Dark Chronicles 91 Petition For A Duel

― Edmond Mbiaka

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This does not concern me that much. All I care is that I am to take the reward for the negotiations exclaimed by the leader himself prior to his shameful defeat... although the man himself, inside his rusty cage has also been giving me these quite astute and incisive glimpses which started already a while ago. It's final... He hates me that much. Not that I care...

He even got so far as to look at me like I'm garbage, spitting very rudely...

Well, it's not against the rule to retaliate back to an adult with a childish brain right? I then looked at him with this enormously disgusted smirk... Like a s.a.d.i.s.t, looking at an enthusiastic m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t with the pure intent to mock.

"Tsk."

Even at our distance, I could clearly see his annoyed face and hear the clicking of his tongue. Well, that was sort of fun, teasing an incarcerated n.o.ble. Well, back to the crux of this issue at hand...

"Yes... Did you ask the Patriarch about this matter?" Adds another n.o.ble, giving everyone this frightening and broad grin, almost like Ches.h.i.+re cat at this point, but even more spiced with conceit and megalomania.

"I'm afraid we still have not." Answered the announcer.

"Then this simply can't be done." Another from the group, exclaimed, with a golden walking stick and well-groomed mustache while still giving off this aura of grandiosity and self-centeredness.

Everyone from the lower economic threshold then find themselves realizing that the hope that they've felt is only but for a moment. Their facades, it really shows how they've suffered a lot in the hands of these megalomaniacs that they want to end, even though how fragile the hope may seem... And seeing them, made Sir Gallahad, the senior Warlock with a sober face always sipping a cigarette, to find himself a subject to intervening.

"Oh, you mean the lazy old useless b.u.m sleeping in that castle's tower like a princess who wants to be rescued? More likely... do you want me to call him and challenge him to a duel? You'll be satisfied that way, right?" The warlock said...

"If you have the gut that is ." Challenged the other fully claiming in their disbelief that their fellow Tarragon in front will show some hesitations, but it was not the case.

"Fine by me." Being himself, who's preferably got nothing to lose as he exclaims, he began to withdraw one of his two heavy-looking axes...

"are you serious you commoner!"

"Hmmm... I can't wait to see your downfall, you lazy elites." Having said that, with great momentum coalesced with his annoyance of the hope-obliterating n.o.bles whose interests are reserved for themselves alone, he threw his battle-ax while facing the other way around, hitting the castle's highest tower of which is overly alike to Rapunzel's... Whatever and whoever this patriarch maybe, they better not let down his or her hair.

And that's exactly what happened...

Hit by the ax blatantly with its great momentous power, the tower was torn to bits even deforming the clouds atop on the skies... Just as how I presaged it to be... that this senior warlock really is strong, of which I think could be in par with that deceased recently-fought hero.

"N-now, you've done it!" Recoiled the same n.o.bles seeing the defiance of the warlock and how he unexpectedly tried to wake up this sleeping Patriarch or something, even destroying the grand castle's highest tower.

"MH...MUWAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!!! How stupid!" The King, seeing the rushed decisiveness of the warlock starts to laugh like there's no tomorrow weirding everyone out, except for the elites whose weirdness is also at the same level.

"Master, I sense a powerful being... but I can't point out its exact location. Do forgive me for the incompetence. I will take note of this inability" Azazel suddenly prompted.

"Don't sweat it. I'm expecting to see the most arbitrary of things anyway." I answered getting mentally prepared to again meet, another eccentric crackpot, or even worse.

"Affirmative, Master."

Then, out of nowhere... As if having his presence congealed with sneakiness even a tier above Lacrimosa's ability to seal her's, an old man figure appeared, close to me... without anyone noticing his entrance, not even the crowd in front and not even Azazel's algorithm could predict... It's almost as if he suddenly flickered to his desired place in a matter of a picosecond.

It was an old geezer, wearing this not-so-fancy purple robe that extends even to the soles of his feet inside these ponderous-looking slippers. He also was with a long white beard, coalesced with this messy elderly hair and fiery eyes almost like he hadn't been sleeping for an entire century or so... like the eyes of an avid gamer, so to say, who does nothing but grind and grind, although that's quite far from being the case here in this medieval-themed scenario... He is also rather short, a half-meter shorter than me I think and what's more boggling, is that he has appeared weaponless. Although he was not as scary as to how his t.i.tle suggests... He is timid in countenance, with pale skin befitting of a well-advanced in age and his charisma, t's also quite calm.

"The Patriarch? Awake?" Everyone can't believe their eyes seeing this revered figure standing before them.

" Who dared wake me up from my sleep?" He said while yawning and stretching his bent-back, addressing everyone within that venue.

"Old man Durandal, good thing you're here." The King suddenly talked...

"Oy oy! What happened to you? You're looking like trash from my perspective. So I have no business with you as of now." He addressed the king very shrewdly.

"Now, answer my previous question... Who disturbed me from my slumber? Surely I will not kill, just give a spanking or two."

Then, almost out of the blue, a white betrayal of I think was planned all along.

"It was him..." The Senior warlock, the perpetrator himself of the patriarch's reckoning, pointed to the innocent me while blinking his dead eyes implicitly meaning that I should go with the flow even if I don't want to...

What the h.e.l.l did just happen? Not even one from the crowd was willing to tell the truth, and they even shut their mouth for good, and the humans, as 'followers as they are' also did the same of fear of what this old man might be capable off.

"So it was you huh? And a newly-arrived human? I guess you're here to dethrone the king and take the kingdom for yourself and make it as a headquarter for your party or something. Very well then... I am a Durandal. The Patriarch of this Kingdom. My Job? Every time someone wants to claim the position as King and replace the century-reign of the Aurelius's... they must pa.s.s through me first... Shall we start the duel? That's just how things are in here?"

"Ehhhh???"

"Old man Durandal! That man. He's the representative of Lacrimosa in their divine warfare!" Aurelius the fourth declared.

"LLacrimosa?" Everyone from the crowd starts to step back, especially the elites themselves, while the humans who were with me a while ago has also reached the peak of their suspicion. Seriously, just how mainstream is that name anyway?

"Oy oy! Is that true?" Asked the Patriarch.

"Yes! He has the same paradigm as her! One that could manipulate any darkness around." The king further extrapolated in detail making everyone step back more from the city circle cowering in fear in that name's utterance alone Except the armies in the surrounding of course, who are all made acquainted with the fact in our first encounter.

"Ain't that right?" The old geezer said with an undaunted old smile.

"Whatever it seems to you let it be," I answered with an uninterested face, although this has now become very troublesome indeed. Sir Senior Warlock Gallahad, I have you repay for this energy that your finger-pointing is to cause.

"Oy oy! I like the dead eyes of yours, kid... It's the same as that G.o.ddess after she got promoted. But, I have no intention of fearing a former rival's apprentice you know? Or should I say, her 'Herrscher'? Well then, guess there's no use standing around. I order a Pet.i.tion for a duel!" The patriarch exclaimed with a centenarian old face that seemed to not even have the slightest capability to hurt a fly.