Saiyan

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Zell was sat on the grass against a tree, on the slopes at the foot of Citadel Mountain. He was far enough from the road and onto the green that no one would spot him, but his own view was within range of Little Bridge. For him, the time couldn't go fast enough. Ironically, it was the total opposite; time was moving like molasses. Midnight was still some time away and he had nothing to do. There was no sense in going up the mountain early. It would be extremely difficult to be inconspicious just loitering around the upper district. Someone would be bound to notice his presence and more likely to either ask questions or remember him tomorrow, when news of the Ambassador's disappearance was out and police started an investigation. He didn't want to hang around at The Mended Drum either. He'd rather not be seen at all, by his friends, than seen leaving the inn when midnight neared. It was best that none of them knew about this little tangeant into illicit escapades.

In this gap in his schedule - this moment of solitude - Zell expected to hear from Baphomet. It was clear that the Devil was no longer confined to the dream world, as he was before. Zell could sense him, like a weight on his mind, or when you can feel someone watching you, or the congestion of the air in a room full of gangsters. Actually - all of the above. But the Prince of the Oblivion Plane didn't say a word, not once. Strange.

He pondered the battle ahead. So far, he'd shown nothing but his usual brand of unassailable confidence. Unbreakable Zell Brooks.

'Mentality Monsters' as he and his football team used to call themselves. Macho dumbasses was what they were, in truth.

'Screw the odds, Second Chance had dealt with everything else Mytheria had to throw at them.' In truth: Mytheria had killed two of them, disappeared another two and nearly broke the spirit of their youngest, Adam.

'We are the Lions, hear us roar?' A third of their one hundred were mere cubs. A few were fucking kittens.

Zell rubbed his cheek as he absent-mindedly watched a troop of guards cross the little bridge in the distance. "Valhiem's circling the drain," he muttered to himself. "They'd have to be perfect. Every external factor in their favour. Every star to align. And even then, victory would be a miracle."

The truth hurt. What's worse was that he couldn't even tell his friends. Not for fear of looking like a coward, although that certainly played a small part in the equation. He couldn't tell them because Second Chance had been the source of a spark of morale in the city, these past few days. What if the truth was the straw that broke the camel's back - what if his words stole their shine and stopped them from shining on Valhiem? "Certain death for everyone. From a 1% chance to win, to zero."

A General who knows when and when not to fight, never loses. Valhiem was a terrible choice to make a stand. The walls didn't even have ballista towers or built-in mage towers reinforced with ritual metamagic; Bolster, Extend, Quicken, Heighten... they weren't even prepared in spite of being virtually on the front lines of the war. The people in charge of this place were fucking idiots. They should have evacuated Valhiem well before now. Retreated west. Especially when the fortress in the north started drawing all the strength from the region. "Frogs in slowly boiling water, content with the warmth," Zell spat bitterly. "Christ, what lunacy."

Zell shook his head. The lights were red when he got hit by that bus, at the end of his last life. (A fact that he consistently reminded himself of, everyday he'd been in Mytheria.) It wasn't a mistake to cross that street. Just an accident caused by a shitty driver. This time; the lights are green. Bright fucking green. Inescapable emerald. Super celadon. Loud lime.

And there was enough time to make a decision. In fact, there was an Ambassador literally showing him how to not be a lemming. No excuses.

This time, it would be all on him, if he chose to step onto the road.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"So, in my father's day it was just, 'The Drum.' Back then, the place was more akin to The Brass Monkey a real rowdy lot." Zell sat thoroughly entertained as he ate his dinner at the bar in Second Chance's home away from home. "Then, one day - back when the Cherryball fan rivalry was at it's height - a brawl broke out, I mean crazy-like. As the Quinity as my witness, I swear I ain't never saw nothing like it. Musta been half a hundred men beating the ever-loving snot out of eachother. Fists, feet, furniture, even weapons and magic got used. Mass arrests, casualties - a bloke even died. The death was an accident of course. Nobody's ever trying to commit murder over the sport of Cherryball, but passion got the better of everyone that day."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me, bruv," Zell said with a full mouth. He swallowed his mouth-full of food with one noticeably painful gulp, then continued. "Back where I'm from, it's the same with Football. It's practically a religion and I ain't ashamed to admit it. I bleed Chelsea FC."

