Side Story 1: Oathbound
Brandon marches down the street, his heavy armored footsteps announcing his presence, his cape fluttering behind him, accentuating his command. He doesn't need it; he can increase his Bond's presence, but the Emperor treats the citizens delicately, and as his Oathbound, he must do so too.
The crowds parting for him, revealing immaculate stone roads kept clean even in the busiest of days. He walks through the market made with stone and excellent workmanship, the light grey stone accentuated with white mortar.
Brandon finds his favorite tavern, Forron's Lap. Entering the tavern, he is greeted with a whiff of strong ale. Two small domestic Forrons lay on a bed of soft pillows, their four ears pivoting to sudden sounds, they lack any eyes, but they have their ways to navigate the world; they are known to have sensing skills, but they don't always use them, they seem to instinctually know about anti-sensing items and skills. They have two bushy tails with silky fur, making them rather popular, if not for the fact that they also hunt small unwanted vermin, which makes them the most adopted animal as a pet among farmers, warehouse owners, and shops that serve food.
The tavern is moderately busy at this time of day, filled with people on their days off work. The Emperor mandates two days off each week for most jobs, though there are some exceptions for multi-week jobs or time-sensitive jobs; in that case, the days off accrues until they can be taken.
Brandon walks to his usual spot and sits down, and sits down. The tables and chairs are made of fine orn wood, the sturdy and tough lumber providing a nice rustic feel to the place.
"Get me a white honey, Charlie," Brandon requests. Trusting the old stool to support the weight of his golden full plate armor. His long black hair hangs below as he leans forward, a majestic gauntlet resting on the counter.
"Coming right up. Zara!" The bartender, Charlie, calls for his waitress, a voluptuous Fylox. Zara comes, walking with an exaggerated gait from around a corner. She has brown hair with Forron-like furry ears on the top of her head and wide green eyes. She wears the tavern's short skirt uniform from which a bushy brown-furred tail sways behind her.
"Take these to table three" Charlie slid four mugs of ale on a tray to the Fylox girl. She nods and does her duty without a word.
"These second-generation Fylox's are a lot more agreeable; I'm glad the integration program recommended her to me," Charlie says. Filling Brandon's mug. "And I can't say no to the tax relief for hiring a lesser race," he adds, handing Brandon the mug.
"That's usually the case," Brandon says, glad that the Emperor's social program is working well. "The wild ones will usually remain savage. Only when they grow up in civilization do they appreciate what Humanity does for them."
"Not the Burrowers," Charlie says with a grunt.
Brandon sighs. "Unfortunately, not all are as agreeable as the Fylox. The Faerin still refuse to speak the proper language, except for a select few. The Burrowers still try to claw their way back to savagery, and the Noks, despite seven generations now, still have their barbarism."
"The Noks?" Charlie asks, leaning closer.
"A brutal species, you probably haven't heard of them because they are kept in the integration camps, deemed too savage to be released in cities," Brandon replies. The Noks is a brutish blue-skinned race with a propensity for violent outbursts with little to no control when angered. They are highly territorial, and their poor eyesight makes them strike first and ask questions later. Putting them in society as they are now will only sow distrust in the Empire, breed racial bias, and call into question the Empire's judgment.
Zara returns and relays an order from another table, her soft voice pleasing to his ears.
"What about the rebellion? I heard White Peak Castle has been annihilated," Charlie asks, changing the subject.
"Those damnable traitors are showing the lesser races a bad example." Brandon grimaces and takes a large gulp of his drink. "We've put down five cities so far; I only wish the Emperor would give me a chance to earn glory and honor for the Empire."
As Exalted tier beings, humans need to step up and be better, to show the world that slavery, war, and many other atrocities can be done away with and still thrive as a civilization. They must lead by example, but the rebellion, led by their 'Champion', wants to show the world Human superiority. It sets a bad example for all lesser races.
"And what of this 'Champion' I keep hearing about? I heard he bested three Oathbound in single combat."
A long falls silence between them.
"He... '' Brandon looks for the correct words to say, "Managed to use underhanded tactics to take advantage of our honor, but even so, he cannot slay an immortal. We Oathbound can only die by the Emperor's hand, after all. He also fought one Oathbound at a time, not all three at once."
A man joins the conversation; his black hair and eyes match his black trench coat.
"Jake," Brandon nods toward him.
"Traitors have no honor!" Jake spat. "It's only a matter of time until you guys get him."
