The Once King Read online

  How pathetic could she be? Asking about her ex the day after she dumped him was just sad, especially considering how much else she had to worry about. Well, no more. She’d told him she was done, and it was time to start acting like it.

  Unfortunately, Tina was so determined to focus on things other than SB, she forgot to watch where she was going as she stomped between the tents and ended up running face first into someone’s chest in the process.

  “OMG, I am so sorry,” she cried, scrambling back to see who she’d just run over. “Run over” was the right term, too, because when a half-ton of armored stonekin bumped into someone, it usually resulted in serious injury. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—the person she’d run into this time was just about the only figure in the entire camp she could smack into and not damage. He was also the only person she could walk into and only come up to his chest. That was the advantage of being a five-skull raid boss, though. You were literally the biggest thing around.

  “Your Majesty,” Tina said, looking up at the towering figure of the Holy King of Bastion with a wince. Of course she’d crash into the king. Seriously, how much worse could today get? “Forgive me. I didn’t mean—”

  “No, no, it’s all right,” King Gregory said hastily, giving her an unsure smile that looked very out of place on his regal face. “I actually came here looking to bump into you, so this is quite fortuitous.”

  “You came here to see me?” Tina repeated, glancing down the empty path behind him. Not a lord or courtier or even a guard in sight. Not that a raid boss needed guards, but the lack of attendants struck her as very odd.

  “I thought it would be best if we could talk casually, as players do,” the king said, noting her note his lack of an entourage. “I came by earlier, but your Ranger told me that you were sleeping.”

  Tina blinked. Wow. When Zen had said everyone had been stalking her tent, she’d meant everyone.

  “I wanted a chance to speak with you before the war meeting,” Gregory went on, his speech speeding up, almost as if he were nervous. “It’s critical that—”

  “Wait,” Tina interrupted. “War meeting? What war meeting?” No one had told her anything about a meeting.

  “The leaders of the factions here are gathering at noon to discuss how we shall face the coming crisis,” the king explained patiently. “All the player leaders were invited, though, of course, as leader of the Roughnecks, you are the one we most wish to speak with. It’s no exaggeration to say that your group is invaluable in the coming battle against the Once King’s armies. I’ve already asked your second in command, SilentBlayde, if you will be participating, but he claimed he could not speak for you.”

  Tina snorted. Good to know that SB still respected her enough not to put words in her mouth. Unfortunately, this meant she had to answer the king herself, and she didn’t think he was going to like it. “I don’t know what we’re doing yet,” she told him honestly. “I have to gather more information and talk about it with my people before we decide what’s our best course.”

  That was a damn good dodge, Tina felt. But while Gregory wasn’t the evil, Machiavellian king she’d assumed he was during the worst parts of the mess in Bastion, he still had far more political experience than she did, and he didn’t miss a beat.

  “Of course you must,” the king said smoothly. “I know many of your number wish to return to your homes. I’ve already promised you access to my Portal Keepers in return for your great heroism in Bastion, but surely there is something else you desire. Lands, titles, money, wealth? I may be a displaced ruler, but until the Once King actually takes my head, all of the lands of Bastion are still at my disposal. You told me on the field of battle that yours was a mercenary company. What can I offer you to ensure your continued support?”

  Tina sighed. That was as open-ended a bribe as she could ever have wished, but while money and power were great for those who wanted to stay, they didn’t mean squat to the people who wanted to get home before their bodies died. She still didn’t know what she was going to do about that, but playing the wrong hand now would split her guild, and that was a disaster no one could afford. So even though it went against every instinct she had, Tina forced herself to be patient.

  “I can’t tell you our price because I don’t know what we want,” she told the king. “We haven’t even talked to the Portal Keepers yet, and I can’t promise anything before I know how big a fight we’re signing up for. Even after I get the details, I still have to discuss them with my people so we can vote, and I need to share what I learn with Assets and Cinco so that their guilds can decide.”

