NOVEL WEB Chapter Seventy-Seven: Pandemonium (Important Update)
Pandemonium.
There was no other way to describe the feelings that ran through every Landonian. Those who witnessed the event firsthand reported an indescribable fear. A few categorized it as primal—a trepidation you never knew you could feel until it filled your heart with dread.
Everyone felt it. The destruction may have been heavily contained by that pink barrier, but it couldn’t stop everyone from feeling a change on an instinctual level.
Within hours of becoming aware of the Arcton Mountain Cataclysm, King Lando dispatched hundreds of messengers to declare a state of emergency across his kingdom once word and proof had reached him.
Minutes later, he sat at the round table in the conference hall and discussed what to do. The war hawks immediately blamed Keywater. They said this was something Emperor Virin would do. King Lando agreed, but he argued they had no proof it was an invasion.
“It is one thing after another-- One event after the next! The Kingdom of Lando is cursed!” exclaimed Earl Andon Marcel, his short hair whooshing across his frightened, coward-filled eyes. “And now we have word of an intruder within the castle?! What is happening to our land?!”
“Curse or not, we must fulfill our people’s needs. My liege, we must dispatch the military to keep order. If this is an attack from Keywater, then we must be ready!” said Marquise Daisie Calista—overseer of the March of Elarion that presided north of Adenaford. “I can ready the mages at the institute within the week and have them here by—"
“We cannot leave ourselves defenseless! Who will the military protect if not us? The lifeblood of our glorious kingdom? Lando’s Nail is our most important treasure. Sending the military in any substantial numbers may open us to an invasion from Westera,” argued Chancellor Wilhelm Freud. “Those institute students aren’t cut for war! We need them to remain there to put pressure on Keywater and Westera!”
Suddenly, a door opened, and all eyes turned to the man entering the room. “Arcton is as far away from Westera as you can get,” said Lord Flynn, taking his seat. “The logistics aren’t there. Plenty of men in Arcton would have reported seeing anything suspicious days before. If destruction spans the mountain range, it would not have been easy to create. You’d need thousands of mages of comparable strength, chanting for days without rest. You can’t hide that. Elarion’s magical institute can’t even accomplish that.”
“And what are you saying?”
“Were my words too complicated, chancellor?” The bald man with stuffed cheeks fumed. “Do not let fear overcome you. The situation is frightening, but we cannot lose ourselves. If we do, the people will look at the crown with unjust eyes. We do not want that.” Harold laid his theory out. Westera was too far—something the chancellor had momentarily forgotten in the heat of passion. Adenaford was a harbor capital on Inith’s largest lake in Lando’s middle. Rivers connected it to the southern sea. “We have men stationed along the primary route to Westera. Warships are patrolling the Adenamouth Delta. No one can slip past them.”
“Lord Flynn is correct. Word would’ve been sent. Intruders are a pressing issue,” King Lando said. “General Leirmonious Hex has been ordered to investigate. All guests within the castle have been given the utmost security detail.”
“What about yourself?” asked the marquise. She was the sole woman among the men, but she wasn’t wearing a dress. She had a reputation for being rough and tumble and preferred manlier clothes when society didn’t force her into feminine garments for the parties she hated to attend. Had she been anyone else, the men would’ve shouted at her to change out of her tailored trousers, white linen shirt, a wonderfully sewn vest that supported her lacking chest, and flattened leather boots. The cloak flowing behind her had the Calista emblem sewn onto it—a Silver Rose entwined with Ivy. The marquise looked more ready to brawl than to cast magic. However, she was an excellent mage—perhaps the best to come out of Elarion’s Institute of Magic—which explained why a peasant orphan like her eventually became a marquise through hard work and determination.
She was not a product of nepotism—a rarity in this world.
“My family is in the vault. The Royal Guard has been assembled, and Prince Cedric is at the ready. I am the king, am I not? I shall not let my people or countrymen endure this hardship alone.”
“King, my soldiers—”
“They’re not your soldiers, Lord Flynn.” The chancellor’s tongue cut sharp. “Their true loyalty lies with the king.” Harold turned it around and asked why the chancellor was using this moment to imply disloyalty when he hadn’t done anything during the previous incident.
“You’re more concerned with technicalities rather than action. My king, give the order. The soldiers at the Nail are trained and ready. We best proceed as a strike force. Duchess Penelope’s guard, Percival, should be willing to escort us. He’s currently Canary’s strongest soldier after Lieutenant Fisher’s passing. The Dreadwood Shadow also resides within the city. I’m quite confident she will lend her aid.”
Duke Hawthorn Alaric—ruler of the Cambria Duchy west of Adenaford-a man of imposing presence and a history of rivalry with Lord Flynn, leaned forward with a skeptical look. His neatly trimmed, dark hair had streaks of silver like the meteorites that harbored raw, unrefined nadrium ore. His blue eyes were piercing, and he never shied them away. “Are we to rely on a single man’s judgment? The situation is dire.” He folded his scarred, tanned hands on the table—proof of his time as a soldier before he hung up the sword—and waited for a response.
Duke Godfrey Caelan—overseer of the Craituq Duchy south of Adenaford—known for his level-headed demeanor and diplomatic skill, calmly spoke while adjusting his thick glasses with his large hands. He was a broad man with wide shoulders. “Perhaps we should consider gathering intelligence first. An immediate show of force may not be the wisest course.”
The council was divided, and hidden animosities flared. Some in the room were vying to get one over on their rivals. The room crackled with tension as King Lando contemplated his next move, aware that his decisions could shape the fate of Lando and its people.