Frederick tilted his head in understanding. "Then we understand eachother. I bleed Eastenders Cherryball Warriors." They both grinned. "But that day, 'The Drum' was rightly named 'The Broken Dum,' for all the damage the building came out with. Had that name for about a year or two. Took a while to get eveything all fixed up while, at the same time, keeping the business afloat. Cost my father his hair in stress. I took over and started banning all the Cherryball goons. Banned the wearing of colours... everything. Eventually, the mobs took their business elsewhere and the clientele began to change into what you see today. Now it's 'The Mended Drum.'"

"Ha! That's a fucking great story, boss." Zell looked around. "You've done a right good job with the place. I'm into this kinda vibe, meself. I mean; fuck, I'll roll around in the mud when situation calls for it, sure. But in my old line of work, happy drunks buy a lot more drugs than angry drunks. And I'm more of a lover than a fighter, personally."

Frederick raised his eyebrows and bounced back, "That Source Crystal says otherwise!"

"Ha! Got me there, I suppose." Zell conceded. He went back to his food as Frederick shifted over to serve another customer. Zell smiled to himself as he ate, putting forth the case in his mind that he really wasn't the fighting type, back home. He was a fairly disciplined athlete. He didn't eat crap, he didn't do drugs. He was no coward, but he did have 'Muscle' he could call upon when shit hit the fan. His only weakness was girls and beer, but he never let those things misalign his focus when it came to football or his miniture drug empire. And when he recently got his act together and started studying properly, he didn't even let football or his operation get in the way of that. Zell Brooks was a goofball, no doubt about it, but when he set his mind to something, there was no stopping him.

A much simpler time, Zell remembered with melancholy. Fuck, I miss London.

It seemed like forever ago, he'd been through so much since. And right now, things were anything but simple. He wanted to apologise to James, for wasting his time with that ritual - to tell his best friend that if they could just wait until after the big battle, he would be ready-like-Eddy to give up The Black Sword. He wanted so badly to confront MacKensie about what happened on their non-date - how it all ended, the morning after - but he knew she would hear no part of it.

And you want to leave with The Ambassador. Leave your friends. Seek greener pastures. Because you know that is the best course of action.

Zell shook those thoughts away, not even sure if those thoughts were his own or Baphomet's. It made sense. He had a way out of this desperate situation. And he had made a friend in Ambassador Malcom Crane who might give him a leg-up onto the political ladder. The temptation was grating in the back of his mind.

One thing about Baphomet - love him or hate him - was that: He was right more often than not.

Fuck.

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

@Zoolyooooo Mrs Zool lesgooo!

damn, so the double agent isn't the ambassador. Just Adam with another



lol

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

impressivebateman.gif

confident, ethics bender, protective of team. not sure she will like Zell but he will definitely like her lol

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Zell picked up the solo glass sitting on the tray, on the table, eyeing it briefly before setting it down and picking up the bottle.

"Empty. He likes a drink," Zell muttered. He unscrewed the lid and sniffed. "Brandy. Good taste."

Moving on, he found some papers on a cabinet and scanned each one. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

It was when he went into the bedroom that he actually came across some pertinent information. It didn't take much snooping to find the packed bags under the bed. "Well, well, well." Zell dragged them out and had a feeling he knew what he was about to find. He was right. Clothes, a few rations and some toiletries. "Looks like our Ambassador is planning a holiday. And there's only one way out of this city, as it stands."

He searched the bags for letters or documents but found nothing. No money either, which made no sense. Even if he'd already paid the Thieves Guild for the extraction, didn't mean he wouldn't need a few quid to get back to Capitol City, or wherever he was going. After searching the rest of the bedroom and coming up with nothing, he stood up straight and put a finger and thumb on his chin as he thought hard for moment. His eyes wandered until he his eyes landed on the thing he didn't even realise he was looking for.

