《Kingdom: To Rebuild the Lost》 Desperation The King stooped over the gilded table. Strewn across its wide expanse were maps of his territory, little clay men standing on certain towns and forts across his kingdom. Other maps lay over his territory, missives sent by his spy¡¯s telling of his rivals¡¯ movements. Other books lay open, tallies of his treasury, his grain stores, the names, and payments that were to go to his liege lords, blackmailers, tithes, and mercenaries. He was rapidly running out of funds. The king knew that soon he would need to start selling nobility to the merchants, or even worse allow his blackmailers to air his secrets. The king knew that he was going to die soon. Of the few nobles that he had, at least half wanted him to ennoble various peoples, so that those nobles may have more loyal servants. Other nobles did not want any ennoblement at all to happen, wanting their taxes and serfs to not be divided as new nobles were created. The king took his dull metal mug (the glass and golden one having been sold some months back) and took a gulp of his servants¡¯ beer. He hated the stuff, the taste was too bitter, the alcohol both too apparent and at once not strong enough. He hated what it meant, that he was no longer able to even buy the cheep wine that merchants sold to the freemen. The sting of the bubbles condemning him to poverty, the smell twisting to the smell of the rope that would soon circle his neck. His country would soon be in war with his neighbors, not even the alliance that he sacrificed his daughter to secure was safe. She was probably even a reason why they were being so bold to garrison troops on the boarder. With one of his daughters as a wife to a noble it allowed then to create a casus belli to take his lands as theirs. No, with a roar the king swept everything to the ground in a loud crash. He strained and flipped the table. A book started to catch fire from one of the candles the rolled on the floor. A servant came and smothered the fire. The king turned and slapped the servant across the face, the kings heavy signet rings cutting the face of the servant. Blood pored from their face, the kings rage quickly turned back to the extremely expensive maps coated in beer, now serf blood as well. The king trampled and kicked the journals, stomping on the clay figures. Anger, rage, and desperation clinging onto him. He knew that there were many options available to him, calling his liege lord to help. But the help would either be denied or given too late to make a difference. That is if a messenger even was able to make it to his liege. Another was to give land and wealth to his attacker. That course of action would give all of his nobles even more of a reason to rebel and assassinate him, not to mention that he was barley surviving on the land that he had now, much less what placating his rival would leave him with. After which being in such a weekend state some other king would see him as too week to defend what he had and take the rest away.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. He could ennoble many other freemen and add to his army and fight his rival. But the time it would take to raise and arm them would not be quick enough. That¡¯s not even thinking about how his nobles who already supply most of his troops would react. He could press the serfs into service, but again not enough time, and it was about to be harvest season. The time when he needed every man woman and child in the fields creating food to last the winter, creating food to give to him, creating food to sell. No pressing the serfs into the army may win him this battle but would kill him in the next. He could find and employ more mercenaries¡­ If he had the money, which as any of his creditors would tell you he doesn¡¯t. Not even the allure of loot from battle would help him, after all they only care about coins. If they come from him or a rival does not matter. Hell, the mercenaries would probably contract with him, then contact his rival for more coin, then stand aside in the battle for his forces to be smashed only to loot his army of any thing valuable. The king was stuck. He had no move to make but one. One move that would banish him to the depths of hell should it work. For all he knows enacting this plan would destroy his soul even if it failed. The king stopped smashing and stomping around his war room. The loyal servant stood, cloth on his cheek to stymie the blood. The king turned to the servant, breath heavy from his rage. ¡°Wake the sorcerer and tell him that we are going to enact the ritual.¡± The servant quickly left to attend to the task. The king paused waiting for his servant to leave before he kneeled in prayer. ¡°Lord I beg of you, please guide my hand. Please lead me to my salvation. I need your help my lord, for without you my soul will be destroyed. I beg and plead with thy to grant me this boon. To allow my soul to suffer if only to allow for my kingdom to survive.¡± He whispered. The king made his way down to the dungeon. Not a dungeon, where prisoners would be kept. He went to THE dungeon, the sole reason why this kingdom existed. This room contained ancient magics. These magics were what allowed his great ancestors to dominate the lands much farther than his current liege lord could even imagine. But as time grew his family fell far from favor, assassinations, rebellions, rival nations all came to destroy them. And so, his family pled to others for strength, his once powerful family with hundreds of direct vessels now was a vassal them self. This fall was not the king¡¯s fault. Nor was it any one person¡¯s fault, just a series of circumstances forcing the hands of his ancestors to choose one bad decision over any other decision. Just as he was doing right now. The room was large. Built to contain large boxes of metal, that no scholar, or metal worker has ever been able to identify. These boxes also had many different cylinders of all shapes and sizes of the clearest glass imaginable. One broken off from the ritual cubes could pay for all of his expenses for years. But no matter how he tried, how any of his ancestors have tried, none of the glass could even be scratched, much less broken. Boxes upon boxes linked together by even more mysterious metal ropes all sounded a raised mysterious metal disk. The broken plaster on the walls surrounding the ritual magic attesting to the many centuries of abandonment. This is where the king stood waiting for his chief sorcerer to appear before him. To Summon a Demon Prologue: Mistakes The sorcerer was rudely shaken awake. His dream about the wonders of the local noble ladies stopped. He groggily opened his eyes to see a king¡¯s servant standing above him. Hand clutching a bloody rag to his cheek. The servant pail from blood loss. This shocked the sorcerer awake immediately, were the combatants at the gate? Was the king assassinated? Was he to be assassinated? Why was there a bloodied servant in the middle of the night there to get him? The sorcerer sprang to his feet, nightclothes and beard ruffled and unkempt. ¡°What! What is the matter! Are the enemies here!