an end. “I must go now,” he stated, a finality in his voice that allowed no room for further discussion. He paused at the doorway, turning back to add, “We’ll send compensation to your [Captain]’s family.”
The offer of compensation, meant as a gesture of goodwill, felt hollow to Aurelianus. It was a small consolation, a bandage over a wound that ran deep. As the [Prince] disappeared into the corridors of the barracks, Aurelianus was left to ponder the future, a future that seemed increasingly uncertain and fraught with danger.
…
The Present
“And that is who killed Plinius,” the [General] said with a heavy tone.
“What the—” Joey was without words.
“I’ll be taking my retirement in advance, Human,” [General] Aurelianus announced, his tone carrying a resignation that belied the gravity of his decision. “I’m ducking this. I have participated in enough bloodshed to know when it’s time for me to go. And this is the time.”
Joey, still processing the flood of information, couldn’t help but notice the weariness that seemed to envelop the general. It was a weariness born not just of age or physical exertion but of the soul-deep fatigue that came with bearing the weight of too many battles, too many losses.
“The reason I’m telling you all this,” the general continued, locking eyes with Joey, “is that I hope that somehow, you’ll kill that rotten prick.” His gaze was intense, searching as if trying to gauge Joey’s capacity for the kind of retribution he himself could no longer exact.
Joey, taken aback by the bluntness of the request, found himself by surprise. Anger, disbelief, and an unexpected sense of respect for the general’s candor mingled within him.
“One more thing,” the general added, his voice lowering, “Cornelia and I had planned to embarrass you. When I saw Diana come to your rescue and all those adventurers go tense, I decided to go through with this little parting gift of mine to Brutus. You should also expect him and Marcella to try something. If I were them, I’d be very interested in killing you—even tonight. They’re clearly fishing for an opening.”
Joey’s response was measured, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As their conversation drew to a close, the general’s gaze drifted to the [Assassin] still lying prone on the floor. “Caius, take him out discreetly after you cut his throat,” he ordered, his tone devoid of emotion.
“Wait,” Joey interjected, a sudden idea taking hold. “Let me have this guy’s cloak. The ballroom is pretty cold. I’m sure I could use a nice cloak.”
The general’s subordinates tensed, their hands moving instinctively towards their weapons as Joey reached into his bag of holding.
Yet, [General] Aurelianus, sensing the intent behind Joey’s request, raised a hand to calm his men. “Your funeral, Human,” he said, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor. “You are looking to provoke a very dangerous woman.”
“Anyway, it’s time for us to leave,” the [General] declared, turning towards the door.
As the door closed behind him, Joey stood alone, cloak in hand, contemplating the next step.
“Wait,” Joey suddenly said. “There’s something you should see.”
...
Handing the letter Plinius had sent to him to [General] Aurelianus, Joey watched as the older man’s eyes scanned the content, a frown creasing his brow. The general’s reaction was mixed with emotions that Joey had rarely seen displayed so openly on the face of someone so accustomed to the stoicism of military life.
“Do you have any idea who Plinius might have met at the Capital?” Joey asked, his voice laced with a hopeful curiosity that perhaps, finally, he might uncover a clue to the puzzle that had been haunting him.
The general passed the letter to his three subordinates, each taking their turn in poring over the words written by their fallen comrade. The room was silent, save for the rustle of paper, as each man contemplated the implications of Plinius’s final message.
“I don’t,” [General] Aurelianus finally admitted, his voice betraying a rare hint of confusion. The admission was a blow, deflating Joey’s hopes of making sense of the cryptic message. “He says he’d have canceled the mission and talked to me.”
The weight of the statement hung in the air, underscoring the gravity of what Plinius had stumbled upon—something so significant that it could have altered the course of the planned mission, perhaps even avoiding the tragedy of his death.
“Why go through Plinius instead of asking me directly, though?” Joey pondered aloud, more to himself than anyone else in the room. The question was a valid one; if someone had information crucial to the general’s plans, why not approach him directly?
“Because they knew of Plinius’s loyalty and your skills. But whoever these guys are, they don’t trust you,” the general explained, his tone indicating a begrudging respect for Joey’s unintended role in the unfolding drama.
“More trouble, huh?” Joey sighed, the weight of the general’s words sinking in. By now, he was no stranger to the sticky web of Amorium’s social and political machinations.
