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Victor 11.20 - A Change of Plans
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 21:04:11 +0000 UTCEnjoy the chapter!
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Plum
20 – A Change of Plans
It turned out that Victor hadn’t made a mistake with his weaving of the thread. Rather, he’d gotten the pattern wrong. Midway through tracing the fear-attuned thread through the complicated structure, he realized he’d created a branch that tilted back and to the right, which should have tilted left for a cleaner connection to the primary pattern. He was operating by feel, using the inspiration granted by his domain to guide his hand, so it really wasn’t surprising that he might make mistakes. In all honesty, he was surprised there weren’t more of them.
When he finished making the fix, he stood back and admired the completed work. The new pattern made from the thread related to his memory of using his Aspect of Terror was much tighter and took up a smaller percentage of the frame than the one representing his triumph over Rellia. It was smaller, but it was complicated and beautiful. It was all angles and aggressive swoops, and it reminded Victor of something predatory.
It was red, but starkly different from the other thread. The first was glossy, bright, and metallic, and this one was darker, such a deep crimson that when seen from a certain angle, it was almost black.
“All right, let’s see if I fixed anything.” He reached into the framework, found the lever for the threadlock, and tugged it closed. Immediately, the System rewarded him with a message:
***Congratulations! You’ve reforged your mantle: The Crimson Star has become The Night-Crowned Flame – Epic. This mantle was born in fury, guided by hope, and shaped by glory. It was reforged through love and tempered by mercy, but it now bears the mark of terror, woven with the memory of dread made manifest. It is a mantle of paradox—of fire crowned in shadow, of a conqueror who spares, a monster who chooses restraint.
New Feat Gained: Dread Presence – Your aura now unsettles your enemies. It radiates not only power, but consequence. It stirs the hearts of your allies and steals the breath of those who would stand against you. You are the Night-Crowned Flame—the judgment, the reckoning, the fire in the dark. This effect is cumulative with other such feats or effects.***
“Yes!” Victor punched his fist into his palm in his early excitement, but as he read the message again, it didn’t seem as big a breakthrough as he’d hoped; the mantle was still epic. Even so, he supposed he should be happy with a new feat, and, more importantly, the knowledge that he could gain feats. Beyond that, he had no idea if there were different stages of “epic.” For all he knew, adding this new thread and gaining that feat had moved his mantle incrementally closer to the next stage.
Whatever the case, he was determined not to consider it a failure. Looking at his framework, he figured he had room for quite a few more threads, even if he wove them into complicated elder patterns. If nothing else, he felt like he was on the right track.
Satisfied for the moment, he turned his gaze inward and traveled out of his spirit space, returning his consciousness to his body. It was midday when he opened his eyes, and he looked back over his time in the spirit space, trying to determine how long he’d been working on his mantle. At least two days, he decided. He stood and stretched, then looked out over the parapets, taking stock of the progress in his little kingdom.
The soldiers were drilling in the fields, and it looked like there were more of them. Beyond those fields, he saw the growing town. The road had been built up with proper berms and culverts, and several branching, smaller roads led off into the once-empty fields. He counted nearly twenty new buildings going up. Even so, the general atmosphere of the place held a wild, frontier town vibe.
There were encampments all over the fields—tents, ramshackle structures, and wagons. The roads were dirt and deeply rutted by the heavy traffic. Makeshift animal corals and the men and women who guarded their livestock were everywhere. As people gained levels now that they weren’t forbidden to do so, Victor hoped that some Elementalists would come into some power and help shape the roads and speed along the construction.
He yawned and wondered if it was boredom or if his body had finally begun to tire. He didn’t think it was the latter; it had only been a week or so since he slept and met with Tes. Thinking of that visit got him thinking about his other acquaintances, and Victor resolved to sit down and go through his Farscribe books. It was about time he let some people know how things were going and began to make plans for his eventual takeover of the System Stone in Riverbend.
