Chapter 29: Honest Recruitment
There are three kinds of creatures that exist in this world— the sentient races like humans and demi-humans, the natural species like chicken, cow, wolves, and all sorts of animals, and the 'monsters' which possesses monstrous abilities that can change the ecosystem in an area just by their appearance alone.
'Monster' is not exactly the right word to call these creatures with 'monstrous abilities', as they truly aren't monsters. They just have unique properties that are so magical, people fear them for what they are. In some academic journals, scholars most often refer to these creatures as magical species.
There are all kinds of magical species in this world like slimes, lamias, gorgons, griffins, etcetera.
"Spread out, accomplish your objectives as fast as you can. By dusk, we should be sneaking on the county by then." I tell my fellow elves.
Except for Zeraya, Trudviar, and Varen, all of the other elves scatter to search for wild beasts. Our purpose for coming here to Larson Mountain is for honest recruitment. Handily, we have more Berserker Potions in our possession. I can kindly share some of them with the wild beasts here.
To make our 'hunts' here in Larson Mountain easier, I had Allenwood concoct a sleeping poison for us to use. Since getting my hands on the old alchemist, I make it among my priorities to collect herbs. Before leaving the Zaun manor, I had Ririn gather me some. I also didn't spare the Philmore township's storage.
Because of this forethought, Allenwood has plenty enough resources to play with.
Zeraya leads our small party of four. With her adventuring days, she isn't so unfamiliar with hunting a magical species. In Larson Mountain, there is a mountain god that some of the villages revere. No one was able to see its form, but chances are it is a magical species.
"Stop," Varen with excellent sense speaks to us. "We are being followed." He guards our rear with vigilance with a bow in hand. If not for him, 'something' might have ambushed us.
Zeraya has a serious look on her face. "It should be a stalker. They are solitary shadow creatures. They are parasitic in nature… And worth more trouble than their weight in gold. No one would want them in the market because they lack value. But if we are talking about its fighting ability… Even a veteran adventurer will die against it."
"How are you so sure? Maybe it is just some wolf?" Trudviar optimistically says as he grips his metal.
Zeraya exhibits her knowledge as an adventurer. "There are no insects here. Not even ants, crickets, or anything. Stalkers are highly carnivorous, and their habits are quite unique among monsters. Among monsters, the habit of 'stalking' is quite rare. If you are being followed yet you see no tracks, it can only be a Stalker hiding in its shadow pocket."
I ask out of curiosity. "How much of a threat is it? Does its parasitism have limitations?"
Zeraya, my personal monster encyclopedia, tells me what I want to know. "The threat depends on what kind of host the stalker possesses. A Wolf Stalker can level a township with its pack of wolves. If you are worried the Stalker might parasitize on you, then don't. They cannot parasitize an intelligent creature. Once parasitized, they can no longer leave their host."
The alert Varen suddenly lets loose of an arrow. "There are some rustling there… Did I hit it?" He anxiously asks. I can tell that whatever he is 'sensing', is weird and beyond his comprehension. This is what a magical species is like.
I strain my eyes and look at where Varen's arrow makes its mark. The arrow simply stands some meters away from us standing upright on the ground. Did Varen hit nothing? I don't believe it. I focus on the arrow and see the shadow below it squirming.
The shadow is enormous and it resembles… a bear.
"Run!" Zeraya shouts already dragging me by my wrist.
The shadow squirms, and slowly, it rises from the darkness like a beast that has been lurking in the swamp. Leaving its shadow pocket, an enormous bear with blackened eyes lands its predatory gaze on us.
I see Varen's arrow piercing the Bear's paw. The beast cries with a mad howl in pain and anger as it chases us. I conclude the beast must be very vulnerable while hiding under its shadow pocket.
I run hard trailing Zeraya. Varen and Trudviar similarly chase our footsteps. I glance at the bear dashing towards us with great momentum "Should we climb on the trees?"
"No," Zeraya shuts off my suggestion at once as she glances at the chasing bear. "Stalkers inherit the strengths of their host, and black bears are notoriously good climbers."
I tell her trying to think of a way out. "Can we not just scare it? Aren't Black Bears timid, and should run away if we just make ourselves look big?"