¡± The sorcerer shouted a raspy voice fresh from sleep. ¡°Calm, sir Benedictions, the king is in a rage, and asked for you.¡± The calm servant assuage the frightened sorcerer. ¡°The King awaits in THE Dungeon.¡± The sorcerer, calmed from his fright, immediately felt his stomach fall. His entire life, the entirety of his family, going as far back as the Kings ancestors, job was to prepare, and operate the ritual. A ritual that has only been done one time in the millennia that the Kingdom has been around. The sorcerer despondently dressed in his ceremonial robes. It took time to get all of his vestments on himself, by himself. Needing to remember the correct layers, where all of the little trinkets go, finding all the hidden buttons and ties. His fingers shook, making every precise action take much longer then it should have. At least an hour later, to him just felt like a precious few minutes he was properly attired. Ready to fulfill the most sacred duty he will ever partake. He made his way down from his apartment to The Dungeon. The Dungeon, was a place that his father had always taught him to treat with reverence. Even more so than the tabernacle on the alter at the church. His father always impressed upon the sorcerer just how magnificent this ritual room was. His father died, just as all of his predecessors do, young and from the wasting daemons. He stood before the door, a think heavy beast that required enormous strength to open, even when the hidden hinges were well oiled. The door was already opened, he stopped and looked into the ritual chamber. His king stood rooted to the spot, not moving. The kings dyed red robes hanging from his gaunt shoulders dragging on the floor, the servant that was tasked to ensure it did not drag nowhere to be found. The walls of the chamber climbing many spans tall. The room was so spacious just whispers could be heard seconds after they were uttered, as if the spirits of his ancestors were mocking him and everybody that made their way into the room. The plaster on the walls, once pristine with elaborate paintings of the exploits of the First King of Legend, were now ruins. Flaking and falling, it gave this revered room a dilapidated and haunted look. The consequences of its activation apparent. Once glorious splendor to only fall to ruin. The ritual components themselves covered in dust and plaster flakes. Thick and white, needing to be cleaned before the ritual is to be enacted. One thing that always made the sorcerer pause was the absence of any insect or spider. The ubiquitous cobweb that was decorated all over the castle was nowhere to be seen. The ritual boxes were varied in size some towering almost to the top of the vaulted ceiling, some smaller than the span of his hand. Some boxes were weird shapes, looking like the alphabet only in box form. All of the boxes were connected to each other with thick metal ropes, his father taught him the proper method of connecting them and ensuring that each rope was secure in each slot. Glass domes appeared sporadically on every box, his father telling of the magnificent fae lights that would appear when the ritual would commence. The sorcerer stood next to the king, ¡°It will take time to prepare, my Lord.¡± The sorcerer said quietly, reverently. ¡°Make it happen as soon as possible, Benedictus, this is the only option I have. I need this to work.¡± ¡°Yes, my Lord. I shall ready the ritual at once and retrieve you as soon as it is possible to do so.¡± The King stood, staring at the central dais where the ritual would magic a man into existence. Magics beyond that any pope or profit could comprehend would be used. A man of such ability would come and help him lead his kingdom to heights level if not eclipsing those of his ancestors. At least that is what the sorcerer hoped would happen. --- Days later the ritual was ready. The sorcerer commanding a legion of maids to dust every nook and cranny. In all honestly it only took a handful of hours to complete that task. The actual bottleneck of the entire process was ensuring that each rope was properly aligned, properly attached, and hung in a specific way. The only person alive that could do such a task was himself. His sun a boy of 3 winters was much too young to be taught the intricacies of such a ritual. As the king stepped into the hallowed ground, he had his large entourage. His generals, his loyal nobles, his un-loyal nobles, the decorated honor guard, servants, minstrels, bards. The entire retinue followed into the room. The cavernous space dominated as it was by the ritual was not able to hold all of the hanger-on¡¯s of the king. As it were only the King, the sorcerer, the General, and the Head of the Royalists were able to be in the space. Everyone else waited beyond the door.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Sorcerer Benedictus, start the ceremony.¡± The stern command of the King boomed and echoed around the space. The Sorcerer started to pray, as the ceremony dictated, ¡°Oh powerful lord on high, look away from this perversion of faith. Look not to this heathen as he casts his eternal soul into the hellfire. My Lord, the Magnificent, as you turn your head lend your hand to pluck an avatar of wisdom, a body of metal and brink him here. Bring him here for the salvation of his condemned man, bring him here so this Kingdom can survive and further bring glory to your name. Oh, my Lord, help, I beg of thy o grant a boon, a boon to ensure that this hedonistic ritual will complete. All praise to you my Lord.