Chapter 4: Audience

The horses snorted heavily as they laboured up the narrow path, pulling their carriages behind them. Gravel crackled under hoof and wheel as they strained themselves, but we were too busy recuperating to feel sorry for them.

I felt utterly exhausted. My face felt like a blazing furnace, and my chest was heaving even though I had been seated for quite a while. My limbs trembled and were utterly devoid of strength. I raised my eyes to look at Greg; he looked just as tired as me.

Seeing that, I decided against speaking. I doubted that I could have, had I even tried.

We all sat in silence. Slowly - ever so slowly - my breathing calmed, and I began to feel how refreshing the breeze was.

Eventually, it came to be that we were approaching the drawbridge. I distantly registered the sound of the captain hailing the gates, and then the drawbridge was gradually lowered to earth.

It took me a second, looking at the area beyond the drawbridge, to remember what it was called: the gatehouse. Or, as it was known to invaders, the killing field. Despite my surety that the captain had no intentions to kill us, for now at least, I drew back into my seat.

Not that it would have helped if they did want to kill us. The holes in the walls and ceiling of the gatehouse allowed defenders to fire arrows, drop stones or even pour boiling oil onto invaders. This carriage was many things, but watertight was not one of them.

To my relief, we passed through without incident. The others were blissfully unaware that we had just passed through a death trap and looked at me strangely as I breathed a sigh of relief.

We passed into the keep proper. There were a few buildings; stables and the like, but most of it was kept clear, so it would offer little cover to invaders if they managed to breach the outer wall. In one part of this open area was another troop of soldiers, swinging their swords in perfect unison in a remarkable display of discipline and skill. Now that I think about it, they were a bit taller, on average, than the soldiers we were with.

Our convoy of carriages stopped in this area, and soldiers started to unpack various supplies, lead the horses towards the stables, hurry the still-recuperating magi towards the keep proper…

Meanwhile, the captain lead us into the keep and down its twisting corridors to the room we would be staying in, a large, communal area that was nonetheless a step up from straw mattresses in a large tent.

“This is where you shall bunk while you are here.” Explained the captain. “It is already late, and I can see you are exhausted. There will be dinner, and then I recommend you sleep for as long as you can. Tomorrow I will begin your training in earnest.”

The implication that he didn’t define walking for almost a full day as training wasn’t lost on me or anyone else, but I shelved that thought. For now, food and rest were the important things.

We were led to the mess hall, where we ate a meal somewhat better than when we had been on the road. After finishing, I availed myself of the toilets, which to my delight had a proper flushing mechanism, although I couldn’t tell how it worked.

Greg and I navigated back to the room, picking beds next to each other. The next day might well have been harder than that one, but all we could think of at the time was sleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling nearly as tired and sore as the previous night. Getting up was a chore that pained my back and tortured my thighs, but I still got up. I had to. We all did. We knew that was the day that would decide our fates.

Slipping on my watch that was thankfully sufficiently waterproof to survive the torrents of sweat that had washed over it the past few days, a pair of socks that were so damp they felt like they were fresh out of the washing machine but no doubt smelt like gorgonzola, a pair of black leather shoes disguised as a pair of brown leather shoes and a pair of glasses that were… All things considered, not doing too badly.

After that was done, I roused Greg and walked through the rows of beds and out the door, closing it behind me. In the corridor, I looked around, confused – I had completely forgotten the way to the mess hall.

Fortunately, I still vaguely remembered the way outside, so I headed in that direction instead. After making it outside, a minute or two standing around looking deliberately confused was enough to attract a passing soldier, who I asked for directions.

Thanking the man, I turned around and walked back inside, following his directions to finally make it back to the mess hall, where I snagged myself some breakfast and sat down at one of the long tables.

Greg seemed to remember the way a bit better than me, as he was only a minute behind me.

Tasting the bland foods made me long for the foods of the modern world. Not things like pizza or donuts, I never ate them much anyway. Simple but delicious foods, like the humble sandwich. Peanut butter and honey. Vegemite.

Well, not that it was among my favourite spreads, but it excelled as a prank food. People always seemed to think it would taste like Nutella and took a spoonful of it. No. Just no. Only veteran Australians and Chuck Norris can eat it like that. You get a thin layer on a nice slice of toast, chuck a slice of cheese on top, and then you have yourself a nice, true blue vegemite sandwich.

In the midst of my daydreams of the proper construction of sandwiches, I ate breakfast on autopilot and the captain soon came over to round us all up. He guided us to another room, empty but for a small table, on top of which was an inkwell, a quill and a metal, rectangular plate.

The captain stood next to this table. “Before your audience with the kings, I will measure your magical aptitudes. Line up and put our hands on the plate, one by one. It will display your aptitudes.”

Did he just… Mention that we would be meeting with kings?

“It won’t… explode, will it?” Someone asked hesitantly.

The captain slightly raised an eyebrow. “Only if you deliberately load it with mana. There won’t be any trouble.”

