Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 95: Old, Miserable Man

The large doors of Luvengart’s Fort burst open and Baron Eutheo trodded inside, his coat falling down his shoulders. He handed the garment to a guard standing by the door and marched to his throne, muttering something to himself.

"How was the travel, Lord Eutheo?" his adviser, a leaning old man named Shedrock, asked as Eutheo sauntered past him.

"What do you think, Shedrock?" Eutheo scoffed. "The whole thing was a spectacle. The Kings liked to pretend otherwise, but we could all see it. They loathe each other."

"They are adversaries," Shedrock said. "It is only natural."

Eutheo paused by his throne, then let out a silent laugh. "I suppose you are right. Such is the way of Kingdoms. Such is the way of realms."

He thought about it for a moment, then decided, nevertheless, to relay his irritation. "I only find it deceptive to present such a false image to us. Makes me feel they see us as monkeys, controlled by pictures, easy to deceive."

He sat on his throne. "Especially in such a time as this."

Shedrock ambled towards the Baron’s throne, his cane strong on the ground with each step. Shedrock was a strong man. More than strong enough for his age.

"Well? Forgive me, my Lord. But I am greatly curious," the old man said. "Was anyone chosen from Luvengart?"

Eutheo looked down at him. Then he shook his head. "No."

Shedrock grimaced, the excitement leaving his tender eyes. "But... we had two promising young Awakeners."

"They would never have made it," Eutheo waved Shedrock off. "Not with the kind of talents they had there. Did you know that the daughter of King Galadrien—striking young girl—is a Healer Mage with a Mythic Talent?"

The light returned to Shedrock’s eyes, but this time, it was shock. "A Mythic Talent Healer Mage?"

"Yes," Eutho pouted with disinterest. "The only one we knew for certain that would have made the Party died in the Demon Gate World in Hollowcreek."

Shedrock frowned. "Willow?"

"Yes," answered Eutheo. "The girl was the weakest amongst the others, but she was also the youngest. Undeniably she would have reached the Level Cap. Her Talent was a Legendary one as well."

The men were both silent for a while, their minds replaying memories of the city’s strongest Awakeners, while thinking of how they were going to relay the news to their family members. They were yet too.

Eutheo had been busy.

Or at least, he liked to believe that he had, as it was a fitting excuse to escape the unbearable burden he presently had before him.

After he was informed of the death of his Awakeners in Hollowcreek—the deserted province in Eldermoor—his mind was scrambled with what to do.

At first, he had attempted to meet the Guilds and the Academies in his city, to implore them to give him some of their best and most promising Awakeners, but he quickly changed his mind.

The Guilds and Academies would ask questions about the ones under his care. The ones he used to send on secret missions that he had told them never to inform anyone else.

Once Eutheo had no answer, calamity would strike. His power as Baron could only hold them back for a short time.

They were the Guilds, the Academies; they had branches everywhere in the world. It would not take long for word to reach the Duke... and if an investigation began and the portal was found...

No. No. That idea was abandoned quicker than it had been conjured.

"That brings us into a much grimmer subject that demands your attention, Lord Eutheo," Shedrock spoke, reminding Eutheo of the very thing he was pondering about.

An annoying feeling.

"Has Ithalan sealed the Gate like I told him to?" Eutheo asked.

Shedrock played with the bulb of his cane. "Lewik, the Messenger says so." He paused. "He also says that it is merely three days left before the Demons inside burst out, and that seal wouldn’t hold them for any more than an hour."

Eutheo looked down at the old man, raising an eyebrow. "There’s a flavor in your voice, Shedrock. It is like garlic. Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Perhaps," the old advisor reapplied rather quickly. "But unless I have the permission to speak freely, my garlic thoughts shall remain hidden, only sneaking its taste into my words. But never with intent... my Lord."

Eutheo stared at the man a bit longer, his face not truly angered, but not necessarily pleased either.

He sighed. "Go ahead and speak, Shedrock. Rather your words than that distasteful look on your face."

Shedrock didn’t hesitate. "You are being incompetent." He clanged the base of his cane on the floor.

Eutheo’s brows creased. "Incompetent?"

"Luvengart has reaped the benefits of your secret pact with the Duke of Hollowcreek. We have flourished. But you have allowed it to get into your head. You’ve become prideful. The very thing that shows its ugly head right before fall!"

Shedrock glared his old, wide eyes at him. "Three days! Three days are left before the world is forcefully introduced to actual Demons, and you sit on your throne as though it was but a nuisant nightmare."

"Hollowcreek will fall first. But before any other province in Eldermoor, we, Luvengart, will fall next. They will banish you, and they will execute us who knew of it!"

He knocked on the floor again with his cane. "What is your plan to stop it all? What are you to do, Lord Eutheo?! Three days are left!"

"Do you think I’m not aware, you old miserable man?!" Eutheo suddenly boomed at his advisor, causing him to jerk backwards. "Do you think its only brooding, ancient old fuckers like you who were blessed by the gods with the gift of worrying?"

He squeezed his armrest, glaring at Shedrock. "You said it yourself. You have all enjoyed the fruits of my labor, of my sacrifice, my pact with Ithalan. And just because things have become dire, you dare raise your voice at me. You want to turn me, ME, into a scapegoat for your fear and anger?"

"Have you lost your ancient man, Shedrock?!"

Silence filled the courtroom.

The two men stared at each other, breathing quietly but intensely. The guards by the wall were like statues.

The silence stretched for a while longer and the men’s breathing finally cooled down. Their glares rested.

Eutheo settled back onto his throne and Shedrock rested but hands on the bulb of his cane, sighing.

No words of apology were spoken, but they both decided that the silence was enough to rest the issue.

Shedrock cleared his throat. "Did you see Grigor at the Summit?"

Eutheo was quiet for a while, then he let out his long held sigh. "We spoke. From what I gathered, he was the only one who wasn’t very excited about this Heroes’ Party situation." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"I heard his daughter was selected."

"Yes, but it was more than that. It seemed even the Chief Diviner shared his sentiment." He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"They spoke about convincing the Hero. I let them know that he is here in Luvengart. Perhaps if I convinced the Hero to speak to Grigor, he would be willing to lend me some Awakeners."

"And if they die?" Shedrock asked.

Eutheo raised his head to look at him.

"Have you forgotten what happened to your best?" Shedrock continued. "Why would it be any different with Grigor’s? Even worse, if Grigor’s Awakeners do not return, you’d have more questions to answer."

"I am doomed either way, Shedrock," Eutheo slammed his fist on his armrest. "This is my final play."

Shedrock gazed at the Baron, then took a deep breath. "Maybe not."

Eutheo raised a brow of hope.