A painting on the wall was tilted slightly, showing a slither of the wallpaper behind, which was a shade lighter, having been normally protected from dust when the frame was straight and in it's proper placement. "Aha." He went over and unhooked the painting off the wall, revealing... "Bingo." ...a safe.

Zell was no safecracker, but he did have a pretty good lockpick on his person. He drew his sword and held it with two hands in a stance that prepared for a stabbing attack. "Take Vor..." This would take some precision - a stab just above locking mechanisms, bringing the sword downwards as he withdrew. "...Baphomet."

<Sssing>

The quick, fluid motion. Razor sharp technique. Speed and precision. And of course, the steel alloy of dark iron and oricalchum went through the heavy safe like it was nothing.

Zell smiled darkly as he sheathed his sword and pulled the safe door open, the sliced metal lock-bolts falling and clattering on the wooden floorboards as he did so. And there were the prizes; a pouch full of platinum and gold, and a bunch of documents and envelopes. He sat down on the bed, using a pillow for his back, at the headboard, and putting his feet up, crossing an ankle over the other. Suddenly he got a... well, not a pain... but something... a feeling deep in his skull. It was strange, he couldn't do anything but put a hand to his temple as he was taken by it. Then the presence of Baphomet could be felt. As if the Devil was sat behind Zell eyes and watching the world through the Englishman's vision. This was a worrying development. Baphomet wasn't usually around until Zell was sleeping.

There was no time to contemplate the matter any further, as sounds could be heard coming from downstairs. Zell perked up. Someone had come in. And they were heading up the stairs.

"Crap." Zell looked around for a hiding spot and saw the wardrobe. He jumped off the bed and quickly went over, opening the doors and seeing the cramped little space. "Double crap." He was not fitting in there. Not quickly and quietly, at any rate. He had to get out of this room, but now the footsteps were closing in on this floor. It was the Ambassador!

After realising that hiding was not an option, Zell quickly decided on the kind of play he would make here. Fortunately, it was one from the playbook that fit his strengths. So, he quickly shut the bedroom door, went back to the bed and reassumed his relaxed demeanour with his feet up and a document in his hand. On the other side of the door, Zell could hear the Ambassador moving around his living room area, here and there, until finally the footsteps came closer to the bedroom. Zell pretended to be reading as the door opened and looked up with mild surprise, like one of those corny commercials. He even said the line. "Oh, hi. Didn't see you there. You must be wonderin-"

He didn't even get to finish his meme as the Ambassador, horrified, took a step backward and then turned to run. And turn he did, but he ran and bumped right into the chest of Zell who had teleported behind him, bouncing off the taller, heavier swordsman. Zell had only used his teleport twice in battle, (once by accident,) but since figuring it out, it was quickly becoming useful in non-combat situations too.

"Calm down, will ye," Zell said, as if offended that the man would react in such a way to finding some stranger sat on his bed. The Ambassador backed up, terrified and fell back on the bed into a sitting position. "Malcom? Or Mr Crane? No need to be alarmed. Remember me?"

Malcom Crane narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember. It took him but a brief moment and then his eyebrows slowly rose. Zell nodded slowly as the understanding dawned. The Ambassador was still confused. "Wha... What do you want?"

Zell folded his arms and leaned on the doorframe. "Well; when I found out, through my contacts, that the Thieves Guild had a secret, underground escape tunnel from the their headquarters to the outside of the city, my first thought was, 'Who is important enough to need safe passage out of this siege?'" he started. "Of course; not everyone is going to be able to use the tunnel. Not everyone has the money to pay, for one. And for two; if too many people start piling through the tunnel, the enemy is sure to catch on. So; who needs to go?" he half unfolded his arms to gesture about casually with a hand as he talked. Malcom just sat there, still alarmed but listening at least. "And that's when I thought of you. Of course. You have to survive. A man of your esteem? In your position? You have to make it back to Capitol City, if possible, to report on the situation. To lend your expertise and advice on how to proceed."