He sat down and pulled out the book he shared with Arona. It was nearly empty, but there were a couple of messages in the early pages and one that he hadn’t read before:
Victor,
I hope this message finds you well. Matters progress nicely here on Ruhn. Kynna listens to my counsel, though I often have to fight for her time. She’s constantly hounded by the demands of relatives, close and distant. Moreover, the nobility pester her with petty petitions, demanding her help with squabbles and disagreements. I’ve encouraged her to delegate such matters, and she’s begun to do so, though you know how she is: her heart bleeds for every displaced retainer, every cousin of this or that champion who was slain during the war.
I’ve thwarted two assassination attempts, but you’ll be pleased to know that your mentor, Kynna’s great ancestor, has finally come through with some help for her. Two men arrived last week who claim to be adept at statecraft. I’m familiar with one of them, or at least his family. They’re well-known on Sojourn and have produced several council members over the years. The two men seem clever enough, and they’re motivated to help Kynna because Ranish Dar has promised them one-on-one tutelage if they perform well.
All that’s to say, as happy as I am here, I am ready to join you whenever possible. I hope that time draws nigh.
With much affection,
Arona Moonshadow
Victor found himself smiling as he read the letter, not so much at the contents—though those were reason enough—but at the thought of Arona sitting in Kynna’s palace, penning the thing. She’d become a good friend over the last many months, and he missed her. The thought of her being there with him on Dark Ember was almost enough to get him to launch into the air on fiery magma wings to assault Riverbend right that very moment. He was tired of making every decision and feeling short-handed with regard to helping out his nascent army.
“I need help,” he groaned. The truth was, he needed more than Arona. He needed experienced staff and well-trained soldiers to whip these new troops into proper shape. He needed experts on logistics, engineering, and… everything! He had resources; he was probably the second-most wealthy landholder on the entire planet of Ruhn, and it was a big, rich planet. More than that, the empress of that planet owed him favors.
Nodding to himself, he summoned a pen and put it to the page beside Arona’s missive:
Arona,
It’s very good to hear from you, and I’m happy to hear that Kynna’s doing all right, adjusting to her new role. As I write this, I’m sitting atop the only tower of a squat, ugly little keep I captured from a vampire lord. My army, some seven or eight hundred peasants, is training in the muddy fields, and there are thousands more peasants struggling to build a town not far away.
I’ve killed off most of the vampires in the countryside, but the lord of these lands, a veil walker of unknown strength, is holed up in the capital where the System Stone awaits. As soon as I kill him, I’ll use that stone to return to Iron Mountain—not to stay, but to gather you and other reinforcements. You see, if you can’t tell from my initial paragraph, I need some help around here.
To that end, I have some work for you to do, if you don’t mind. I’d like you to ask Kynna if we can borrow her Spatial Magus, Florent. First, I’d like you to have him create a permanent gateway between my palace at Iron Mountain and my home on Fanwath. You’ll need to create a proper space for it on my property—something fortified but accessible to large numbers of people. I know he’ll need to create portal keystones and power stones, so pay him whatever he needs from my coffers. Ask Draj Haveshi for access to the funds. Show him this note if he gives you any trouble.
When that’s done, tell Florent that he must start preparing whatever will be required to create a permanent portal to this world. I can’t be stuck using the System to travel between these worlds every time, nor could I afford it if I wanted to move, say, an army such a distance. Explain to him that the distance is vast, and if that requires some special materials or extra Energy, he should spare no expense. Obviously, I’ll bring him here the first time through the System Stone so he can set up this end of the gateway.
So, you see, with a portal from Fanwath to Iron Mountain and one from there to Dark Ember, I should be able to move my allies and supplies here easily. I’m sure most of my friends from the Free Marches will want to stay out of this war, but I know there will be many who are eager to fight, especially those I freed from enthrallment to the Death Casters from this world during the campaign there.