And with that, everyone hurried to be the first in line. “Please state your name and age as you reach the front, and then the results of the test.” The captain restated.

Greg and I were close to the front of the line, so we could see what happened when the person in from reached out and touched the plate. A few lines of text appeared, the contents of which I couldn’t discern from that distance.

Still, when it came to Greg’s turn, I was able to peek over his shoulder and see the full of it. When he took his hand away, the plate read: Primary: fire – medium, water – low, wind – medium, earth – low, darkness – none, light – medium, Secondary: lightning – high, illusion – none, lava – low, holy – low, decay – none, ice – low.

“Greg, forty-three years.” Greg reported as the captain noted down the results on a sheet of parchment.

“Next.” The captain nodded, after a moment.

Greg stood to one side to watch as I stepped up and put my hand on the plate. My heart fluttered in anticipation as I lifted my hand again, revealing a single, short line of text: All – medium.

I was very excited, of course. And annoyed. I understood that while it meant I could use a variety of abilities, it also meant that choosing something to specialise in would also be made much harder.

“Phil, forty-two.” I said before asking, “Is this unusual?”

The captain kept concentrating on his writing, speaking without looking up. “It would be, were you not a summoned hero. Most summoned heroes have potential much greater than that of the common man.”

It didn’t take all that long to finish the process. Some people were visibly disappointed by their result, while others were quite ecstatic. There was even another person who had gotten the all attribute affinity like me.

Placing the quill back on the table, the captain addressed us. “Some of you may be disappointed by your affinities. Know this: among the people of this world, there are many who have no affinities whatsoever. Every one of you has at least a medium affinity to one type of magic, which would be considered quite the talent for a normal person.”

A few people perked up at that, but not many. It wasn’t really an issue of whether they were talented or not, it was an issue of whether they were talented compared to their peers – nobody likes to feel inferior to those around them. Of course, everyone is inferior to everyone else, in some aspect or another, butt with something as interesting and potentially life-changing as magic, it meant a lot more.

“Being unable to use as many elements as others is not necessarily a bad thing.” The captain continued. “You may be gifted physically. There are many warriors in this world that are stronger in single combat than the best of magi.”

Some eyes glinted at the mention of warriors, mostly men who already somewhat well developed in the muscles department.

I checked my watch. It looks like we would soon be scheduled in for a good old-fashioned training montage.

Before that, however, we’ll have to meet some kings.

What fun.

The thirty-five of us, plus the captain, stood in front of a metallic door intricately engraved with depictions of dragons, unicorns, griffons and all manner of mythical creatures, delicately painted.

All in all, it was a nice door. You don’t see many nice doors, nowadays. They don’t make them like they used to.

Somewhat guiltily, I turned my head back towards the captain, who was giving us a quick lecture on how to act around kings. Or, more accurately, how not to act.

“Don’t speak unless one of them asks you a question. Don’t whisper, don’t yell, don’t make any sudden movements,” He listed, “don’t frown, don’t go near their thrones, don’t go near the stairs leading up to the thrones, don’t spit, don’t scratch your nose – it might be best if you just don’t move at all.”

He sounds somewhat nervous. “You should pick a representative to do the talking, so you don’t all speak at once.”

This, of course, lead to a flurry of people succinctly explaining why they are not qualified to be the representative.

“I have anger management issues.”

“I have issues with authorities.”

“My childcare degree did NOT prepare me for this!”

“I curse at people in videogames.”

“我喜歡奶酪”

“You speak perfect English, Zou Yang!”

“我的鳥生病了”

Meanwhile, I just stood back and watched. It’s not like they would have chosen me; Most people barely remember that I exist, due in part to me having so few interactions with people other than Greg.

In the end, Nelson, a rather bookish person who once did a law degree, was chosen to be our representative. The law degree wasn’t strictly related, but it was a good enough excuse for the rest of us.

After we informed the captain of our choice, we resumed waiting. And waiting.

For about fifteen minutes we stood in awkward silence, before the doors started to open soundlessly. Those are nice hinges.

As we walked through the open doors, a man to the side announced our names, one by one. There was a lush red carpet on the floor, one of those ones that you aren’t sure whether you should be walking on or not. But since it covered nearly half the floor, we walked on it.

Seated upon three ornate wooden thrones were three lavishly dressed men. Probably Kings, yes, but they also could have been body doubles for all I knew.

The man seated on the center chair stood, spreading his arms in what would have been a grand gesture – were he not half our height. He started to speak in aloud voice, but his beard was even louder to me, black twirly dreadlocks, twined with gold thread and gemstones in a way that surprisingly looked quite nice.

“Welcome, heroes, to the keep!” He boomed. “I am Nemoc Opalbeard, king of the dwarven kingdom, Morrock!”

Now that he mentioned it, there was a rather large opal hanging from the center of his beard.

In the left chair was a large, stocky fellow with blond hair, blue eyes, a neatly trimmed beard and this look about him that made him appear more like a hero than all of us put together. I could easily imagine him astride a war horse, wielding a massive sword and galloping into battle. Standing, he too introduced himself.