Zell walked over to the bed and sat next to Malcom Crane and sighed. "We need to get you out of here. And I see you've already figured things out with the Thieves Guild, you've got your bags packed and everything. Problem is, you've paid to use the tunnel... but whoever you've hired to be your bodyguard is a complete and utter waste of money." The Ambassador arched an eyebrow. Zell looked back at him, unperturbed. "If the enemy catch you, outside the city - trust me - your bodyguard is not going to stop them killing you all. You need a real fighter. Someone powerful. Someone saaaayyy.... from a party who slew Aurok the Maneater. Catch my meaning?"

After a moment to process everything, the Ambassador was slowly but surely falling for the pitch. And why not? It was probably true. But of course, with this all being highly illegal, the city official was on edge. "Why would you do this? What do you want out of it?"

"I want you safe. And once you're far enough away from Valhiem, I'll come back here and help defend the city. And, if I survive, maybe in the future, if there's a way you can help me, then you might be willing to return the favour." Zell shrugged, then nodded pointedly at the busted safe. "A small fee out of that sack of platinum wouldn't go amiss, too, if you're feeling generous. But mostly, just the friendship of a man in politics." Zell let him think for a few seconds before making the man's decision for him. He slapped his knee and stood up. "So... when are we leaving?"

"Ah.. err... tonight." And there was Malcom's answer and decision. Zell was pleased. It wasn't like the Ambassador could refuse, anyway. Zell was experienced in dealing with illegal activity. One advantage when extorting another criminal... they can't go to the police without ratting themselves out. Ell-oh-ell.

"Tonight? Alright, good," Zell said. "So long as whoever's in charge of the tunnel is going to let me back in, I'll be your escort. We'll get you a few hours away from Valhiem. If we can get on the West Road to the village of Cherrad, I think you'll be able to purchase a horse there. I'll be back in the city before dawn and nobody will have a clue what's happened. Job's a good'un."

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Zell had left his Sergeants under strict instruction to maintain a punishing endurance training regiment for the remainder of the day, telling the trainers that; the more Lions they could make vomit from exhaustion, the better. Then, in the last hour, they would all fight spar hard whilst drained, dizzy and weak from fatigue.

"Brothers. This afternoon will test your mettle. It's easy to be brave when you have energy. It's easy to be clever and quick. The true test of a soldier comes when he's dead on his feet. That is when lesser men lose heart. That is when lesser men break and beg for the end. Exhaustion is worse than pain. Pain can spur you onward. Exhaustion will do nothing but hold you back.

Remember this, at the end of today - familiarise yourself with what it feels like so you are ready for it, if it hits you in battle. Prepare your hearts and minds to carry your body through the heaviest weight a soldier can feel."

Zell would try to be back before the afternoon was over, but he didn't know how long his business at the summit of Citadel Mountain would take.

He made his way through the city and eventually started the climb up the mountain road. As he ascended, he looked out first at the beseiging enemy in the distance, then down to the city below. The top brass sure were cutting it close with how long they were taking to move the population up the mountain, he'd said as much to James and Adam one morning at breakfast. Zell thought it to be a bold risk - not necessarily incorrect, (it was more efficient this way,) but certainly an easier risk to take when one was already comfortable in the relative safety of the Citadel. He was pretty certain that the wealthier families of the Mayor and other City and Academy officials would already be up here.

"Captain Brooks. I'm looking for Ambassador Crane. We have a meeting at his accomadations, but I've forgotten where he's staying.............. Thanks."

Ambassador Crane. Zell had marked him as a target from the moment the man had opened his mouth at the midnight strategy meeting, the night when Second Chance first arrived back in Valhiem. He'd managed to get a little info about the man's job in the days since and confirmed to himself that Malcom Crane being a man of interest was justified. What the Englishman hadn't counted on was the bombshell that Devon had dropped on him, last night at the Brass Monkey. Zell wondered if Devon's intel and the Ambassador might be connected, and if so, to what end could Zell use this.