“Patience is not on our side. Damage here has been restrained to rumblings and fallen vases, but Arcton is near the sea. We cannot ignore what it may do to the ocean. For all we know, Waveret may be underwater,” the king announced. “Arcton…may no longer be here. We must ready ourselves for that potential possibility.”
“And we cannot ignore the response from Keywater or Westera. Word may have already reached the Eastern Continent. Navigating through this grave situation will prove most difficult my liege.” Duke Caelan raised excellent points. His thick glasses supported his logical coolness. “We must prepare for the negation table. An Inith Council will be called within the fortnight. I fear war may be inevitable if we do not have suitable answers.”
“The duke is correct. That’s all the more reason to let the Nail’s forces go. Let us mobilize, my liege. Let us continue to prove our loyalty to the crown.”
“The Nail’s forces are too valuable. We are better off sending the military. The Nail cannot be left defenseless. It is—”
“Yes, it is the cornerstone of our economy. It’s our most valuable location, Chancellor Freud. But is it worth turning the Canary Duchy into a fragment of the past? Duke Biggins spent a decade doing what we couldn’t. And now we’re at risk of losing our fertile lands. We rely on the farms to feed our people. I know you know how much dupla passes through Waveret’s port.”
“Lord Flynn, we sustained ourselves off the Craituq Duchy when the Canary Duchy was a land of nothingness. We have backups. A hungry populace is an angry populace. I dare say we are overgrowing. Our grain storages are filled,” said Marquise Calista. “We destroy more than what we harvest to prevent flooding the market.”
“I’m aware. But times have changed. What satisfied us in the past cannot sustain us in the present. We must continue to improve and ensure we become dominant in the future.” Lord Flynn wouldn’t budge an inch. He was a stubborn man. He was also known for his keen eye for detail. Nothing escaped his gaze, and everything Lord Flynn read was analyzed to a frightened degree.
All possibilities were accounted for. Harold gave equal concern to even the most insignificant prospect because the world wasn’t black and white. Things made sense. But things also didn’t make sense.
Other people would scoff at his odd, mysterious precautions and call him a madman.
Those people were dead.
Harold was alive.
“Lord Flynn, ready half the Nail’s soldiers to be moved at a moment’s notice. Bring a squadron of winged-wildkin and survey the Arcton Mountain Range. Ready the royal mages. Give them as many potions and elixirs as they need. Tell General Hex I need him ready to mobilize.”
The king continued to bark orders, telling Duke Hawthorn and Duke Caelan to send word to their guard. They were to raise the flag and draft from their lands’ villages and remain on standby until further notice.
Many at the table were angry, but none more so than the chancellor hated how Lord Flynn had wormed his way into the king’s good graces. Why was that pompous show-off chosen to lead the Nail over him?
Oh, but Lord Flynn knew the ire he had garnered. He had more enemies than friends.
And he almost believed that he’d have one more.
He knew Servi was in Arcton. She was in Canary during that incident, and she was in Waveret when the dock burned down. She was connected to Fisher and Arnold and killed the former on his order.
That mysterious woman was at the corner of the mysteries surrounding Canary. He wondered if she was pretending to have lost her memories because the soldiers he sent to ask questions hadn’t delivered a single noteworthy report concerning anything about a missing girl.
Canary was on total lockdown. Martial law had been called, and the city’s guard patrolled the streets, arresting anyone outside. That extended to Warden, who implemented an emergency statement dictating that all adventurers couldn't leave. Failure to listen would result in harsh punishments since the guild hadn’t been contracted to investigate.
In most cases, the ruling person would’ve registered an emergency quest with the guild that required highly trained warriors, but this was an enigma. The word came from the duchess herself, and no doubt she had used the invaluable communication crystal every guild master held to decree her order to all Warden offices within her duchy.
It took hours for Lord Flynn and his forces to arrive—the cusp of dawn was on the horizon by then. The dozen mages responsible for the teleportation feat collapsed in exhaustion, with two coming dangerously close to death.
Lord Flynn was rushed to the duchess, where she was busy in an emergency meeting with the city’s most important nobles. The Queen of Night was present. Dreadwood Shadow was standing near her, resting her bow across her shoulder with a hungry look in her emerald eyes.
Lord Flynn had his suspicions about them since they were close to the mysterious Servi, but he ignored those feelings and handed the letter he received from the king to the duchess. Her sunny eyes read it, and she barked orders.
Percival was to join the group from Lando’s Nail. They were gathering outside the city and doing their final preparation. He nodded and quickly left. Dineria asked permission and explained her history with Servi and Momo. Duchess Ashford approved, and the Forest Elf leapt from the nearby open window. She acrobatically landed, then dashed, using her full speed to catch up to the soldiers gathering near the city walls at a breakneck pace.
The guildmaster was to prepare two emergency quests on behalf of the king. Those Advance Rank 0 or higher were to set up an emergency communication relay between Canary, Waveret, and the numerous villages, farms, and houses to ensure the constant flow of information. The pay was 5,000 dupla each—straight from the kingdom’s coffers.
The second was more general. Anyone Beginner Rank 0 was authorized to fight for Canary. They couldn’t leave the city, but adventurers had permission to act in the king’s name to defend the city.
Similar offers were to be given to the guilds in Waveret and Arcton. The guildmaster left, but the worried atmosphere remained behind. This was unprecedented. Initial scrying magic had been used, but Arcton was seven days away. The mountains were even further. Qina—Duchess Ashford—didn’t have the skill energy to pull it off without an artifact designed to enhance her magical prowess.