As for Ruhn, perhaps you could spread the word that I’ll soon need some high-level soldiers for a lengthy campaign of conquest. Tell Bryn; I have a feeling she’ll be eager to get some practice with that golden glaive of hers.
Finally, please have my stewards at Iron Mountain gather more supplies for the campaign. I’m still well-stocked, but I’m sure that as the campaign moves beyond this valley and my army continues to grow, I’ll need more food, basic armor, and weapons. Tell Draj not to be stingy; the wealth I gain from conquering this world will more than pay any debts to Iron Mountain, with interest.
If Kynna’s keeping you too busy to handle all this, pass as much of it off to Bryn as you like; she can handle it.
Thanks, Arona, and I’m looking forward to seeing you.
-Victor
Feeling better already, simply for having organized his thoughts and delegated some work to Arona, Victor stood up and stretched. He had more Farscribe books to get through, but he wanted to have a stretch and a look around first. He jumped down to the courtyard, nodding to the soldiers moving here and there, and then Kris saw him and came rushing out of the keep.
“Lord Victor!” he called.
Victor waved, waiting for him to approach. “How’s it going, Seneschal?”
“Very good, milord. No incidents to report. This morning, we rotated the hunting parties with your great hounds. The returning soldiers had much to report. Shall we go over the specifics?”
“In a minute. Have you heard anything from the soldiers with the quest? The ones who went up into the hills a couple of days ago?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, milord.”
Victor nodded, concentrating briefly as he sent his awareness out, reaching for his bear totem. He felt him there, distant, but not significantly so. He gave Victor the impression he was resting, standing watch while he waited for something. He didn’t seem alarmed in any way, so Victor shrugged and refocused on Kris. “Okay, well, be sure to let me know if you hear anything.”
“Of course, milord. May I broach a subject with you?” Kris looked nervous as he spoke, wringing his hands before him and glancing to the side. Victor was taken aback, admonishing himself silently for losing sight of the fact that Kris, like all of his people, would never have had the courage to speak to one of the vampire lords of that land without first being commanded to. Every time he approached Victor and spoke openly like that, he was fighting back decades of conditioning and centuries of ingrained societal proprieties.
Victor smiled and folded his hands behind his back as he looked down at the man. “Speak freely, Kris. I’m listening.”
“Speaking over dinner the other day—me and my aides—we had a thought: wouldn’t it be nice if this keep and the town out yonder had a new name? Gloomhallow doesn’t seem fitting anymore.”
Victor nodded, his smile broadening. “You’re damn right, Kris. Did you have any ideas?”
“Well, when we opened the topic up to broader discussion, Miss Enora, one of the cleaning lasses, thought we ought to call it Bright Star on account of the wonderful light you put up there above the tower. Lots of people liked that idea, but then Grace from Southford suggested Bright Town.”
Victor did his best to look encouraging as the man spoke, and he grinned, nodding enthusiastically as Kris finished his little spiel. “Sounds great to me. We could shorten it a little, I think there are some towns or cities with a similar name on my homeworld—well, our homeworld. I mean, at least your ancestors were from there. How does Brighton sound?”
“Brighton! Rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it, milord?”
Victor nodded. Resting one of his big hands on Kris’s narrow shoulder. “I bet there aren’t any places with that name on Dark Ember. We’ll change that.” He squeezed Kris’s shoulder, jostling him gently. “Make it known. Spread the word. This is Brighton Keep, and that mess of a town out there is Brighton. Now, tell me what the troops returning from the north had to say.”
“Of course, milord. The soldiers who returned last reported most of the villages they passed through as being deserted. We believe most of the residents are moving south. Some stop here to join the growing populace out there in, um, Brighton, and some move through, putting more distance between themselves and Lord Fausto’s remaining forces.”
“Most of the residents? Where are the rest of them going?”
“Well, milord, rumors are spreading in the north that Fausto’s remaining Bloodcloaks are taking whole families and even communities to the capital. They say he’s making thralls of them—real thralls, with a crimson boon.” He looked to the side and spat.