He found himself outside the Mayor's second home, in the small residential area on the edge of the Citadel. Apparently the Ambassador had a guest-floor of the place as his own living quarters, for the duration of his stay in Valhiem. With the Mayor often not there, this accomadation would be a pretty spacious and cozy arrangement. Probably not so much, right now, with the Mayor and his wife forced to live there too.

A guard was on the front entrance, which made sense, seeing as the Citadel would soon become extremely overcrowded the scared and desperate citizens. Zell was told that both the Mayor and the Ambassador were at the Central Bureau, so Zell nodded a goodbye to the guard and went on his way.

Or at least, he appeared to.

As soon as the guard was looking the other way, Zell was making a right turn into the narrow passage between two buildings and making his way back towards the Mayor's home. He found himself officially breaking the law at the point where he was climbing up the gutter of the house next door. This was not the brightest idea, Zell was not the stealthiest individual, nor was he high enough up to avoid being sighted by literally anyone who cared to look. Fortunately, there was nobody in the street.

Once level with the second floor windows of the Mayor's home, Zell looked through those windows, saw inside, then braced himself to jump.

Twelve yards.

Diving across the gap, Zell managed to get close enough to the window before teleporting to his sighted location inside, stumbling as he materialised in the house, and almost barreling into some furniture that would've made enough noise to alert the guard downstairs outside the door.

Zell didn't waste any time, quietly making his way to the top floor of the home. He searched through the Ambassador's accomadation, looking particularly for a connection to the Thieves' Guild, but also any documents or letters that might reveal secrets that were being kept from Second Chance or even Valhiem altogether.

@xenon

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"Captain?"

One thing about Baphomet - love him or hate him - was that: He was right more often than not.

Pretty upfront too, as a matter of fact. He made no secret of anything. He was not adverse to admitting that he was out to coerce Zell into being his champion. He did not deny being a malevolent force of destruction - took pride in it, even. He conceded that he'd probed every channel in Zell's mind for weakpoints and that he lacked the necessary knowledge to understand half of what he'd found, which was something that had never happened to him before, when preying on a mortal. And now he'd come to respect Zell and see that he would get nowhere if he did not discard his usual ensnarement tactics and treat the situation as what it was: The crossed paths of two equal entities.

But yes; Baphomet was right more often than not. He'd called Zell weak because the swordsman was completely devoid of magical affinity. He was right. He said that the Englishman needed him and would not be so stupid as to want to seal Baphomet's influence and thereby seal The Black Sword's enchantments. He was right. He told Zell that his ceiling of potential was of mythic proportions, but, without external help, narrowed to a specific speciality. He was right. And he was adamant that they were a perfect match for each other. As much as Zell didn't want to, he couldn't help but agree.

"Captain Brooks?"

It was like fate had brought them together. Their uniquely powerful abilities synergized beyond belief, with Ascension only furthering already-insane implications. And then there were the possible pieces to the puzzle, if Zell were to embrace his pact with Baphomet wholly. Most notably, he would be able to 'borrow' the Prince's incredible affinity for the Dark Domain, enabling him to learn magic and covering up his major weakness. And with Zell having already pried open a passage to the criminal underworld, there would be unregulated access to Dark Domain secrets at his fingertips. Zell's cunning, creativity and willingness to take titanic risks in high stakes situations was the exact recipe of traits required to maximise this advantage. A glimpse of the potential results had already been seen at the finale of the fight with Zigmund.

A combat god with the magical capability of a Prince of the Oblivion Plane? With a glitched-out Source Crytal, no less?

They were a perfect match indeed.

What was Baphomet getting out of all of this? An unrivalled champion who would exert his influence by way of destruction. Baphomet didn't care about what constituted good or evil on the mortal plane. He didn't care for the Witch Queen or the Empire. It just so happened that it was usually horrible degenerates who were willing to entreat with the Oblivion Plane, using the power to commit atrocities, or falling to the price of a curse by virtue of being too weak to handle it. If the good guys wanted to use Baphomet's power, it made no difference to him, so long as they wielded power in his name. Influence in the mortal plane was worth political capital in Hell. And life eseence was like currency. Baphomet saw in Zell, his most powerful partner ever. One who could help him dominate the other Voidling Princes for aeons. Neither Zell nor Baphomet had to care about eachother's world to make this partnership work extremely well for both of them.