Zeraya doesn't even need to take a second look at the beast as she tells me that we cannot. "It is not a 'Black Bear' that is chasing us, but the Stalker. These shadow creatures are very vengeful, so we can only run for now."
I keep up with my party as we run in a circle. I am so thankful that the elf body is so gifted, I manage to improve my stamina a lot in the several weeks of just simply physically training my body. Still, I feel that sooner or later, I won't be able to keep up as the shortness of breath is finally getting to me.
Varen with his excellent sense didn't escape his observation of my current situation. I see him about to retrieve a vial of dark murky liquid, the Berserker Potion. I hold his wrist giving him a look.
Just don't.
It is not time yet.
So we continue to circle around playing the beast like a fool. We cannot scatter as that might aggravate the bear more. We can only circle as we are afraid it might stumble on the other elves. Varen is especially hardworking as he shoots an arrow or two at the bear.
Despite coating his arrows with a sleeping poison, it appears that the bear would need a long time for it to fall into slumber. I trust Allenwood's abilities. It should work. If not now, then later.
It feels so stupid to go round and round, playing tag with that damn bear, but this is all part of the process. I just wish I won't die from lameness. That will be so horrible, I'd rather die from bad luck like say… a lightning strike from above?
Nah, that's too much.
After a good sweat. The Stalker Bear is finally asleep. I feel my haggard breath and my sweat trickling down my face. I feel my heart pumping lots of blood into my veins. That is some good sweating.
"Art," Trudviar worriedly looks at me. "You might die taking a Berserker Potion at this rate… Shouldn't you just return home?"
This bastard surely is cursing me. Are you looking down on my resolve? Sigh… I know he only means good to me, but the aura of death is hanging above us. Trudviar says to me that I should go home with such a serious tone.
I shrug off the abrupt seriousness in the air with a laugh. It isn't forced, but just me acting it out. I cannot have Trudviar of all people lose trust in me at this point. "Come on, my lovable uncle Trudviar. With me on the helm, a miracle might grace us, you know?" I jest at him.
Trudviar frowns but didn't give another word.
Zeraya however has a different opinion from me on the matter. "Trudviar is right, your majesty. You should go back. You are just a figurehead anyway." She hurtfully says to me, and it is clear as day, she is supporting Trudviar's opinion.
I glance at Varen nodding his head at Zeraya's words.
I might just be a figurehead, but I still have my use. "Though 'figureheads' aren't really that great if you call of them as such, they actually carry great value to them. I didn't exactly tell all of you what my main objective is in throwing myself into this unredeemable pit. What I can tell you though is that humans need an object of 'fear', and for that to happen— it must be me…"
Trudviar doesn't really get it, but Zeraya's knowing look seems to tell me that she has an idea of what I am talking about.
With an unyielding tone, she shoots down at my words. "No, it can also be me…" She says with such confidence. "Cruelty is a method, and you have taught me this with what happened to Wisley…"
Trudviar and Varen find themselves in confusion at the mention of an unrelated party.
Zeraya continues. "I cannot even begin to imagine what kind of cruel atrocities you are about to do after you get past those walls. I can imagine your 'objective' however… But let me tell you, your majesty, it will be a great loss for all of the elven race to lose you. If you wish to become the fearsome tyrant of blood, then please don't… Let me fill your place. I am a more apt candidate as I am a half-elf."
I hide my thoughts and emotions from them. Imagine a half-elf in my place becoming the 'object' of fear. It certainly has an appeal to it. I forlornly look at Zeraya. She is so beautiful, so selfless, and yet miserable.
For Zeraya to say this to me means that she doesn't even entertain the thought of reuniting with her mother. I recall under the starry night how she opens up to me, of how she is longing for a possibility where she might reunite with her only remaining blood kin.
"I am irreplaceable, Zeraya…" I sternly tell her. "You cannot act as I do, say the things I say like I do, and you are just… a half-elf…"
I turn around from them and descend from the mountain. The clock is ticking, and dusk is almost upon us. I am just another elf to the workings of the world. I am never a King.
What kind of King doesn't have a Kingdom?
The answer— is a pretender.
And I am about to finish this pretending, with a glorious final presentation. Zeraya and the others have the wrong idea about me. I am just a delusional King walking a path toward self-destruction.
They should have known this... After all, we all share this self-destructive path... And I am its figurehead leading this procession.
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