Transcending Limitations by Brian Wilkerson

Author:Brian Wilkerson [Wilkerson, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780988306660
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2017-05-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11 Ritual Gone Wrong

“Let me get this straight...” Siron said. “You want Her Majesty to give you enough Sacred Fire, the most revered item in her realm and the proof of her divine right to rule, to apotheosis two people, both of whom are The Trickster’s Choice and neither of which is employed by her in an official Ataidar capacity, into minor gods so you can jump further up the celestial hierarchy and ultimately become the avatar for a goddess of far greater standing than Her Majesty’s ancestor and thereby have the potential to transform this entire country into radioactive ooze with a snap of your omnipotent fingers.”

“Yes,” Eric said.

Siron flexed his fingers in a manner that was code for “I am pissed off but too prim and proper to express it.” What he said was this sentiment fed through a politeness translator. “Mercenary Watley, you have my deepest appreciation for aiding Her Majesty in the past and I know you are an important person to her, so it is with all due respect and civility that I say the following.” He grabbed the doorframe. “Get out.”

He slammed the door in Eric’s face.

“That could have gone better,” Kallen said from her position of leaning against the far wall.

After resolving the inter-class romance in Dnnac Ledo, the chaos knights traveled to Roalt Castle to collect the first ingredient they needed for the Chaos Avatar Ritual. Walking from the Arch of Kresnik to the royal bedchamber was a simple matter. Everyone knew that Eric was the queen’s confidant, so they left him alone. The only one that didn’t was Siron.

Inside the royal bedroom, the noble leaned against the doorframe and rubbed his forehead. Trickster’s Chosen with god complexes were the last thing he needed right now. The sound of someone heaving drew his attention to the royal bed.

It was a magnificent creation; four posters created from special Mithran trees that gave off a soothing aroma and had been carved by hand into a fire motif. Semi-opaque curtains of Aranid spider silk concealed the sleeper while granting them enough visibility to see beyond. Red and white sheets of the finest quality and decorated in the royal style kept them warm and comfortable. It set a fine contrast with its current inhabitant and her prized possession, a plain plastic bucket.

“Your Majesty is a lightweight.”

Kasile groaned. “My head hurts when you call me that.”

Siron allowed himself a tiny smile. “Which one?”

She rolled over. “…Both…”

“Next time, I recommend you do not try to outdrink Vis-Count Gregory Plonio. The man has orc blood in him and you know what they say about orcs.”

“….eggh…royal….dignity…ahhh…demanded it…”

“Do you feel dignified right now?” Siron asked.

“No.”

“Here, let me wipe away that slime before you get any more of it on the sheets.”

Reluctantly, Kasile drew back the covers. Her face was pale, her hair stringy, her eyes puffy, and bits of vomit and mucus clung to her lips and nose. His eyes crinkled at the sight, which made her frown. Still amused, he withdrew a plain handkerchief and cleaned her face.

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