Then why does this feel so bloody wrong? Zell wondered. Do the Quinity not do the exact same thing? Is devotion and worship not their currency and capital?

"Zell," Sergeant Rawls said loudly, once he neared.

Zell was shaken from his reverie, and looked both ways before setting eyes on the Lion. "Yeah?" The block was looking for direction on the next training exercise. "Oh. Err... this will be the last day for heavy endurance. So let's make it a good one."

Zell gave out orders and the training continued. He halfway-apologised for day-dreaming and tried to put his mind back in the present, hard as it was. Ironing out his thought process about Baphomet (whether delusional or not) was actually his way of getting away from the real problems that were plaguing him, weirdly enough. The truth was, he felt like he was losing the two people closest to him. MacKensie and him were barely talking, the Frenchwoman putting up a bare-minimum level of conversation and courtesy to him when around the group, as to not arouse suspicion. Ever since their 'non-date' - which had been an absolutely amazing night, followed by a complete fucking catastrophe of a morning - things hadn't been right between them. And then there was James, who was smart enough to figure out that Zell was not being honest about the Baphomet situation, which would illicit who-knows-what feelings in him towards Zell. Not to mention, the Mexicano was harbouring Second Chance's nemesis in the most complex entanglement of thoughts and feelings that were humanly possible. What was once ultimate, pure unadulterated trust for James, was now poisoned by paranoia, uncertainty and guilt.

The Baphomet situation would feel like such light work, if he could figure out a way to fix his relationships. Honestly, he'd give up his soul right now, if the Voidling Prince could solve his problems with MacKensie and James. Perhaps if he could just get this coming battle out of the way, then he would gladly see The Black Sword destroyed, if it was that which would truly help him. But he did need Baphomet for this battle. He was simply not good enough to face the mountainous task without him. Valhiem was on the line. Just one more battle.

What a clusterfuck.

"Are you feeling alright, Zell?"

"Huh? What? Oh. Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Just err... a bit tired, mate. No excuse, though. Let me jump in this training session! Show you lot how it's done, eh! That'll wake me up! Oorah!"

Just one more battle... I sound like a fucking drug addict. Do I really have this under control? Am I delusional?

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

Last night had been arranged 48hrs in advance. The Thieves Guild was a pretty big establishment - big enough that it was never 'too busy.' Well, The Lions had put this notion to the test. All one hundred of them had descended on the place, filling the beer garden outside and a significant portion of the inside too. Zell had been prudent enough to warn the owners of this coming avalanche of patrons, so extra waitresses, barmen and bouncers were on shift. Still, it was all hands on deck and chaotic in the infamous tavern that night.

"We are The Lions,
Hear us roar.
The rabbits pounce,
The falcons soar.

The wolves will bite,
The bats will swarm.
But we are The Lions,
Hear us Roar.

OORAH! OORAH! OORAH!
OORAH! OORAH! OORAH!
We are The Lions,
Hear us roar!"

OORAH! OORAH! OORAH!
OORAH! OORAH! OORAH!
We are The Lions,
Hear us roar!"

Biff, Chip and Kipper didn't join in for the fifteenth verse of the tavern song that had been composed by Smithy, a Lion with a talent for drumming and pretty decent singing voice. The fact she had made up the song, right on the spot, was impressive to say the least. It was catchy and easy to remember, making it the new theme song for the family. Biff, Chip and Kipper were happy to sing it, but it was time for a break. There would be others not yet bored of singing, who would continue on without them and, no doubt, the song would still be going in one section or another, when the three men were ready to join back in.

"Ha, look at Kipper," Chip laughed. "The runt's wasted."

Kipper was swaying on his seat, a big goofy grin on his face. The young lad was an emergency draftee - barely into his adulthood and a total novice with a sword, but it was just like Captain Zell had said: He was the bravest Lion in the family, considering the context. He was no soldier but had stepped up to answer the call of his city, a deed worthy of great respect.

