New Eden: Live to Play, Play to Live Chapter 68 Wrong Turn

As the flash of light died down, Sarnor re-opened her eyes. Her adversary was gone from his spot, but something made her smile slightly.

The tip of her sword was bloodied, on a length of about three inches and it was still dripping. That meant she had struck true.

One of the surrounding soldiers walked up to her.

“Ma’am! Should we tell the king he has escaped?” The man asked, saluting the woman.

“No. I shall report to sa majesté myself.” She responded, dismissing the man.

Sarnor pulled out a cloth from her belt and cleaned the tip of her rapier. Judging by the length of the blood smear, she was almost certain she had pierced his heart.

Even if the boy had escaped, she was confident to say that unless he received immediate treatment from high-tier healing magic, he would die before the end of the day.

She was confident in her knowledge of anatomy to know that the boy would bleed from the inside and die from internal bleeding.

With this thought in mind, she smiled as she made her way back toward the castle gates. She would seek an audience with the king herself and announce the good news in person.

She could already smell the promotion on the horizon. She had been stuck at the rank of Major for a while, and she hoped this would fix her problem.

When Sarnor reached the castle gates, the royal guards let her through without even looking. She walked to the palace, where she went to ask for an audience with the king, to his attendant.

The attendant nodded to her before leaving to seek the king. After a little while, the attendant came back to her.

‘The king will see you in the audience chamber in thirty minutes. He said to wait there.’ The attendant told Sarnor.

She nodded her head back at him and walked to the audience chamber. She walked in and walked to the set of stairs that led to the throne.

Sarnor stopped there and kneeled, waiting for the king to arrive. She entertained her mind with fantasies of becoming a general and leading armies to battle.

She had always dreamt of riding into battle, thousands of men at her back. Ever since she was little, she had looked up to the kingdom’s generals, even when said generals were banished for treason.

While she was daydreaming, the king entered the chambers through the door behind the throne. He walked up to the throne and sat lazily on it.

“I was told you have intercepted my prisoner. Where is he?” King Vhol’drokk asked, almost yawning.

“Yes, I have, majesté. I have dealt with it.” Sarnor responded, her head still hanging low.

“But where is he now?” The king asked again, in annoyance.

“My king, the boy has escaped. But he…” She started saying, before being interrupted.

“He WHAT?!” The king howled, standing from his throne.

“He escaped, but he will not go far, my king!” Sarnor quickly replied before the king got the wrong idea.

“Why? Did you mark him or something?” Vhol’drokk asked, slightly hopeful.

“No, sire. Better yet. I inflicted a deadly wound on the criminal. He will not live through the day.” She said, lifting her head with a victorious smile.

The king’s face went still. He smiled warmly, a smile that most people would recognize as the epitome of fake smiles.

Sarnor, none the wiser, thought her king was proud of her. She looked at him proudly, as he walked down the steps to the throne, until he was standing before her.

*SLAP* *BANG*

Vhol’drokk raised his arm so fast, Sarnor did not even see it blur, as it came back down at her face. The slap contained such strength, that any normal person would have died on the spot.

But Sarnor was a battle-hardened veteran. When the king’s hand contacted her face, she was sent flying into the nearby wall, with incredible force.

“You IDIOT!” The king shouted.

“I needed him ALIVE!” He added, in fury.

Sarnor got back up from the rubble, her face bloodied and her body covered in debris and dust. She looked at the king in a terrified stupor.

“But majesté. I thought he was a criminal to be sentenced to death?” She tried defending her actions.

“I needed answers from him! Not death! How could you presume to know what I thought! YOU! Who can’t even get your own men’s respect!” The king howled, belittling her.

“My king, I apologize! Please let me make this right.” Sarnor started pleading, throwing herself at the king’s feet.

She kept her head to the floor, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She had made a terrible mistake.

“Had he just escaped, I would have been disappointed only. But now, you leave me no choice.” The king started saying, trying to regain his cool.