¡± With the prayer uttered, the sorcerer brought his hand to the glass panel, with his other hand he grabbed the right hand of the King, divested him of the numerous rings and brought the hand to rest next to his on the glass. A compartment opened up blow class, two needles sprung forth, piercing the wrists of both king and sorcerer. And as suddenly as it appeared the needle retracted to its hole. Seconds passed, the sorcerer wary that his life would be for naught, sweat pored from his body, unseen because his numerous vestments hiding his shame. When a fae light flickered on the glass, the sorcerer knew that his life was not in vain. The light flickered, as if possessed by demons from beyond time. Then a voice, the voice of a demon itself commanded, ¡°state the requirements,¡± spoken in an ancient language that¡¯s meanings were lost to time. The Sorcerer in repeating the first line of the ritual said, ¡°password, xc385thst+/q_! ,¡± the gibberish stated were accepted by the demons, as many more glass panels glowed with fire from hell itself, all of the glass domes illuminated with spirits of the dead. Bright lights in all colors, white, green, red, even purple lights, with even more that there were no names to describe glowed. An apparition appeared at eye level with the King. Ancient script flashed before his eyes. The sorcerer stood knowing what was to happen next, but unable to move his body due to the demons. Definitely from the demons not the fright at seeing hell itself appear in his home. Once the apparition stopped flashing and settled on a single image it was again time for the sorcerer to continue his part of this ritual. ¡°Oh, great and powerful demons I beseech thy, grant unto me a man most powerful and wise to lead us through this time. He must be wise beyond his years, he must be able to fight for days on end, he must have all the intellect of the greatest libraries, and he must be able to lead a kingdom from ruin to attain heights never before seen!¡± the sorcerer took a breath, this next part was entirely in the ancient language of the demons, ¡°execute command priority 1, specifications, prime male host, extended life span, eidetic memory, Locate persons from all time with such specification: adept with command, strategic, able to restore lost glory, adept at politics, with knowledge of history¡± in a daze he completed the final part of the ritual. Now all he needed to do was to wait for a hero to appear on the dais. There was a small drip of blood coming from the hole that the ritual gave to him. The drip counted the time, as hours passed, lunch had come and gone as the fae lights danced and changed enrapturing all who saw them. As hunger pains clawed at the bellies of all those in the chamber the lights stopped flashing, they all changed to a red pulsing light a whistle chimed hurting the ears of all who witnessed. The heavy door started to close by itself almost smashing a duke who nimbly danced back into the arms of his comrades on the outside of the chamber. Now locked in the chamber the King and his abbreviated entourage stood transfixed as lightening from hell sparked and crackled over every ritual box, every rope humming and glowing from the heat of hell that it was channeling. The dial once thought to be only a platform instead were concentric rings nestled inside one another. Now they all spun with such speed swinging around as if to create a sphere of metal and death fire and light pulsed inside the sphere. All of the fae lights on the boxes switched from a blood red to such a vibrant green it would put spring leaves to shame. The rings swung faster, the wind stirring up dust that the maids could never reach, the lightening jumping from one box to another now all arched to the rings. The screams of hell louder than even a fully armed and manned cavalry charge screaming to everyone. The Nobles ears started to bleed from the noise, the General¡¯s hands were pressed to his head in vain. The King and Sorcerer stood knees shaking blood dribbling from both their wrists and nose. A shape was starting to form in the sphere. A man holding his knees to his chest. First bone was constructed, then the offal and other guts were formed. Muscle was created blood poring from the form being immediately evaporated as it was being created. Last a skin was stretched coming from the belly, wrapping over all of the muscles. Black hair was formed coating his head and his body also covered hair black as night. The lightening was not coming in a continuous stream, small bursts of light came as the heavy rings slowed their madness finally coming to a rest. The fae lights once a blinding light slowly darkened as the spirits of the dammed stopped helping. In the center of the dais stood a man. The man was tall. Standing more than 2 span he would be the tallest man in court if not the country. His muscles were a bulging perfection perfectly shaped as if an incubus created a man to tempt all being, be they man or woman. His even pail complexion seemed to glow even in the dark. The candles snuffed out by the wind from the rings, started to magically spark back to life. The demon¡¯s eyes opened, his eyes white with black pupils. He stood there, face questioning, almost asking why he was summoned to this plain of existence. ¡°Oh, Glorious Hero! We have summoned thy to help this once great kingdom to rise again from the ashes it has now fallen to! Oh, wise Demon chosen by the Lord I beseech you to help reclaim what has been lost!¡± The king boomed once again; these were his first words since he commanded the start of the ritual. Then the demon spoke, his voice was that of falling rubble, but he was quiet, as if unsure of how loud to command these mortals. ¡°Where am I. Why did you take me! Where is my Family! I swear to all that is holy if you hurt them, I WILL DESTROY ALL THAT YOU CHERISH!¡± What is there to lose Chapter 3 The Meanings of life ¡°POP POP POP POP POP POP!¡± The child screamed. The boy jumping in place, light blond hair standing straight up in a cowlick, blue eyes wide with excitement. He pointed over in the distance at a rollercoaster. The Behemoth, a metal coaster that boasts the most tuns and inversions ever. The rollercoaster that the little boy has already ridden at least ten times today. ¡°Hay, bud, your grandpappy can¡¯t ride any more coasters for right now. You¡¯ve beaten me, you little rascal!