  Just listing it all out made Tina exhausted. When had leading a guild gotten so complicated? To her surprise, though, the king nodded like that had been exactly the nonanswer he’d expected her to give. “I understand it’s a very complex issue,” he said. “But if it makes your decision easier, I’ve already heard from Lord Assets that the majority of his Trade Company Guild wishes to stay here.”

  Tina blinked at the King. “Lord Assets?”

  The giant man nodded. “My previous treasurer perished in the battle for Bastion, and Assets has already shown himself to be immensely qualified. He eagerly accepted the position of Lord of the Treasury, as well as the barony which comes with it.”

  “I bet he did,” Tina said with a snort, leaving off that Assets—aka Bridget Walsh, former CFO of a Fortune 500 company and unrepentant exploitive capitalist—would likely be running the kingdom within a decade. She was about to warn Gregory not to give the greedy elf too much power when the king leaned in.

  “But you could have even better,” he said in a low voice, his face deadly serious. “Many of the noble titles in Bastion were given as rewards for victories in war. Help us defeat the Once King’s army, and I could make you a duchess. Even a—”

  “Tina!”

  The sudden yell made them both jump as a tall Berserker—not as tall as Roxxy or the king but still freakishly huge for a human—stepped out of the forest of tents and elbowed his way into the conversation. “What we talking about?”

  “Heya, Cinco,” Tina said, too grateful for the distraction to be properly pissed at his rudeness. “The king came to get me for some sort of war meeting.”

  “Great, I was headed that way myself,” the leader of the Red Sands guild said, putting out his arm. Tina stared at it for several seconds, uncomprehending, before she realized he was offering to walk her down the path like an old-fashioned gallant.

  That image was so ridiculous she laughed, but while there was no way in hell she was going to loop her giant stone arm through his like some kind of armored debutante, she was happy to let the Berserker walk between her and the king, who kept asking for answers she couldn’t give. Unfortunately, Cinco wasn’t done yet.

  “Hey, King,” he said, grinning up at Gregory in a way that was not at all friendly, “I heard someone important asking for you on my way over. Seems like there’s some problem or other that needs your attention. You should probably go deal with it.”

  That was the worst lie Tina had ever heard. From the pinched look on his face, Gregory felt the same way, but it was clear now that their “casual” chat was over, so he backed away with a sigh. “Thank you for your time, Miss Anderson,” he said, bowing politely to Tina. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

  Unsure what else to say, Tina nodded back, watching guiltily as the gentle giant of a king straightened himself up and strode off, vanishing between the tents at a speed that would have been a sprint for a normal-sized person.

  “Damn, Cinco,” she said once Gregory was gone. “Did you just run off the king with a lie?”

  “It wasn’t a lie,” CincoDeMurder replied casually. “I used to manage a call center back in college. There’s always someone looking for the boss, so while I might not have heard anything specific, I’m sure it was true enough.”

  Tina rolled her eyes.

  “This war meeting is serious business, though,” Cinco went on.
“Let’s go that way, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  He offered her his arm again as he finished, only this time it didn’t seem so foolish. Hearing Cinco talk about home had reminded her that inside Roxxy’s hulking body, she was still Tina. SB had made it clear yesterday that he didn’t care about that person, but Cinco was here offering his arm to her giant stone self, seemingly without caring how stupid it looked. And that was nice. Ridiculous, but it felt good to be reminded that some people thought she was worth the effort.

  She still wasn’t going to hold his hand, though.

  “I’m fine like this,” she said, folding her arms behind her. “So what you got?”

  If her rebuff hurt his feelings, Cinco didn’t show it. He just smiled and started leading the way out of the player camp into the main tent city of Windy Lake. “Have you heard about Lord Assets of Sell-Outia yet?”

  Tina rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. Gregory tried that shit on me, too. So what about you? Are you Count Cinco De Murdershire or something now? Because if so, you might want to treat your future boss with more respect.”

