Realm of Monsters - Chapter 681: Vengeance

Chapter 681: Vengeance

  “Mortem is one of the scarlet gods,” Freya explained.

  “He is the Blood Sovereign. It is Mortem who blesses the blood of the unborn with the gift of magic,” Ulin added.

  “Is that right…?” Stryg replied dryly. The Sylvan said something very similar about Lunae and goblin-kind.

  “So what colors did Mortem see fit to bestow upon you?” asked Ulin.

  The man was still fishing for information. A mage’s colors said a lot about their fighting capabilities and expertise in their overall magic. Generally, the more colors they possessed, the less proficient they were in each. Even among multi-colored mages, they tended to favor one or two colors most of the time.

  The fact that Ulin asked about his colors so casually told Stryg two things. One, the dock master did not trust them, or at the very least did not trust Stryg and saw him as a potential threat. Two, the dock master was a naive fool if he thought Stryg was about to tell a stranger the limits of his chromatic abilities. Back in Hollow Shade, everyone knew his abilities, but here in a coastal town far from home, he had the element of a surprise, and Stryg wasn’t about to let that go.

  “Blue and yellow,” Stryg answered.

  “The most sought-after colors for a sea-faring mage. Mortem has blessed you greatly, it seems,” Ulin narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

  “House Goldelm only recruits the best,” Freya added.

  “Mortem didn’t bless me. My magic is my own,” Stryg said with an edge to his voice.

  “I can see your mage is skeptical, Lady Osprey,” Ulin chuckled.

  “Apologies. His spellcasting is great, but his manners are somewhat— lacking,” Freya said.

  “It is quite alright, we do not expect outsiders to believe in our gods,” Ulin said.

  His captain of the guard, Enyo, shrugged her broad shoulders, and nodded. “Our gods do not need their belief to exist.”

  “I believe Mortem exists, I just don’t think he grants anyone their magical talents. If anything, I imagine he cares very little for mortals,” Stryg replied.

  Tauri kicked his shin under the table, then smiled at the dock master and his captain. “Apologies, I think my friend here is somewhat tired from the long journey.”

  “You two are friends?” Ulin cocked an eyebrow.

  “Of a professional sort. I trust him to keep the ship steady,” Tauri replied without missing a beat.

  But Ulin didn’t seem to buy it. “Huh… Earlier, you seemed surprised when I mentioned Mortem. Do you not know him or are you simply not a religious woman?”

  “Neither. I know of Mortem, but my family worships the ebon gods,” Tauri said.

  “Ah, yes, I suppose that is commonplace in Hollow Shade.” Satisfied with her answer, Ulin turned to Stryg, “I can understand why one might think Mortem does not care for mortals. The Blood Sovereign cares little for those who do nothing and expect everything, such as certain arrogant nobles; born into wealth and with no interest in improving themselves. Mortem expects us to seize power on our own, to prove ourselves. That is why no one is born with their magic; it appears later in life.”

  “Elementals are born with their magic, are they not?” Stryg noted.

  “Mortem is not the god of elementals,” Ulin said.

  “He is a scarlet god. Scarlet. As in a chromatic god,” Enyo spoke as if she were talking to a toddler.

  Stryg leaned back and crossed his arms. “Then is Mortem a chromatic like us?”

  “No,” Ulin said.

  “Then is he an elemental like fairies or sea serpents?”

  “No,” Ulin said, this time somewhat less jovially.

  “So what is he then?” Stryg asked.

  “A god. To try and categorize him like anything else is borderline blasphemous,” Enyo warned, her hand wandering back to her sword hilt.

  “It’s fine, Enyo. I do not expect outsiders to understand,” Ulin waved her off. “But I do hope you believe my words, Captain Lora.”

  Tauri didn’t reply right away, almost forgetting her fake name, but then she quickly nodded. “With all my heart.”

  “I’m happy to hear it,” Ulin beamed. “It’s a pity, really. Had you grown up in our ancestral lands, you’d have learned so much. Instead, Hollow Shade has stripped so much from you.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Tauri replied tactfully.

  “He isn’t,” Stryg interrupted.

  “Str— Ostroz, please, enough,” Freya commanded.

  “No, let him speak. Your disagreement about our gods is well noted, sir mage. If you wish to share your thoughts on how Hollow Shade has not stripped my fellow orcs of their true religion, then please, by all means, enlighten us,” Ulin taunted. 

  Tauri and Freya sent Stryg subtle signals to not respond.

  “…You’re right, Hollow Shade has taken much from many, many people,” Stryg finally said.

  Freya and Tauri shared a collective sigh.

  “My disagreement is with the rest of your statement,” Stryg continued.

  Tauri bowed her head and held back a groan. Freya took a swig of her ale and absentmindedly reached for Oginum, but she had left the golden hammer in Kegrog’s care.

  “With the rest of my statement…? Well, please, go on. I’m dying to hear,” Ulin said.

  “You called this place your ancestral land. But the Silent Marshes are not yours to claim,” Stryg said.

  “What did you say?” Enyo growled.

  Stryg didn’t back down and pushed on, “Mortem is one of your gods, right? You two said so yourself. He is a scarlet god. Last I checked, this is the Ebon Realm, not the Scarlet Realm. The Silent Marshes is not your ancestral land, it’s the goblins. You simply live in it.”