¡± the older man lay on the bench, face green, silver hair in even more of a mess then his grandchild. He clutched his heart, his pacemaker has been going off so much today, it has to be losing its charge. The boy shifted from being excited about going on the ride again, to consoling his pop, in a way that only a rightfully spoiled child can. ¡°Hay, pop, if you¡¯re not feeling like you want to ride, then you can stay here while I go ride it myself. I¡¯m a man now! I¡¯m tall enough now to go alone!¡± The boy stretched to his impressive 48-inch height, puffing out his slim chest, fists confidently on his hips. Seeing his grandson posing like a little superhero, drew a laugh from the old man. The pain in his chest now from laughing too hard. ¡°Sure, Sure. You can go on the ride again but take Andrew with you.¡± The boy walked confidently to the impeccably dressed man standing a few feet away. As the kid led Andrew away for another go on The Behemoth, Johns wife sat next to him. ¡°Honey, you know you should do more exercise.¡± The old women told her husband. John shimmied over until he could lay his head on her thigh. John smiled up at her, taking in her lustrous black hair, and her smooth tanned skin. She was not the beauty he married all those years ago, but she has aged better than a fine wine. As John was admiring his wife, she stuffed a chili dog into his mouth (he may have been starting to drool.) ¡°Pervert.¡± ¡°Yes, Yes I am.¡± John tried to smirk around the hot dog. It didn¡¯t work out that well. His wife started to munch on a second one. Aira, blushed then scowled. John looked around and saw his granddaughter skipping up to them. The head of a large rainbow unicorn flopping around. A prize won from some stall, probably from one of John¡¯s bodyguards. ¡°Hay little angle!¡± John turned toward his cute little granddaughter. Her Blond locks jumping in time with her skipping. Unicorn hugged close, squeezing all the stuffing into the glittery horn. The girl bounced next to her grandfather, chessboard smile for all to see. ¡°POP! Lizzy threw a baseball soooooo hard that all the glass bottles all broke! Then the mean guy, started yelling about some bad words that Lizzy said not to say. Then Lizzy showed her gun. Then the mean guy got scared. Then Lizzy let me pick out a stuffed animal. Then I saw the most awesome animal! Do you know what it was!¡± the fountain of words spilled haphazardly, and with great gusto, and extremely loudly (to Johns displeasure). ¡°I don¡¯t know my little angle. Was it a unicorn?¡± John smiled at the girl. He really truly loved the little ball of sunshine, but her volume nob was always turned to eleven. ¡°NO! IT was a huge bunny! It was even bigger than me! I wanted to take it, but Lizzy said that it would be hard to carry! But I said that we could just put it in the car! But then she said that Tommy wouldn¡¯t have a place to sit! Then I said that we could just put him on the roof! Tommy would agree!¡± Eliza excitedly continued, barely pausing for breath. Lizzy stood off to the side, trying hide a small smirk on her face. ¡°Eliza, darling, you know we can¡¯t put your brother on the roof.¡± Aira gently told her granddaughter. Aira, finished with her hotdog, tossed the messy wrapper onto her husbands chest. Kneeling next to her granddaughter and pulling her into a hug. ¡°Why would we let him ride on the roof when it would be so much fun to make him sit with the bunny all the way home?¡± she loudly whispered into Eliza¡¯s ear. His granddaughters smile beautiful smile transformed into something evil. Eliza bounced away, clutching a stuffed animal in one hand, an old devil in the other. Lizzy trailed behind both, not even trying to hide her big smirk. John was one alone again, well as alone as he could possible be. Three of bodyguards are watching both him, and the surrounding area. He knew all of their names: Jimmy, Bob, Candice. All were veterans honorably discharged, turned mercenary, turned highly paid bodyguard. They needed something that they were good at, which included fighting, guarding, or weightlifting. They chose guarding, and he chose them out of the other hundreds of other applicants. He didn¡¯t mind always being watched, after all, whatever happened to him would be worldwide news. It always was for the extremely rich. Johns companies, well, the monopolies that his companies command generated more money then most other countries. He tried to run a company ethically at first, but that had got him nowhere. In order for him to be nice, he first needed to have the money to be nice. And so that is what he did. He used all of his acumen to gather wealth, always with the intention of spending it to make the world a better place. But, buying yachts, private jets, islands, amusement parks, and whatever else was his fancy, always seemed to put philanthropy on the back burner. Which was why he and his family was at this amusement park. His plan was to enjoy it, then buy it out, and turn it into something that would help others. He didn¡¯t know exactly what it would be turned into, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn¡¯t care. John knew that he had the money to waste, and even if he bought the park for 150% more than the asking price (which was already extremely generous), it wouldn¡¯t even put a dent in the pocket money that his grandson carried. John stood, at least what he considers standing nowadays. His once attritive six-foot frame now bent to five foot six. What seemed like all of his bones cracked, his knees hurt from standing (or now that he thought of it, just existing) his back ached from the stone bench he laid on. His crooked fingers wrapped around his gold and platinum decorated carbon fiber cane. His clothes that would bankrupt most anyone, stained from his wife¡¯s hot dog trash. Jimmy came forward and offered an elbow which John took. Now steady they set off to find his grandson.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. -- When John arrived at The Behemoth, he spotted Tommy and Andrew in the front of the coaster. Nobody else is at the park except a few of the employees. After all, if you can¡¯t screen all of the guests to ensure that they are not kidnappers or serial killers, then it¡¯s easier to close the park for the day just for this little outing. It wasn¡¯t as fun without some people to watch, but it definitely cut down on the wait times for everything. Which John knew Tommy and Eliza loved. After Tommy rode The Behemoth at least ten more times. ¡°POP, I¡¯m huuuuuungry! I want a funnel cake!