“He’s making them drink his blood?”
“Aye.”
“Building an army?”
Kris nodded. “Captain Tasya thinks so, milord.”
Victor nodded, thinking. When he’d killed Dunstan, his “thralls” had been freed of the curse of his blood. He couldn’t do anything to save the ones who’d become full-fledged vampires, but the thralls weren’t a lost cause. Of course, that only made things more difficult for him. If he built up his army, got them all close to level thirty, and marched on Riverbend, how many thralls would die? How many of his troops would he lose? Maybe the answer was just to go up there and call the bastard out.
“Milord?” Kris took a step back, and Victor realized he’d begun to scowl.
He waved his hand placatingly. “It’s nothing, Kris. I’m just thinking about how I’m going to handle this. It seems like this might be the wrong vampire lord to attack with an army. He has no standing army—just the Bloodcloaks we’ve been killing and the warg packs that roam the lands. If I attack that city with this army, the only thing that’ll accomplish is to get a bunch of humans killed. There will come a time for armies to fight, don’t get me wrong. Some of the lords of Dark Ember will have monstrous hordes, and we’ll need people to hold cities, passes, keeps, and towns as we advance, but—”
“Advance, milord?” Kris threw a hand to his mouth, horrified that he’d interrupted Victor. “I’m so sorry, mil—”
“No, it’s fine. Yeah, we’re going to advance. Did you think we’d stop with Lord Fausto? He’s just the first domino.”
Kris mouthed “domino,” and Victor chuckled, shaking his head.
“I mean, he’s the first vampire lord to fall. Once we’ve captured his city, we’ll be able to really get the ball rolling on this conquest. I’ll call in some reinforcements, we’ll get the proper supplies going, and then we’ll march south through the pass. That’s all beside the point, though. What I’m trying to say is that I might be stalling for nothing here. I don’t think attacking Riverbend with an army is the right move. A siege is more like it. Yeah, we’ll surround that town, and then I’ll go in there and kill that bastard.”
Victor nodded as he spoke. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was right. Killing a bunch of thralls with his fledgling army wouldn’t accomplish anything other than further reducing the human population in the universe. He had a feeling some of the vampire lords would have monstrous armies. Surely, some had borders where they clashed regularly. Those lords would have thousands of vampires or undead fiends…
He shook his head, refocusing on Kris. “Do me a favor and let my captains know that I want to meet with them.” Kris looked troubled, so Victor hastily added, “I appreciate you bringing this information to me. You’re doing a great job.”
“Thank you, milord. Are—” He stopped short, hesitating.
“Go on. What is it?”
“Are you sure you have to face him, milord? Things seem good here, and if he leaves us be…” He trailed off, licking lips that looked suddenly very dry. “What I mean to say is, we’ve got lives here that seem good. That’s a new thing for all of us. What if—”
“What if I die?” Victor clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Kris, think about what you’re saying. Do you think we should need to live in fear of losing what we have? Do you think we should have to hope some bastard lets us keep the good things in our lives? Even if we accepted that, how selfish would it be? There are thousands—maybe millions—of other people out there living rotten, horrible lives. We can’t just grab our freedom and leave them behind. At least I can’t.”
Tears had begun to pool in Kris’s eyes while Victor spoke, and he ducked his head, nodding and wringing his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m a coward, I suppose. I didn’t think—”
“Stop that.” Once again, Victor grabbed his shoulder, jostling it. “You’re not used to being allowed to think. That’s over now, and you and everyone else need to look into your hearts and find the spark that lives in there. You need to coax it into a fire and then you need to help spread that shit. We’re going to show these pinche rat vampires that humans aren’t sheep. You’re not fucking cattle.” He shook him again until the man looked up, and his eyes were harder as he nodded.
“I know you’re right, milord.”
“Good. Now go and get my captains.”