“I am King Allen Duarte the ninth, king of the human kingdom, Stalia!”

The last king sighed at their theatrics and stood. He was tall, thin and quite pale, with shoulder-length brown hair. I assumed he had long, pointy ears as well, but I couldn’t see them through his hair.

“King Galen Dumedar of the elven kingdom, Enlux.” He said.

The three kings sat once again. The center king, Nemoc the dwarf, began to pronounce our fate.

“The captain has informed you of why you are here, but perhaps you do not realise the bigger picture.” He paused for a moment before continuing gravely. “There are five main races in this world: Dwarves, Humans, Elves, Beastmen and Demons. In the past, there were many wars between our races, but for the last few decades, for the first time in recorded history, there has been peace between all five nations.”

Despite this, King Nemoc grimaced slightly. “A month ago, a high priest of the church in the kingdom of Stalia prophesied that the demon kingdom had secretly been gathering strength and colluding with the evil god to conquer the world. King Allen was informed of this, and contacted the other kingdoms, resulting in this alliance – the beastmen king declined, for reasons we know not.”

Galen, the elven king, interrupted King Nemoc with an exasperated wave of his hand. “Skipping the unimportant details, the arch-magi of our 3 kingdoms did extensive research, rediscovered the hero summoning formation and thus summoned you. Captain Pierce, what were the results of their aptitude tests?”

Captain Pierce, as we now knew his name to be, stood at attention and reported clearly, “I have a full report here, your highness.” He held out the paper, which was taken by someone who appeared from a side alcove.

The man inspected it carefully, running long fingers over its surface and even sniffing it lightly before he nodded, ascended the stairs and proffered it to King Galen.

As he read it, his eyebrows slowly ascended. “Astounding.” He exclaimed quietly as he finished, passing it on to King Nemoc. “There is little doubt that all of you have the potential to be excellent magi.”

King Allen spoke, “There are no means to testing physical talent beyond observing how you fare in the training regime. Thus, you shall do both martial and magical training for the time being.” He glanced towards the other kings for a moment before saying, “Do you, heroes from another world, have any questions about what has been said?”

Shoulders tense, Nelson hesitantly took a step forward. “I humbly apologise for my lack of decorum, and I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but how trustworthy is this prophecy?”

King Allen nodded down at him. “Captain Pierce has already informed us of your lack of experience in this area, you need not worry. As for the prophecy, the priest in question is of upstanding character, and his past prophecies have been impeccably accurate. There is no doubt that what he speaks is the truth.”

Gulping, Nelson moved onto the next question on his list. “Is there any way for us to return to our previous world?”

King Allen pondered for a moment before speaking. “Theoretically, yes. But it would not be easy. Part of the reason the hero summoning formation was not even more costly was that the target was not a specific person or place. The formation itself would simply be the inverse of the original, but the cost would be astronomical. It would, perhaps, require at least tenfold the quantity of mana used to summon you in the first place, perhaps as much as thirtyfold. And even that required the strongest of our magi working in concert, all the while harnessing the power of the largest known mana line.”

He shook his head. “We simply do not have that magnitude of resources to spare.”

Nelson nodded with a tinge of sadness, but not much surprise.

Even if they did have the resources to spare, why would they be so kind as to spend it on us? That would mean they would have spend a load of resources getting us here, and then a whole load sending us back – massive expenditure for zero gains.

“Can we refuse to be heroes?” Nelson asked.

King Allen was unable to keep his calm at this, and King Galen’s eyes suddenly snapped back onto us, focusing on the conversation once again. Only King Nemoc seemed unflinching at the prospect of losing us and spoke his piece.

“It is your choice. We cannot – will not – force you to fight for us. But this is a dangerous world, and it is doubtful that you would survive unaided and untrained.” He warned. “It is best that you train here first, at least until you grow strong enough to protect yourself. If, after this, you still wish to leave, we will provide you with supplies and directions enough to get you to the nearest city.”

King Galen wasn’t so calm, and tried to persuade us otherwise. “Do remember, however, that if we are unable to defeat the demons without you, then you will have no choice but to face them alone – they will spare no one.”

“So, say we do decide to be heroes, we won’t be fighting alone?” Asked Nelson.

“Of course not.” King Galen denied. “You would be fighting alongside our armies for the majority of the war, I expect.”

Nodding, Nelson shrank back slightly from the intense gazes of the three kings staring at him. In an attempt to defuse the tension, Nelson said what must have been the first thing to come into his mind: “Wouldn’t there be some tension in the alliance based on who sits on the central throne?”

The sudden change in subject catches the kings slightly off-guard, drawing a short laugh from King Nemoc. “Ha! One might think so, but we just roll dice for it. Makes it fair and keeps the nobles guessing.”

Exhausted, but glad that he had successfully drained the tension, Nelson sought to end the meeting. “I think that’s all the questions we have.”

King Nemoc waved his hand, and the men by the doors swung them open. “Very well, you are dismissed.

And with that, our audience with kings was over.