The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 299: A desperate hope

"Sometimes I wish I'd known you were this crazy before I started sleepin' with you."

Becky apparently wasn't thrilled with Mason's dragon plan.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," he said, trying to rub her back to calm her down. "You'll all be right there. I'm just the uh, tip of the spear."

They were walking through the floating city with a pack of armed guards behind them, so they kept their voices low.

"And what exactly do we do if the bird men don't come out and fight? Did you think of that?"

Mason had, in fact, thought of that. It wasn't that he didn't 'trust' the prince and his guards. OK, it was partially that. But mostly it was just good to have a back up plan.

Plan A was basically this:

Mason would stand on what the bird people called the 'Tower of Hormuz', which was apparently where they offered their previous sacrifices to the dragons. He would appear chained and bound, as if the birdmen had betrayed or subdued him and were now offering him in apology.

When the dragon came to claim its prize, the prince and his warriors would all charge and attack the creature's wings with their spears. The players would leap out from their hiding spots, and Mason would throw off his bindings and start shooting. Hopefully, between all of them, this time they'd do enough damage to force the dragon to land.

The plan got a little fuzzy after that. But basically it was 'and then Mason and the players would somehow kill it'.

Plan B was pretty much the same thing, minus the birdmen. Though Mason reserved the right to flee, and let the big bastard just burn the city. It wasn't really a great plan.

"And what if we can't bring it down and it just keeps shootin' that crazy fire? I expect I can't stop it for long."

"You grew up Baptist. You could try prayer."

Becky gave a very pissed off sort of girlriend stare, and Mason put up his hands.

"OK. Bad joke. But we can't know exactly how a fight's going to go. Everyone has a plan until you punch them in the face. Or shoot dragon fire at them. Between my toughness and speed and your aegis, I'm not going down easy. Right?"

Becky nodded, and took his hand. "If it's going real bad, I'm making a wall over the top of the tower," she said.

Mason frowned, but didn't argue. He expected the dragon would just cut the tower in half or something, or blast right through her wall with a little time. But there wasn't much point in saying so.

"Just remember," he said, "when we get it to the ground, move your aegis. I'm thinking Carl. He's the most vulnerable and probably the best shot we have of actually killing this thing with that dagger of his."

"I know, I know." Becky let out a breath. "You think Rosa's vials'll do any good? I mean, we've got that acid, and healing, and I think she said that ointment should stop a bit of..."

"Against dragon fire? No. I mean, I guess it's better than nothing. We’ll all take the stat boosts. But..."

Becky grinned and made a suitably adorable Becky face.

"Ze goggles. Zey do nothink?"

"I'm sure that's a reference I should understand..."

"You didn't even watch The Simpsons?"

Mason shrugged helplessly and Becky shook her head.

"Didn't you go to school? Like with other kids?"

"Nope. Some private schools. But usually just tutors."

Becky rolled her eyes. "If we survive all this, we've got some basic education to catch up on with the system library. You're like one of them...Mormons. Or, you know, whadda you call 'em, lud something."

"Luddites.” Mason grinned. “And I think you meant Amish."

"OK, Private School." Becky rolled her eyes even harder and Mason couldn't help but smile.

"It’s a date. Useless pop culture education. Just as soon as we have the time. And when everything isn't trying to kill us."

"So never." Becky sighed, and Mason squeezed her hand. Anyway he suspected 'couch time' between him and Becky wouldn't involve a lot of actually watching TV, but he kept that thought to himself.

The tower was just ahead of them now, separated on its own floating platform, rising up a good hundred feet and slightly higher than the top of the castle. All civilians had been removed from the area, so the streets were empty and silent save for the armed escort.

Mason's ape 'friend' was back with his troop, the huge creatures armed this time with leather armor and sharp clubs. Mason wished he had more time. And with the thousandth curse, that Blake was here.

With his new 'Making' power his brother could have armed all these birds and apes with good, steel weapons that might have gone a long way to puncturing the dragon's hide.

Mason could only hope they had some kind of magic in the weapons that helped. Because otherwise he didn't much like their chances of actually hurting the thing. But then he imagined it was mostly going to come down to the players anyway, at least once the thing was on the ground and in a fight to the death.

"You are very stupid," said the ape man suddenly, stepping up beside Mason but looking ahead.

"Hello," Mason said. "How are your testicles?"

The big ape's lips pulled back, and Mason hoped it was a grin and not a sneer. Becky looked at them both and rolled her eyes, so that was a good sign.

The guards and players mostly walked in silence as the tower loomed. The little jokes and grins faded. Mason turned to the 'ground team', taking a moment to give Streak a scratch.