¡± Tommy begged his grandfather. Not wanting to disappoint the hungry child John acquiesced. Wondering the park, following their nose to find the sweet treat the group also found the girls. They were just wondering the park, probably concocting schemes to make Johns life just that much more exciting and stressful. Lizzy¡¯s face still openly sporting a smirk, a twinkle in her eyes, knowing just exactly what was being planned. After much wondering, and then berating to look at a map, John finally completed his quest to get a funnel cake for his lovely grandson¡­ And granddaughter, and wife, and 5 bodyguards, and himself. As everyone sat at a picknick table near a fountain, the cool mist making everyone (read not Aira or Eliza) sticky from some ¡°accidentally¡± spilled sugar. John saw a bold of lightening flash in the sky. He thought it was odd to see such lighting on such a beautiful clear day but thought nothing of it as Aira blew a straw wrapper into his open mouth. This caused uproarious laughter from everyone below the age of 70 and everyone over the age of 70 to glare at their 69 year old wife. A second more noticeable bolt of lightening flashed across the sky. A peel of thunder stopped all laughter, replacing it with anxiety and fright. Looking toward his wife who was always deathly afraid of thunder, hiding underneath blankets and borrowing into his side whenever a storm came. John decided that todays fun would be over, and it was time to go back to one of the homes that he has in the area. The group quickly made their way to the park entrance. Bright flashes of lightening immediately followed by ear bleeding thunder. The sky darkened, huge black clouds obscuring much of the it, casting everything in inky shadow. Wind started to blow, strong enough that The Behemoth would be jealous. Eliza, Tommy, and Aira all tightly hugged John. Who was struggling to walk, all of the legs and hugging coming from his loved ones impeding his cane. John didn¡¯t mind. He wasn¡¯t scared of the weather. The limo came into view. It was parked right outside the entrance for the park. A large white plush bunny could be seen through the tinted windows. The group let out a sigh of relief, Eliza started to run towards the limo. Yelling about getting the seat ready for Tommy. He was still holding his grandfather. Johns free hand resting on the boy¡¯s head, giving him much needed pats. The wind started to pick up, blowing huge gusts of wind. One forced John to stumble, his cane tangling with Aira legs. John pitched forward only to be caught by his wife, deep brown eyes frightful, on the verge of crying. She paused, looked past John. He turned. There, only a stone¡¯s throw away was a black circle. Deeper than anything John could imagine, a bright ring of light surrounded the disk, he could feel that all of the air was being sucked into the hole. John started to call for a bodyguard, but they were already closing in. Andrew tried to grab Tommy, Lizzy grabbed at Aira, Jimmy ran towards John. All were too slow. The darker than black disk came towards John. He could feel his shirt being sucked towards it. He could see his wife¡¯s hair being sucked horizontal pulling her head back. John could feel her grip tighten on his arm. He shoved Tommy towards Andrew. Tommy stumbled, but Andrew quickly caught the boy and immediately started sprinting towards the car. John looked at his wife, his life with her flashing before his eyes. He loved this woman with everything that he could muster. He pried her hands from his arm. Usually, he could never move one of her fingers. This time she gave no resistance when her hands were removed and given to Lizzy. Lizzy picked up Aira like a small doll and rushed towards the car. Only Jimmy and John remained near the disk. Jimmy tried to pick up the old man. But John was too heavy. He could see the terror in Jimmy¡¯s eyes, knowledge that they were going to die. John knew he looked the same. Jimmy hands fumbled, unable to get a purchase anywhere on John. Jimmy¡¯s frantic hands tearing at Johns cloths until John tried to push the bodyguard away. Jimmy stopped. Looking directly into Johns eyes. ¡°GO! I¡¯LL BE FINE!¡± John screams just barley heard above the wind. They both knew that John could not be carried away. Jimmy ran away. John sat, staring at his love. Her head poking above Lizzy¡¯s shoulder. He felt remorse, that he couldn¡¯t make his wife smile, he couldn¡¯t hug his kids one last time, that he would never see his granddaughter smile with all of her teeth, that he couldn¡¯t teach his grandson to be a man. He knew he was going to die, and he hated that it would be without any bit of warning. He felt the ground lift away. Lightening striking near him, flashing around his body. His ears bleeding from the sound of the thunder. He couldn¡¯t fight, what was there to fight against. You can¡¯t threaten a hole, and no amount of money could force this one stop. John was use to loosing, but this was the first time he lost everything. -- John was trapped in the dark place for what seemed like hours. Not very long, all things considered. But it was long enough to wonder where the hell god was. Long enough to wonder if this was what hell was like. Long enough to wonder if this was some other religions type of afterlife. And long enough to get board of all the wondering. His mind turned his life. He remembered his wife, all the trouble trying to get her a citizenship. He remembered working and staying awake all night to take care of their baby girl. He remembered the first time he was hired to be a CEO for some failing manufacturing company. He remembered failing that company, telling all the staff that there was no money, and will not be any money. He remembered all the nights he cried away his sorrows in Aira¡¯s arms. He remembered all of the other companies, some he succeeded in turning them around, others went the same as the first. He remembered when his daughter brought her first crush home. Both the girls were a wreak, both crying, convinced that he would disown her over something so petty. The second, a boyfriend, being an angry atheist. Annoying but it was also a phase that John himself went through long, long ago. The third boyfriend was a religious