  “You mean the pushover king we almost dethroned yesterday?” Her fellow guild leader waved his hand like he was swatting a fly. “I’m never bowing to him. And for the record, I’m still pissed at you about that treaty you agreed to on our behalf.”

  Tina gave him a scathing look. “That’s not the tune you were singing yesterday. You and Assets looked scared as shit when I came in. I saved all of our asses with that peace deal, and you know it. Don’t you dare try to act like you didn’t want me pulling your ass out of the fire now that you’re safe.”

  Cinco put up his hands. “Whoa! Down, girl,” he said. “I only brought it up because I wanted to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen again today.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Babe, we’re going into a war meeting,” he reminded her, exasperated. “In case King Pushover’s personal visit wasn’t a big enough clue, the NPCs are frothing at the mouth to get you on their side. Assets already ate up his bribe, but what else could you expect from a low-level bank alt whose only skill in life is screwing other people over? You and me, though, we’re different. We’re on top of this shit world. That’s why everyone’s willing to pay through the nose to get us on their side.”

  Tina sighed. “If you’re asking me what I plan to do, I still don’t—”

  “I know,” he said, giving her a superior look. “Your raiders aren’t the only ones bickering over should we stay or should we go. I’m not asking you to choose one way or the other yet. I’m just saying don’t make a choice for me again. Whatever the Roughnecks decide, Red Sands wants in, but you talk about that shit with me first before you sign any more NPC bullcrap, deal?”

  “Fair enough,” Tina said, holding out her hand. Cinco grabbed it with his usual crushing grip, but then his fingers grew gentle, lifting the back of her giant armored hand to his lips. When she gave him a What the fuck? look, he let her go with a wink, striding ahead down the dusty road toward the center of Windy Lake.

  As expected of a town that had just had an active war teleported onto its doorstep, the jubatus city was a flurry of activity. The fierce cat-people of the Savanna ignored the blistering heat as they ran to and fro carrying medicines, weapons, and food to the various tents of wounded refugees and soldiers. The town’s forges rang with frantic work, and everyone was shouting as different clans tried to coordinate with each other and with the groups of disgraced knights and players who were also trying to get their needs taken care of. The result was a noisy mass of hot, dusty chaos that even the ever-present winds couldn’t tamp down. Thankfully, the war meeting was at the Naturalist’s Lodge, the only wooden structure in all of Windy Lake, which also made it the quietest.

  As usual, Cinco hopped up the stairs to enter first, though he did hold the curtain for her as Tina stepped into the mercifully shady but very crowded central chamber. There were so many furry, lashing tails, she had to slow to a crawl to avoid stepping on something she shouldn’t and causing a diplomatic incident, but at least the break gave her a chance to survey the circular room.

  In addition to the aforementioned important-looking cat-people attached to the tails, Tina spotted an extremely sour-looking Captain Hightower, commander of Bastion’s City Guard. The Arch Sorcerer of Bastion—whose name she still didn’t know—was there as well, as was High Priest Raffestain. The Bastion crowd was gathered around Gregory, who was seated at the head of a massive table beside an ancient battle-ax of a female jubatus Naturalist that Tina dimly remembered James referring to as Gray Fang. Next to them, “Lord” Assets was lounging on a cushion, trying to look impressive. The well-dressed elf nodded imperiously at her and Cinco. Cinco responded by flicking him the bird, a gesture that, thankfully, no one else at the table seemed to realize the meaning of. For her part, Tina just focused on getting to the oversized pillow that was clearly meant for her without crushing anyone’s limbs.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Gregory said when everyone was seated. “My deepest thanks to the Lords of the Savanna for aiding Bastion in our time of need. I am proud to stand once again with our friends of old.”

  This praise elicited a lot of preening from the line of old cats across the table. “It’s in these hard times that a king learns who his true allies are,” announced the tallest and most scarred of them, a great old terror of a jubatus named Rends Iron Hides, who also happened to be the cat James had decided was his new dad. Or whatever.