  The dock master bared his yellow-stained teeth in a smile that barely concealed the anger underneath. “Really? That is what you disagree with? That’s rich. You question my homeland while sitting in my home? Whatever ‘formal training’ you received clearly did not include the history of this region. My family has been here for five generations. We built this town from nothing but old ruins. What have the goblins done for our home? Nothing!”

  “The goblins were here for thousands of years before an orc set foot in the Silent Marshes. They built the homes that became the ruins your docks sit upon,” Stryg said.

  “Then where are they? Where are these goblin craftsmen? In fact, where are any goblins, really?” Ulin made a show of looking around the tavern. “I don’t see any of them, do you?”

  Stryg stared at the orc in silence.

  Ulin shook his head. “You know why you don’t see them? Because the goblins were weak. Stupid, little creatures that believed they could stand up to the might of the armies of Morrigan and Katag. Enyo, what is the lesson that every child in our town learns before they can even swim?”

  “The strong eat the weak,” Enyo answered.

  “Exactly. We took what was ours because it was our right. The goblins could have accepted that reality and run away, but no, instead they chose to fight, and they all died for it. The smart ones ran off into the woods. But even they were not so smart after all. Their pathetic fleet now sails towards the heart of the Silent Marshes. The goblins underestimate the power of orcs once more. Murkton has already dispatched its fleet to intercept, and just like three centuries ago, we will crush the goblin plague.”

  “Funny. The village I grew up in also taught us the same lesson. The strong eat the weak… It’s odd. For some reason, it doesn’t quite sit right with me anymore,” Stryg muttered and stared into his tankard of ale.

  “Then you’ve grown soft,” Ulin said with disgust.

  Freya slapped her hand on the table. “A toast. To the victory of the Murkton fleet over its enemies!”

  “Yes, a toast!” Tauri was quick to agree and raised her tankard.

  “Aye, to victory!” Ulin held up his tankard, Enyo joining in.

  Stryg ignored them and only sipped at his ale after the toast.

  “You have quite the charming mage, Lady Osprey,” Ulin chuckled dryly.

  “Yes, he’s a delight,” Freya sighed.

  “…Have you ever seen a goblin, dock master?” Stryg asked.

  “Pardon?” Ulin blinked.

  “Have you, personally, ever seen a goblin?” Stryg reiterated.

  Tauri closed her eyes in resignation. Freya downed the rest of her drink.

  “Goblins haven’t been seen around here in centuries,” Ulin scoffed. “My ancestors ran those rats out of the wetlands long ago.”

  “So you’ve never seen a goblin, then?” Stryg asked.

  Ulin stayed silent, but nodded begrudgingly.

  “And you?” Stryg asked Enyo.

  “No, but I own a skull of one of those little creatures. Family heirloom.” The captain gave a malicious grin filled with pride, as if it were a dire bear skull hanging on the wall after a great hunt.

  Stryg stared at the two of them, his slit pupils growing thin. After a long, steady breath, he spoke. “Goblins are smaller than orcs, yes. They are smaller than most things in this Realm, especially in regards to Vulture Woods. Goblins learn quickly; they understand the need to work together in order to survive against the much larger world around them.”

  “Like ants,” Ulin laughed at his own joke.

  Stryg placed his hands on the table and clasped them together so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Like wolves. Goblins value hard-earned wisdom. They pass on their wisdom to help the younger generations survive in the most deadly forest in the world. Chief among those lessons is patience.

  “The patience to stay your bow until the shot is clear in your line of sight. The patience to hide and bide your time as large predators roam the woods around you. The patience to hold back even when every single bone in your body screams otherwise. The patience to hold your tongue…”

  “It would do you well to learn a lesson or two from the goblins,” Tauri glared at him.

  “Yes, patience was the one lesson I could never quite grasp,” Stryg said. “And yet, I’ve never felt so certain about anything as I do in this moment.”

  Enyo furrowed her brow, but before she could fully comprehend his words, Stryg lashed out and caught her jaw. Enyo roared in his grasp and jumped to her feet to no avail. Stryg’s grip was ironclad. She grabbed his forearm and tried to pry his hand off her face, but he held her still. “Get off me, bastard!” she screamed.

  “Guards!” Ulin scrambled backwards away from the table.

  Tauri and Freya were already on their feet, looking at the room filled with sailors and soldiers, all reaching for their weapons. A few were even beginning to cast spells.

  “Gods, I miss my hammer,” Freya muttered.

  “Dammit, Stryg! This wasn’t the plan!” Tauri hissed.

  Their words fell on deaf ears. Stryg stared into Enyo’s panicked eyes as she tried to get free. He squeezed and tore her jaw off her skull in a bloody splash. Enyo fell to the floor, gasping in her own blood and shock. Stryg looked down at her before planting his foot over her throat and letting his weight do the rest.

  “Guards!” Ulin yelled over and over.

  Stryg caught sight of the dock master running towards the door, yelling for even more help. Stryg grabbed the tabletop with one hand and ripped it off its nailed-down pedestal. He pulled back his arm and flung it across the room. The tabletop slammed into Ulin’s back with a sickening crunch and sent him crashing into the wall, the center of his spine little more than bloodied paste.

  “We could use some help over here!” Freya yelled as she blasted a soldier away with a bolt of fire.

  Stryg glanced back at the dozens of orcs, his gaze cold, calm. Black mana surged into his body and his shadow exploded outwards, enveloping the entire tavern in darkness.