nut. From some sect out in the mountains, he didn¡¯t last long. He remembered walking his baby girl down the aisle. Both of their makeup ruined from tears and snot. He remembered his first grandbaby laughing. The dark space he was trapped in, tore him away from his life. He hated it more than anything he has experienced in his life. Then he felt pain. A searing headache, more than any migraine he could have ever experienced before. Then it was more than a migraine. His bones felt like they were on fire, like they were breaking and healing and breaking all over again. The pain agonizingly slowly moving out, his muscles, stomach, skin. It burned, this time he knew he was dying. Whatever this black space was, it wasn¡¯t death. He knew now that he was dying. John started to cry, screams destroying his voice. Suddenly he felt fine. No pain, no hurt throat, not even his knees. Which was strange, Johns knees have always hurt him. He was in a fetal position, laying on some metal platform. He stood, some alien strength lifting him up. He felt more powerful then at anytime in his life. He looked forward. John was stared at four men; all were bleeding from their ears. The two that were closest to John were also bleeding from their noses. ¡°Oh, Glorious Hero! We have summoned thy to help this once great kingdom to rise again from the ashes it has now fallen to! Oh, wise Demon chosen by the Lord I beseech you to help reclaim what has been lost!¡± The man with a long red robe hoarsely yelled. John more confused than he has ever been in his life, continued to look at them. Then almost instantly some puzzle pieces snapped into place. These four monsters before him, they stole him. They killed him. They brought John to this weird computer mainframe room. John saw red. His anger, at being forced from his family, at the pain he saw in his wife¡¯s eyes. The certainty that he would never be able to see her again. He let all his emotions out. ¡°Where am I. Why did you take me! Where is my Family! I swear to all that is holy if you hurt them, I WILL DESTROY ALL THAT YOU CHERISH!¡± His voice starting from quiet quickly became deafening just like that terrible thunder. And so, his anger rising John stood waiting for an answer. Expectations John stood there, seething in anger. Watching the four men tremble in fear. His question hanging in the air. The scent of blood filling the room. A man in ornate blue and gold robes started to step around what looked like an old audio mixing console. Large thick ropes of wires crisscrossed in every direction, a chaotic web. Sprouting from every metal box are old lightbulbs. John¡¯s burning anger blinding him to all the curious sights. The old man in the red robes, who first spoke to him, put a hand on the shoulder of the blue man. Stopping him from getting any closer. ¡°Do not be afraid Demon, we have summoned thy to complete a task.¡± The old man commanded in a shaky voice. ¡°I can assure you that whatever family you have in Hell is as safe as they usually are.¡± ¡°My family is not in Hell! You stole me from them! WHY!¡± John¡¯s last scream echoed around the room. The devastation reverberating, dancing around everyone¡¯s ears. The man in red paled, his tan skin draining of color. His loose sleeves shook. John could see the calm fa?ade start to crack, tears appearing in his eyes. One of the men in back stepped behind the king and said something into the King¡¯s ear. The man in red stopped trembling, slowly wiping at his face. The blood that was slowly leaking from his nose gone, hidden on the red sleeve. John¡¯s anger was growing, he started to walk off of the platform. Bare feet slapping on metal then stone rang through the chamber, John¡¯s advance making all but the blue robe retreat. John stopped his advance so close to the blue robe, he could feel breath on his chest. John was head and shoulders above the tallest person there. He gazed into everyone¡¯s eyes. Looking for any bit of remorse, he saw only fear. John knew that fear was important for any negotiation, but too much leads to ruin. John knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to go home, he wanted his wife, he wanted his money. Now he needs to know why they brought him here. John put on his fake smile, the one that he always plasters on during difficult negotiations. ¡°What are your names?¡± John asked, his deep base trying to emulate the practiced grandfatherly voice he practiced for decades. The man in red stood straight, his fear disappearing into a neutral expression. In a confident baritone he proclaimed, ¡°I am King Robard, Protector of this realm, He who was chosen by the Tribunal, Survivor of the Purge, Holder of the Relic of St. Tobias the Mad.¡± He waved his hand to the blude robe, ¡°This is my court sorcerer, Benedictus the Sane, Maintainer of the Ritual, the wisest man in the kingdom¡± He pointed behind him to the man that whispered in his ear, ¡°This is Duke Thyme, a most loyal confidant. His family has been a boon to this kingdom for centuries.¡± He pointed to the last man, he was in his early fifty¡¯s, which was younger than all of his contemporaries. His gold hair only having some white streaks. He was obviously muscled and stood tall, glairing directly through John. ¡°This is our great general, Vasily Zhukom. He commanded my army just last year, defending my kingdom from a great coalition bent on destroying my capital.¡± the general bowed his head imperceptibly. John noted the names. With his rage hidden behind a smile, ¡°We should clean up, and sit down to discuss exactly why you brought me here.¡± Usually John would be more circumspect, but he didn¡¯t care right now. ¡°Yes, of course, we shall have you clothed and fed, then we shall meet in my chambers to tell you why we summoned you, oh great Demon.¡± The sorcerer Benedictus remarked, his voice trembling. John tilted his head at the remark, ¡®clothed?¡¯ He looked down at himself. He was completely naked. Thick course black hair covered his chest. His stomach, unlike his previous body was extremely muscled. In fact, all of this body was toned and bulging with muscles. John was never fit in his old life; he always had some sort of beer-belly. As John continued to stare at his pristine body, he felt wrong, something was tickling the back of his mind. He would ponder on what later. They all waked to the bank vault door, candle flickering off the dull metal. John was able to make out his face; he has a wide strong jaw, long black hair, sharp nose, and high cheekbones. He thought that he looked fairly handsome, but a far cry from what he actually looked like. The king stood before the door, hand about to turn the handle but stopped. He looked to the General, ¡°Zhukom, give The Demon an outer robe. We cannot let the women see him as he is.