Biff, the longest serving Lion of the three, smiled and put his arm around Kipper. "This is your first time drinking, ain't that right, lad?"

Kipper nodded. "I've had a beer before." He hiccuped. "But never this many."

Biff and Chip laughed. "Aye, we'll get you a wench tonight, you'll be a man grown afore you step to the enemy, make no mistake."

"I'm not a man," Kipper shot back. "I'm a Lion! Oorah!"

"Oorah!" the other two returned in chorus, then practically dived on Kipper with congratulatory affection, giving him a headlock and tussling his hair.

...

Meanwhile, Zell who was working the room, making sure everyone was having a good time, spotted his face-tatted friend and contact to Valhiem's underworld.

He appeared next to Devon at the bar. "Alright, mate."

"Baby-face." Devon looked offended, but not because of Zell. "By the forked fucking beard of Hades, what is going on in here, tonight?"

Zell chuckled. "Bit busy, ain't it."

"Just a bit, aye." Devon got the beer he ordered from one of the three overworked men serving customers. He held the tankard as he turned about to lean back on the bar. "There's nowhere to bloody sit."

Zell mirrored Devon and put his back to the bar, elbows on the counter-top. "These are my lads, from the military garrison. I'm a Captain now, don't ye know. And we are The Lions."

"Yeah, yeah, hear us roar, I fucking got the message, the first fifty times." They both laughed. "Captain eh. You sure like to get around. And I've been hearing word about you and your party, Second Chance."

"Oh yeah?" Zell inquired coolly. Devon confirmed that Second Chance's name was everywhere. From the underworld to the wealthy lords. He also let slip, as he spoke of his new bodyguard gig, that he wasn't going to be around for much longer. "What do you mean? Where you going?"

"Uh, shit," Devon cursed. "I can't say. Said too much already."

Zell wondered for a second, then put two and two together. "Look, if you've got a way out of here, makes no difference to me, mate. Didn't you say that you were from down south? Valhiem's not entitled to your loyalty. I don't give a fuck what you do. And I'd be happy to look the other way, for a friend. I'm just fucking curious, is all." Devon glanced at Zell before his eyes returned to the taproom. The singing still hadn't completely died down. "Come on, Devon. Spill the tea, will ye."

"Fine. But you keep this quiet, alright..."

Devon leaned towards Zell to talk quietly closer to his ear. Zell leaned in too. The words between them were muted under the ambience. Zell nodded as he listened, then suddenly went wide-eyed...

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

ambassador crane is a traitor and a spy. you heard it here first

THE WAR FOR MYTHERIA - Isekai Adventure

"Yes, I believe my block are a good bunch. They vary in skill, but I cannot fault their heart or their work ethic."

"Yeah," Zell agreed. "Got a similar situation meself."

He nodded along as he listened to MacKensie's day. He was glad she'd found someone that would help her out, but truth be told, he was confident that she had all the qualities required to take full charge, if she was really pushed. MacKensie was a well-rounded woman - skills, brains, aura, heart... she was better than 'a mouthpiece.' But it was only the first day on the job. Zell had a feeling she would find her unique voice, for her soldiers, in the week ahead.

"I am to lead the block because of my strength as a Crystal Bearer. This, I can do. But I would be wrong not to delegate control of our days leading up battle, to my more experienced Sergeants."

"Well," Zell started, folding his arms. "Knowing when and where to delegate is an aspect of good leadership. It takes keen sight to see the strengths of those around you. And wisdom to take advantage of that. But listen; don't be too quick to take a back seat to experience, all the time. All the experience in the world hasn't won these dudes a single battle yet, you get me?" He quickly checked over his shoulder to make sure Gildor was out of earshot. He'd rather not offend the blacksmith - a man who was keeping the secret of The Black Sword under wraps. "We've been brought to this world because they're all so bloody lost, they'd put trust in lottery-picked randomers from the universe next door."

That was the best way he could put it, without getting all corny about her 'having a hidden power within her heart' or some shit like that. He did want to say 'some shit like that' though. Ell-oh-ell.