"Indeed it is, Jake." Brandon says to the patriotic man, "Those who reject the Emperor's guidance for selfish reasons must be put down, for the sake of all beings. If we let them fester, they'll start letting the lesser races return to savagery or enslave them, likely both."
"That they will, Brandon," Charlie says in agreement.
Zara comes up with more orders, diligently working, showing that the integration program works well with Fyloxes
Just then, a man in majestic golden plate, glowing blue with power along etchings that decorate the enter set. His fluttering cape dances in the wind, settling down as he enters the tavern. Brandon recognizes the Oathbound armor, almost identical to the one he is wearing. Zara makes way for him with a polite bow, as do other patrons of the establishment.
"Brother Ardan, what brings you here?"
"The Emperor has a mission for you. Stoneport has joined the rebels and the spies settled in Gemkeep have stopped their reports. Put down the traitors and investigate Gemkeep," Ardan says in his deep voice rumbling voice.
Finally, a mission!
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"They will not see the dawn of tomorrow," Brandon promises to put down the rebels.
Although Stoneport was hundreds of kilometers away, for an Oathbound, it's a half-hour flight or run. For Brandon, however, it's only ten minutes. After stepping outside of the tavern, he jumps up to the clouds as a bolt of lightning, thunder rolling over the city. Brandon dashes through the air, his trailing lightning rumbling over the land.
He passes over many farms with village centers, defended by stone walls against prowling night monsters, most of which are culled by monster slayers or village guardians. Every week the army will march through and cull any monster still around. Because they spawn from mana, they have little means to actually stop monsters from appearing, and so only reactive measures are taken.
Brandon stops above the city square of Stoneport, a city built on the coast, using a river to transport gems, stone, and ores from the mines and quarries upriver. It is a large exporter of the Empire's stone and ores.
A man stands in the city square addressing the masses with vile words and lies.
"We will have freedom from the tyranny of the Emperor! We will take our place in the world and force the Empire to meet our dema-" The man becomes a red mist as a bolt of lightning strikes him. In his place stands Brandon, clad in his majestic Oathbound armor.
"No traitor will leave alive!" Brandon announces, his voice booming like thunder as if lightning itself wanted his words to be heard; his Bond's presence expands to its full weight pressuring the traitors before him. The hair of the crowd stands on end as if the air is charged with electricity, the very identity of lighting wrapping around the traitors. To him, anyone who stood to listen to the raving of a mad man for longer than a minute has proven their lack of loyalty.
Brandon draws his soul blade high and channels his mana into it. Lightning jumps from the blade into the sky before raining death upon all who traitors in his presence. Charred bodies hit the ground.
Brandon left the lesser races alive. The Fyloxs, the Klars, the Lhai, and the few other races who've adapted to civilization. It's not their fault; they are to be uplifted to greater heights to join Humanity as greater races, but that doesn't mean all humans want that to happen; some will lie to them to get what they want. Should the flock be slaughtered for the misguidance of their shepherds? Of course not.
"All who reject the Emperor's guidance will die! This is your only warning, your only chance at mercy! Accept his Majesty's guidance or die!" Brandon's voice booms over the town, filled with the thunder of lightning. Many had been lied to, but Brandon does not have the time to correct that; a show of force will be necessary.
Brandon rise into the air, lightning sparking all around him as if it is waiting for his command. "This is the power of the Oathbound! This is what the Emperor's guidance can bring you!"
Lightning streaks across the sky as if all of the Lightning mana in a kilometer radius gathers in Brandon's sword, a halo of raw energy forming around its blade guard. With a swing of his sword and a deafening rumble, lightning strikes at a hill between Stoneport and Gemkeep. The hill glows red for a split second before disintegrating, leaving a molten pool of lava.
Brandon then flies off to the nearby gem mine and the settlement around it.
Brandon lands in the town square to a scene of blood and gore. Bodies, or what's left of them, lay scattered throughout the streets. Walls of houses have been broken into, sowing signs of a destructive force ramming into them, and half-eaten corpses lay in the rubble, having been dug out by what appears to be some monster.
Mayhem had run throughout the city, destruction like a herd of beasts being let loose. Claw marks cut cleanly through the stone, and eviscerated bodies lay in pools of blood as if cut completely through multiple times at once. Blood covers the walls of buildings, but something else stands out to Brandon.
Only human bodies are eaten. Brandon observes. The Burrowers, Fyloxes, Klars, and the less common mine town lesser races are left for the scavengers, only killed with five long sharp claws.