“You have an amazing capacity for trouble,” the general observed, an impressed note in his voice that almost bordered on amusement. It was a small moment of levity in an otherwise tense conversation.
“I have to go, then, [General],” Joey said, his tone serious as he rose from his seat. He put the cloak on his shoulders over the suit. “Thank you for all of this,” he added, his gratitude genuine despite the circumstances.
As Joey prepared to leave, his gaze lingered on Caius, the general’s subordinate, who stood ready to slit the throat of the [Assassin].
“I still don’t like how you played with lives, [General], but I guess there are worse monsters than you,” Joey remarked, his voice carrying a mix of disappointment and resolve.
...
[General] Aurelianus stood before his closest subordinates after the Human had left.
Now, as the echoes of their earlier conversation with Joey Luciani lingered in the air, a new kind of battle was being contemplated—a political one.
Caius, Tizius, and Sempronius, who had served under Aurelianus for years, watched their leader with complicated expressions on their faces.
They had seen the [General] deal with countless situations, but what went down tonight was a first for them.
“If this Human continues to draw such powerful allies to his cause, it’s only a matter of time before Teiko views it as a provocation,” the [General] mused, his gaze fixed on a map he had just unfurled on the table – one that detailed the narrow sea between the two continents. “They won’t hesitate to strike first, believing it to be a preemptive move against an inevitable assault.”
“[General], sir?” Tizius asked. “What do you mean?”
“If the Human doesn’t get killed tonight, his moves will enrich Amorium’s economy, and by extension, the continent, more than the Royal Family could ever understand. Marcella moved too soon, and she clearly hasn’t understood what kind of powers the Human has gathered around him.”
“Would the Named Adventurers and the [Archmage] fight for him, though?” Caius, the [Strategist] asked. “It seems like a tall ask.”
“They wouldn’t dive into a fray without reason. The Human can’t order them to fight for him. But I’m willing to bet that if any idiot tries to take the Human’s head unjustly, they’ll flock to him. Rotten roots of the World’s Tree, they might even attract more people to the Human’s cause like that.”
The subordinates exchanged uneasy glances, the implications of Aurelianus’s words not lost on them. The delicate balance of power that had maintained peace was now at risk, the actions of one Human—Joey Luciani—unwittingly becoming the fulcrum upon which the fate of nations might pivot.
Caius, ever the tactician, stepped forward, his concern etched into the lines of his face. “General, you seem... different regarding this Human. You’ve always been pragmatic, yet now there’s an... interest in him that’s hard to place.”
Aurelianus turned to face his men. “Perhaps, Caius,” he acknowledged a rare admission from a man known for his stoicism. “It’s because I see in Joey Luciani not just a Human, but a potential catalyst for change—much like [Grand Prince] Vespasianus was in his time.”
The comparison drew a collective intake of breath from his subordinates.
[Grand Prince] Vespasianus, a figure revered and feared, had been the harbinger of a new era. He had almost been the catalyst for peace between the Humans and the Elves, a legendary figure in Elven history, and the very reason for the existence of the Day of Blooming.
“To think of Joey as merely a Human is to underestimate the forces that are aligning themselves around him,” the [General] continued, his voice firm. “[Prince] Brutus and Marcella are underestimating him. And I wish I could remain here to see the consequences of their foolish actions.”
...
Joey stepped back into the grand ballroom, the weight of his conversation with [General] Aurelianus heavy on his mind. The festive atmosphere of the room felt surreal after the revelations he’d just encountered.
As he navigated through the crowd, Joey’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of [Princess] Laurealia making her way to him, her expression ripe with urgency that immediately set him on edge.
“Joey,” she said anxiously. “It’s a disaster.”
The words struck Joey with an immediate sense of alarm.
He stopped in his tracks, his attention fully on Laurealia. “What happened?” he asked.
Laurealia took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before she spoke. “Someone has sabotaged the feast. Half of our food and the dishes we were about to serve have been ruined.” The words came out like a flash flood.
But Joey sighed in relief since he had already assumed that something worse might have gone down.
Laurealia’s eyes held his – a plea for help. “What are we going to do? And why do you look so calm?”
Joey nodded. “Let’s figure this out,” he said with a smile. “I arranged for a little surprise just in case something like this would happen.”