"I'll see you at the bottom," he said. Phuong nodded. Carl winked. Alex...didn't do anything perceptible.

Then Mason, Becky and Seamus climbed the tower's many steps, only Seamus puffing and panting as they reached the top.

The space to push up to the roof was cramped, with a sort of trap door above you threw open to crawl out of. Mason was squished up next to Becky, and she pushed against him and kissed him with a kind of intense, desperate energy he really hoped came back when he wasn't too busy to enjoy it.

"I'll be right here," she said, and Mason nodded.

"Me too," Seamus added. "Should we snog a little too, Becky, just in case?"

Mason couldn't help but grin a little. Becky rolled her eyes and with a last little peck on the cheek, Mason pulled himself up to the top of the tower. Several bird guards were already waiting with shackles and rope.

"You could at least look a bit less pleased about it," Mason grumbled. The guards grabbed his arms and legs, and started tying him, hopefully loosely, in the center of a large, ceremonial looking piece of...religious art, Mason supposed.

But it looked disturbingly like a huge feeding bowl.

* * *

"Let the fool die," said Vidra, queen of Rishna, frantically pacing across her throneroom.

Prince Aixa swallowed another of his physician's tinctures and tried to keep from vomiting. He'd been taking one every day since the illness began, but it never seemed to help much.

On the other hand, even in the hour or so since this priest of ‘Nephus’ had 'blessed him, he was actually feeling a little better. Though it was probably just a coincidence.

Of course the last hour had been a bit too chaotic to compare it to much. First, they'd had the strange priest and the powerful strangers—who Aixa’s finest captain said stood his ground in a fight with two Great Guard. That was concerning and exciting enough.

Then the Destroyer had arrived. Aixa’s house was already fraying at the seams, and he knew this may very well be the end of it. After his father's death the year before, he had inherited all titles along with two wars with a cousin and an uncle who wanted his throne.

Both the nobles and the people were losing faith in their house's ability to win them a peace. Prince Aixa had been ill for years, and without him there was only his sister and mother to rule.

His mother was old and unsuitable—too paranoid, too afraid of every shadow now in her twilight years. His sister was a graceful beauty who would make a wonderful queen in a time of peace. But right now their house needed strength. It needed a warrior king to frighten its enemies back to their places.

Aixa knew he had to marry his sister to the most powerful warlord he could find in the kingdoms. That it was the only way to secure a future for his house in his...absence. But he hadn't yet had the stomach, or perhaps, hadn't yet accepted the inevitable.

Now the wyrm had come...and for a brief moment after hearing its roar, he knew death finally came with it...

Or had it?

"He wounded it, mother," he said to the queen with as much calm as he could muster. "I saw the beast's wings fraying like tattered cloth. And if we can bring it down..."

"Just listen to yourself!" the queen cried. "Bring down a Destroyer with arrows and spears? Even if you could, then what? You think it can't destroy us all from the ground? You don't even know this outlander! What could you possibly be thinking?"

"That we are otherwise without hope!" Aixa said, rising and for once raising his voice. The outburst was enough to quiet his mother, her eyes finally filling with water. Aixa walked to her and took her arms. She had been so strong for so long. It was his turn. "I won't send you to that thing, mother. And I won't send my sister."

"Then the city...our people...everything our house has sworn to protect for hundreds of years...everything will..."

"They won't send you, either, Mother. We'll fight. You're right, maybe it's a desperate hope. But if we can win...if we can just drive it off...I would like to be there when my uncle hears how we drove off a Destroyer. Don't you see, mother, we'll have won two wars with a single blow. Half the royalty in the sacred valley will come to our door, desperate to know how we did it."

The queen shook her head sadly. "A wonderful fantasy, my son. But you forget—it all depends on accomplishing the impossible. No one has ever stood against a Destroyer and lived. No one. And you are too weak, my son. Your mind and will are strong, I have never doubted that, but your flesh..."

"I can't explain it," Aixa said, thinking back to the strange, confident eyes of the foreign priest, or the glowing green eyes of this 'champion' of Nephus. "But I..." he almost said 'believe in them', but that wasn't quite right. "With their help, I believe...we can succeed."

"And if you're wrong," said his mother, no longer arguing, merely telling him, with a desperate sadness in her voice, "everything we know and love will end."

"Yes," he agreed, feeling something strange...a kind of calmness overcoming years of growing fear. He cleared the ever-present phlegm in his chest and smiled for his mother. "And one day, the storytellers will sing songs of our house. And I will go to my forefathers without shame."