  “Quite,” Gregory agreed with a nervous smile. “Now that we’ve had a chance to settle the chaos, though, it is time to take stock of what we have and how we will go about defeating the undead menace ravaging our lands. Lord Assets will explain more.”

  It took everything Tina had not to roll her eyes as Assets stood up and pulled a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his replica-Armani suit.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” the elf said in his clipped accent. “After a night of counting, it is my guild’s best estimation that twenty-five thousand of Bastion’s original citizens escaped the city’s final collapse. I realize that’s a terribly low number, but please keep in mind that the vast majority of the capital’s population fled before the city was sealed by the Royal Knights. Of those who remained, twenty-five thousand is a higher-than-expected number that we should all be proud of.”

  He paused for applause, but none came. Tina didn’t know about the jubatus, but everyone who’d been at Bastion knew that Assets was glossing over the fact that the number of dead and missing was likely ten times that of the surviving.

  “Of the combined armies remaining from the attack on the capital, two thousand are former knights, three thousand are city guards, and we have an additional one thousand mixed units from the castle garrison, bringing our total combat-ready manpower to six thousand, give or take.”

  Tina blew out a breath. Those were lower numbers than she’d expected given the masses of men they’d seen marching down Bastion’s Royal Mile. She felt a stab of guilt for her part in reducing the ranks of the king’s armies, but she shoved it away just as quickly. She’d done what she’d had to do at the time, and her people were alive because of it. She refused to feel guilty over the deaths of those who’d willingly gone along with Malakai’s shitty decisions, but she was feeling a lot worse about Bastion’s prospects here in the Savanna—an emotion that was almost certainly on purpose since Assets was staring straight at her.

  “Thanks to Windy Lake, we can count on another thousand jubatus warriors,” the elf went on, blithely ignoring her pointed glare. “The king has also signed a deal with the gnolls—sorry, the Grand Pack of Red Canyon—who have agreed to lend us the use of their fortress at Red Canyon as well as pledging the assistance of an additional five thousand soldiers in exchange for a royal declaration of citizenship. This brings our total armed forces to twelve thousand. We have a high readiness level, and while supplies and replenishment are always an issue in any
long campaign, the jubatus’s high mobility and knowledge of the land should ensure we are always fighting on favorable ground.”

  He finished with a confident smile, reminding Tina of a salesman trying to reassure a nervous customer that this really was the deal of the century. She wasn’t sure the NPCs were buying it, but they weren’t the ones who spoke next.

  “What about the other guys?” Cinco asked, his booming voice offensively loud in the crowded room. “Our numbers don’t mean shit if we don’t know what we’re fighting against.”

  “I was getting to that,” Assets said testily, turning his paper over. “Obviously, it’s hard to get an accurate count of an army that has yet to arrive, but given what we observed in Bastion, we’re expecting an attack force of at least a hundred thousand assorted undead.”

  “A hundred thousand,” one of the cat lords repeated, his tail stiff as a board.

  “Mindless zombies and reanimated animals,” Assets assured him, as if that made it better. “Thanks to the Roughnecks’ heroic efforts yesterday, the majority of the really dangerous foes—the former raid and dungeon bosses—are already defeated. We’re expecting only a handful of serious intelligent enemies to assault the Savanna, of which only two should be five-skull rated.”

  He’d clearly meant that to be the good news, but no one at the table looked any happier, especially since Assets was still going. “But while we should be facing a much less powerful army than we did in Bastion, we still have two major problems before us. The first comes from the Great Bird Xthr, who has reported that the Once King’s lich-lords have been hard at work reanimating large numbers of the dead we left behind in Bastion.”

  Gregory went pale. “What?”

  “They’re turning our fallen into zombies to use against us,” Assets clarified, too caught up in his analytics to notice the horror on the king’s face.

  “Our people,” Gregory whispered, voice trembling.