"How about you?" she asked before smiling as she assumed, "I'm sure you got along just fine, no?

"Ha! You know me too well, darlin." Zell was all teeth with the closed-eyes grin he flashed. "My guys and gals have proved quite... what's the word... receptive, to my err, infectious confidence." He laughed as he thought about the day. "I just wish I had more time. When the time comes for The Lions to show their worth, our roar will drown out the din. Mark my words." He heard Gildor come back and wheeled around to pay for his shield. "Thanks, Gilly, bruv."

As Zell went to take the shield, Gildor pulled it away and looked extremely serious. "Never. Call me that. Again." Zell froze up for a second. "That's two things you cannot call me. 'Your friend' and especially not 'Gilly.' Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, boss." Zell held out his hands for the shield and Gildor held on for a further moment to stamp home the point, then handed it over and stepped away to sort out the money. Zell peeked at MacKensie and shot her the look of a cheeky schoolboy in trouble. It was then that his mind reminded him of what he'd thought when he first walked into the shop: MacKensie was dressed in casual clothes, looking extra amazing (she looked regular amazing even in ripped up Ranger gear.) It made him think of an idea he'd had a while ago, back when touring Valhiem for the first time.

What was that place called again? Zell thought. The Nightingale, that's it.

"Err..." Light-speed thinking - engaged. "Gildor, any chance I could trouble you to do a little job on my armour? Just a dent or two needs knockin out. A bit of a clean. Nothing too much." Gildor looked Zell up and down, then nodded and gave him a small price. Zell agreed. "You're a star, bruv. Do you mind if I jump in the back and take it off now?"

Gildor led Zell into the back and the Englishman stripped his armour pieces off, leaving himself in just his black trousers and white shirt, which he proceeded to rub down with his hands, trying to iron out the creases. He popped his collar a few times to give it some volume, then turned it down neatly and proceeded to start messing with his hair a bit. "Gildor, could you err... spare a belt strap for my sword. So I can where it on my hip?" Gildor narrowed his eyes at Zell's lowered tone. Or maybe it was mention of The Black Sword. Either way, his reply was that he was adding it to the price. Zell winked at him as he undid his the top button of his shirt. "Cheers mate."

Zell finally emerged from the back room, looking a little bit like a pirate, but definitely more suitably presentable to walk up those fancy steps to The Nightingale.

"All set?"

MacKensie reiterated her gratitude for Gildor's help and bid him a good evening, so that she and Zell could take their conversation outside. Zell too thanked the blacksmith and let him know that he would return tomorrow for his armour. "I'm eager to know what James and Adam have been up to."

"Yeah, should be interesting to hear about their day," Zell agreed. It wasn't lost on Zell that the military garrison was completely bereft of magic users. Perhaps The Academy had it's own Defence Division. Zell hadn't heard any information to say either way.

"I wouldn't expect them to be on the front lines, but I still have no idea how the magic-wielding forces will be deployed. The flexibility of James with his blessings and Adam with his plants, will be boundless. A keen strategist's dream, I imagine."

"Oh jeez, Adam and James might, alone, be the turning point of this battle." The warm breeze was nice and after spending day-after-day in armour, Zell always felt so light and free without it on. Being with MacKensie always lightened the mood too. "I can see it now. Adam goes Bear-mode, starts throwing giant trees, firing laser beams and whatever else. Saladin has his most powerful cronies charge. James chants some wildly random blessing that turns the bad guys into clucking hens and Adam to double his size." The visual was hilarious for Zell, especially as he imagined, "Sil flys into the picture, swipes up a chicken and flys off with it." He laughed. "Seriously though, magic is wihout-doubt gonna be a decisive factor in this battle. Especially our two lads." Zell shook his head with awe as he thought about just how powerful Adam and James had proven to be. "Their impact will be immense."

Zell was sure to take a subtle lead when the time came to turn towards the street that would head towards The Mended Drum, instead he headed towards the roads on the other side of the river. "Just making a quick detour," would be his excuse if she questioned their direction.