¡± Zhukom took off his yellow robe and handed it to John. John tried to put the clothing on, and it barely fit. The seams bulged from his muscles; the back would rip if he wanted to hug someone. The front of the yellow robe was unable to close, so a deep neckline exposed his front down to his navel being closed by a belt. Thankfully, the robe was able to hide his manhood from being seen. With that King Robard opened the door. Standing there, in organized lines were all of the King¡¯s retinue that was unable to make it into the vault. About fifty people lined the dark halls, some hurrying to stand from the floor, others that seemed to have stood the whole time. And some that had the correct idea have some stools and chairs to wait on. The king walked through the people, John directly to his right. Everyone stared at him. Everyone knew. A servant came to the king, who told the servant to feed and clothe John or as the servant was told ¡®The Lord Demon.¡¯ Walking through the castle with the servant John was surprised to see how archaic everything was. There were tapestries hanging on every wall, the walls were plastered white. Windows shown the absolutely stunning view of a gold and green valley, emerald green pastures with small hamlets dotting the countryside. At the base of the mountain that the castle was carved into was a city. Nowhere as big as the metropolises that John was used to dominating. He could see the smoke from all the chimneys lazily drifting upward. John and the servant walked up many stairs, through maze of hallways, across many gilded rooms. They walked outside in the brisk mountain air; shear drops just beyond carved handrails. John did not spot any type of tower, only windows and doors into the mountain. After what had to have been an hour John was led into a room. Beautiful wooden wardrobes, a massive four poster bed, massive shelves bare of any possessions, a huge desk looking out onto a large stone balcony. ¡°My Lord, these are to be your quarters. The Sorcerer is in the room directly to your right, and the Bishop of the region is to your left. The Master Tailor will be here soon, along with refreshments from the kitchen.¡± The boy quickly bowed, his head going past his knees, then ran from the room, slamming the door in fright. John stood there, his borrowed robe chafing, his new body warmed up for more exercise, his anger bubbling. He looked at his new possessions, not what he would have bought. John was more art deco.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. John sat in the large chair behind the desk. His thoughts turned to what his family was doing right now. How was Aira doing? Was she devastated? Did one of her friends come? What was she thinking right now? What about Tommy and Eliza, they just saw their grandfather be sucked into a black hole. Were they going to be alright? What about his many companies? He was the sole owner of many of them, he didn¡¯t have a succession plan. Entire economies would collapse. The board of directors for each business would fight for who would be the rightful owner. It would be chaos for years with assassinations, lawsuits, and bribes. He knew that his family would be safe, he had squirreled away hundreds of billions in various places in various means. His family would never want for anything. But still he wondered what his family will do. Would Aria take the reigns of all the companies? Would his daughter? Or, god forbid his son in law? If that dumbass took over, everything would be worse off than the boards squabbling. That boy could barely decide on what to have for breakfast, much less how many assets should be leveraged to get a lone, or for how long that loan would last, or what percentage it would be. Hell, the boy probably didn¡¯t even know of a bank that could give loans, even though he was the president of one. John sat and waited. He needed to calm down, his rage would only make him sloppy. Just like when he went into a union dispute pissed at the factory strike. He was so pissed he fired everyone it brought the factory to a stand still for two years. It was a mistake, a costly one. As John was ruminating on his life, a knock came from his door. A meek man stepped in, not waiting for Johns acceptance. Following him was a cart pushed by the same servant boy that led him to the chambers. The man bowed low, ¡°My Lord, I bring you food and wine from the kitchens.¡± A large silver tray with a silver dome was placed on his desk. With a flourish the man lifted the dome to reveal an uncooked haunch of meat, blood dripping onto the tray, the ¡®wine¡¯ was just a silver goblet filled to the brim with blood. The coppery scent filled the room. The man and the boy both waiting for John¡¯s reaction. After a few seconds they started to wilt, and cringe. John just stared at the meat. A questioning gaze at it, then to the man. ¡°Ah, this is an excellent steak. Take it back to the kitchens and have the chefs cook the meat until there is only a little pink on the inside. Make sure to use lots of salt. Also bring me wine, I prefer a sweet white wine.¡± John, knowing that insulting the help only brings about theft and other pointy things. He tried to keep his tone civil, but his words came out in a low growl. The silver dome quickly slammed on the tray and everything was quickly wheeled out of the room with another slammed door. John sat, contemplating about the treatment. Obviously, they thought that he was some demon summoned by the King. What would the king want? What would John give? He wanted to go home, and he would give everything. What the King wanted would be answered in their meeting. John needed an action plan. What were his advantages, his disadvantages, what would make his disadvantages into advantages? Advantages One he was considered a demon lord. Two He had nothing. Three he was an outsider with what seems like a lot of information about technology and theories that these peoples have not created yet.
