Netori: Stealing The Hero's Party!

Chapter 951: A God’s Wrath - Part 1

The city of Aurum, where the consulate rises every day as the dragon head overseeing the structure of one amongst myriad nations serving the god of law–the day after the hero’s arrival–burned with smoke and echoed with the shrieks of enemies. Set aflame were the outer farmlands, and the farmers were butchered alongside the soldiers guarding the consulate’s territory.

News of their murder arrived long after the soot from burnt farms had settled on the white borders of the city. The messengers–or the messenger who was dead on arrival and yet managed to carry himself on his trusted steed possessed a letter detailing in blood and frenzied words exactly what had happened. He was quickly taken in for a proper burial, but the news of the butchery traveled to the queen much later.

Rumors of her last night being seen going to and heard from the hero’s room were already flooding the streets. The sun had yet to reach its peak, and her fealty was under captious scrutiny. On one hand, the people wondered if she was playing a ploy, luring the supposed savior with her otherworldly charm. On the other hand, such eagerness to sleep with the enemy was seen as more than an intoxicated fling.

Betrayal and lies from a dark elf set on a pedestal by none other than the god himself, whom she had now defied. Why would she throw away her greatest ally in a city full of her enemy race? Why would she try to make peace with the hero and his army? A war with them would’ve never gone their way; even so, their god demanded it.

Such sentiments were at war in every corner of Aurum streets. At last, however, the gathering of military leaders rushed to the inn where half of the consulate members were staying. The brisk arrival of a hundred and twenty men on horses snapped every man, woman, and child in the city out of their morning stupor, and the consulate members were no exception.

Waking in bed surrounded by nobody, Joselia spared but a moment to remember last night and wonder if it had all been a dream. Alas, the proof of her arrival between the legs proved otherwise, and yet, the constant screaming of her title from outside by the soldiers forced her to push those thoughts away.

Getting dressed–as did the other two–she rushed downstairs and was shocked to find Raven and his party already scattered at the lower level. The civilians and soldiers were casually having a meal while the hero and his companions were standing by the door, and from the sounds of it, locked in some form of conversation.

”A barbarian woman, a half giant, a shaman and a mad man, you say?” Still in her morning delirium, Joselia approached the hero from behind with great reservation. His eyes were locked with a scar-marked regiment chief, rugged as his bristled beard and overly wrinkled at the baggy, dark eyes. ”Looks like your god has sent us a chance at revenge on these bastards.”

”You know these people?” The chief’s vision flickered to Joselia and the rest, but his curiosity topped his need to report to a higher officer. ”Who are they? And what do you mean our god sent them?”

”You weren’t expecting Hamleth to leave you as is after you abandoned him as your god, did you?” Waving dismissively to not even give the man any time to mull over the question, Raven quickly moved to the more important aspect of the conversation. ”I’ve not directly met these people, but they’ve ruined one of our allied cities. And from what I know, these savages serve a goddess called Wolcenya. Not for long; we have a score to settle, so just point me out, and we’ll deal with them ourselves.”

”Wait a moment.” Before the chief could answer, Brien stepped forward from the back and placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder. ”We have twelve thousand soldiers to deal with stuff like this. An invasion, or am I wrong, Fauster?”

”Yes, my lord. A savage tribe has burned most of our farms and their caretakers–”

”Our farms?!” Haurum screamed, rushing to the front, but neither Raven nor Brien would let him past them. Grabbing the men by their shoulders, he peeked over from between the two. ”What do you mean our farms are gone?! Do you have any idea how much–”

Grabbing him by his shirt, Joselia pulled him away and screamed.

”Don’t you dare! Not right now; we can assess the damages later!” Glaring daggers at the lord, knowing full well how he was supposed to profit from the leased lands, it took everything in her power to stop herself from slapping the man. ”Fauster! How did this happen! What were the outpost guards doing, counting bihorns?!”

Her voice stern as lash straightened the soldiers’ spines–even their leader tensed up a little, for in the end, Joselia still remained the highest authority in Aurum. Forcing past the draw to lie, Fauster explained the sequence of events, including the hesitation in his party, albeit discounting the rumors and distrust in Joselia’s motives.

”What...” Astounded by the utter incompetence of her underlings, Joselia’s eye bore into him–hollow of judgement yet full of disbelief in what she’d just heard. ”By the quill, what were you fools doing? Waiting so long to inform me!”

”My lady–”

”Prepare the cavalry and the mounted great bows! Enough talking!” Glancing at the hero, she sighed. ”We will keep the enemy off our walls; I hope you’d make strides so we don’t have to scrub blood off them.”

Confidently pushing past the two men, Joselia closed her eyes, and in a flash her body was surrounded by glistering violet smoke. As her eyes opened again, her body had lifted off the ground and was riding the smoke. Pinning Fauster in her gaze again, she narrowed her brows and declared.

”Enough gawking! To the gates!” And thus began Joselia’s morning–preparing for battle against servants of a god loyal to Hamleth.