“Majesté! Please no!” Sarnor pleaded harder.

“I banish you! Until you find that boy’s corpse and bring it back to me, you are not to step foot in this city again! Am I clear?!” Vhol’drokk said, turning his back to Sarnor.

Sarnor clenched her fists. She held her tears back and got up.

“Yes, my king! I shall bring his corpse back if it’s the last thing I do!” Sarnor pledged.

“Now, begone, idiot girl. Before you sour my mood further.” The king waved her away.

Sarnor performed a salute before rushing out of the audience chamber. She almost ran out of the palace, going to her private quarters in the military part of the castle to gather her things.

Once she made her bag, she left the place with a sense of bitterness. She might never see these quarters again.

She vowed to herself to find that boy, alive or dead, and bring him back to her king. Sarnor then closed the door and left the castle and city, not looking behind.

Meanwhile, in the audience chamber, the king was still sitting on the throne, chewing at his nails. He had called for his court mage to come to him.

The mage had been resting when a servant knocked at his tower’s door. When the servant explained the situation to him, Gelum’vire shooed him away before getting dressed.

He walked in a quick stride towards the audience chamber, having a good guess why the king had called upon his presence. Once he got to the door, he pushed it in, not even announcing his arrival.

“Gelum’vire! Finally, you are here.” The king said, standing up.

“The servant apprised me of the situation, my king. What can I do for you?” The court mage asked, bowing slightly.

“I want you to scry the boy’s whereabouts before he dies. We need to find him, preferably before he dies, so we can fix this darned situation.” The king said, pacing in front of the throne.

“My king, if the boy is already dead, it will not work.” Gelum’vire replied.

“I know! That is why I am asking you to do this fast. We have a chance that he still lives.” Vhol’drokk urged the mage.

“I understand, my king. I will need to prepare the materials for the scrying spell. May I take my leave?” The mage asked, bowing again.

“Yes, yes. Hurry.” The king waved him away.

Gelum’vire did not need to be told twice, as he rushed out of the audience chambers. They needed to act fast if they were to salvage this situation.

He almost ran back to his tower, which was thankfully the nearest one, and gathered all the materials he needed for the spell. All he would need now was something the query had touched.

He again almost ran back to the audience chamber, entering without announcing himself and fast walking to before the steps.

“I have almost everything, my king. All I am missing is something the boy has touched. I assume we still have the magic-suppressing cuffs he wore?” Gelum’vire asked while he prepared the rest of the spell.

King Vhol’drokk nodded and waved at a servant to fetch them. They had kept the cuffs nearby, as the locksmith was figuring out if someone had tampered with them.

They were brought into the room quickly. The servant quickly handed them to the mage before stepping back at a healthy distance.

The mage grabbed the cuffs and placed them before him, just in front of a crystal ball. He then murmured an incantation before his head kicked back and his eyes turned white.

The scene lasted only a short moment before Gelum’vire returned to himself.

“My king, I have good news and bad news.” He announced.

“I have no time for riddles, mage. Tell me.” The king said, sitting on the throne and tapping his foot.

“The good news is, the boy is alive.” He started saying.

“Marvelous! We can still save this mess.” The king jumped, happy this wasn’t yet irreparable.

“Where is he, then?” He asked.

“That… My king, that is the bad news. The boy is no longer on our plane.” Gelum’vire said, smiling wryly.

“What do you mean, not in our plane? Speak plainly, mage!” The king barked.

“I cannot track his position, as he is no longer in our world. The teleportation spell that took him, brought him to another plane of existence.” Gelum’vire said, lowering his head in defeat.

The king became pale. If that was true, then that meant they could never get him back, much less keep him alive.

This was a catastrophe. Lady Anulo would have his head.

King Vhol’drokk crashed back into his throne, despair gripping him. He was doomed.

Meanwhile, in another plane, Astaroth appeared. He clutched at his chest in pain, dropping to his knees.

“Shit! She got me.” He said, squeezing his thorax.