Advantages
One he was considered a demon lord.
Two He had nothing.
Three he was an outsider with what seems like a lot of information about technology and theories that these peoples have not created yet.
Disadvantages
One- He knew nothing about this culture.
Two- He di not know what he would be tasked to do.
John was unsure about that last one. He was in a castle that was hewn directly from a mountain, so central air was unneeded. He did not see a radio or tv, but in some of the more high-tech hotels all that was needed was a flat surface and a pinhole in the ceiling for a micro projector. There was no monitor, but again they only needed a pinhole, or even just a tablet. The place was an obvious monarchy, with dukes, so it was probably a feudal system. But again, there was not enough info for John to make a good action plan. They thought John was a demon, so what type of demon should John play? Or should he convince the people that he was not a demon. What would be the advantages, the disadvantages?
Advantages:
One-People will fear him, fear is a good motivator for people to do as he wants.
Two-Being a demon will allow him to introduce new technologies and technologies into the world with little explanation for why.
Three-It gives him automatic clout with many people, as being a being from hell.
Four- It would excuse any fopas that he committed
Five- It would allow him to be condescending and dismissive and evil.
Disadvantages
One- People tend to kill demons.
Two-People tend to fear demons, and fear leads to resentment and ultimately death if the fear gets too oppressive.
Three- Whatever church there is will not like him around leading to constant decrees for his death.
Well John didn¡¯t mind death. Afterall he knows he died, and his sudden reappearance into his own world would only cause more chaos. With his kidnapping/murder he also has nothing to lose. Which brings the downsides of being demon down to one. So, John decided to play as a demon. ¡°What type of demon should I be? A Faustian Demon, making deals that bite you in the ass in the end? A contract demon signing away the soul of their firstborn? Obviously, they think that by summoning me they have bound me to them. Maybe I should just leave this place and go into the countryside and live like an ordinary person?¡± John had to chuckle after that last thought. John would never be an ordinary person. John knew that the king kidnapped him here to be an advisor to solve some types of problems. After all, that is what demons always do, solve problems. A knock at the door startled John out of his thoughts once again. Another man, clothed in extremely vibrant blues and greens cam in. His cloths were not so much robes as they were layers of vests and tight hose with an enormous gold cod piece. With him came in with a boy carrying in a large steamer trunk, the boy placed it like a wardrobe and opened the door to reveal piles and piles of clothing, and tools. ¡°Good evening, my Lord. I hope that I am not intruding upon you. Our majesty has commanded me to outfit you with robes and other clothes. If you could stand here an allow me to measure you, I can quickly alter a robe to match your presence¡± The man said huffing and puffing. Sweat dripping down his forehead, large belly shaking from such laborious breaths. John stepped up and waited. Looking into the wardrobe, wondering what colors the tailor had. What color should John choose. White would not be fun when he needed to eat. Black is a bit too on the nose, useful in many a situation. Would it be useful right now is the question. ¡°What color do your people consider to be appropriate for peo-beings of my origin?¡± John tried to sound sinister, growling deep in his throat. To John it sounded silly. Like a child at a haunted house trying their best to be intimidating. John knew that in his world those types of people were never intimidating. The pedophiles in office that had a revolving cadre of children to parade around all of their parties. The business leaders that also had ties to the mafia and made liberal use of those connections. No, instead of being an over the top cartoonish evil, John needed to play this as a cool and confident type. The ones that could smile to your face while also texting a hitman to kidnap and sell your kids. That part would be easy. John had dealt with many a persons like that. ¡°A deep red my lord. Red is the color of your people.¡± The tailor also looked toward the wardrobe, quickly reaching in and pulling out a bright red cotton robe with many geometric patterns painted onto the fabric. The tailor reached into a hidden pocket on his vest and pulled out a cloth tape measure. After measuring John in every which way, the tailor started to alter the red robe. The tailor estimated the alterations to take at least two hours, as the tailor described it, ¡°My Lord is exceptional in all measurements.¡± As the tailor pins and sews, needles swimming in fabric, the door opens once more. The servant boy comes in again with the silver tray and dome. He quickly places the food on the desk and unveils it. The servant boy stands there hands trembling, eyes darting around the room going everywhere except to John. John leans forward, having been seated for quite a while as the tailor worked, and cut into his steak. ¡°This is good, thank you.¡± Really the steak was charred to ash with no salt. Was it a mistake, overcorrection or deliberate. Honestly, John was too hungry to care at that moment. He ate and watched the tailor continue his work. ¡°Boy¡± John said, snapping his fingers to get the servant to look at him, ¡°Bring me to the Sorcerer¡¯s chambers. I am having the meeting now.¡± Standing up John walked to the door, opening it, stepped into the hallway, and turned back. The servant stood there, wide eyed. ¡°Boy, bring me to the Sorcerer¡±