It is eerily quiet. No smoke from chimneys rises in the sky. No guards patrol the walls. Not a single sound comes from the city.
The hairs on Brandon's neck stands up, and an instinctual fear run down his spine in shivers.
"What have they done?!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jordan enters the Faerin room, the Palaces' own personal source of honey. Faerins fly around the room, chittering in their uncivilized language. All attempts to rid them of the bad habit have ended in failure; it is highly likely that the Faerins have some sort of telepathic link to each other. They seem to learn far too quickly, and even when isolated, their young still learns their language.
A humanoid creature with large, gorgeous, butterfly-like wings with mesmerizing patterns flies close, chittering the same thing all of their kind does when he walks by, their antennas twitching to his presence. Many watch him with violet eyes, their sclera the same color, only differentiated by the Iris patterns.
Jordan, for the most part, ignores them and walks through the garden of towering flowers, their petals dimly glowing with violet light. Taken from the Forest of Illusions, these plants sustain the Faerin with nectar. The flowers exude a noxious pollen that quickly entrances creatures around them to get as close as they can to the flowers and fall asleep, and keeps them asleep. The creatures eventually die and fertilize the soil for the flowers.
The Faerin are immune to the pollen and thrive in the places around these flowers., their antennae and wings are often covered in the pollen, making them a hazard to untrained people.
Jordan walks to several large pouches filled with a golden liquid contained in a transparent membrane. The Faerin produces these sacks after feeding on the flower's nectar, which when said like that doesn't sound the most appetizing, but people regularly eat Honeydew Bee vomit; they just have to keep that fact hidden.
This whole process is a part of the Faerin integration process. If people like products made from Faerins, they will be more likely to accept them; there are still several kinks to work out, namely the language and pollen issue. People will find it harder to trust those they don't understand, so mandating a single common language is necessary for the integration process, and the pollen is generally dangerous, but that's not entirely the fault of the Faerins, who are peaceful and normally great candidates for integration.
Jordan notes the decrease in the production of the honey sacks and walks off. The membranes break easily, and specialized tenders have to harvest them safely so as to not waste them.
Jordan walks through the pristine halls, immaculately kept by the well-trained maids. He visits the servant's lounge where the maids rest after tending to the needs of the Palace. Jordan notes the average of new Fylox on break. The older maids talk to the newer additions giving tips to improve their Class and Skills.
It is remarkable how easily the second generation Fylox are taking to civilization, despite the resistance their parents gave to keep their barbarism and savagery. Always going on about their faith in the spirits. They worship Varath, the great spirit of war and battle, but their main goddess is the Great Spirit of Nature and Disaster, fueling their savagery.
When Jordan had found their warring tribes deep in the endless jungle, he had marked them as unfit for society and domestic work, and now, they are among the most civilized. It is a lesson Jordan should keep to heart; just because a race is savage or barbaric doesn't mean it's part of their nature; it can just be part of a flawed culture.
One of the social programs to help with lesser race integration is tax relief. With higher demand comes higher pay, and with tax relief, to those who employ Fylox and other lesser races, many can afford to pay the lesser more.
Fylox acceptance, currently, is more akin to a fad due to the integration efforts and social programs to speed their acceptance, but even if it is temporary, it worked; they just need to keep the momentum going until acceptance is self-sustaining.
Many find the Fylox furry ears and tail cute, much like how people find the popular domestic Forrons adorable.
In fact, the similarities of Fylox ears and tails and the Forron's are unmistakable. The Endless Jungle has large man-sized Forrons, too, with large saber fangs that make the small domestic Forrons look harmless, but it makes sense the jungle Forrons would be large; their rodent prey is fairly massive too. The Jungle Forrons are often tamed by savage Fylox tribes and often used as war beasts against other tribes for territory disputes. That is why they must be civilized; such needed war is propagated by their worship of violent spirits.
Jordan moves on, inspecting the armory, pleased to see two diligent Fylox's polishing the armors and weapons. Lastly, he inspects the Guard's lounge, finding no slackers taking longer breaks than they should. Jordan expects as much; this is the Palace Guard, after all, not some remote town militia.
Jordan returns to his quarters to finalize his inventory report. As the quartermaster of the Oathbound and the Palace, he takes his job very seriously. After serving two hundred and eighty years as an Oathbound, he has retired from that line of work to pursue his hobby and manage the lesser races. Naturally, he took the job of quartermaster; an Oathbound is always in service of the Emperor. Just because he's no longer fighting in battles and earning glory and honor for his Emperor doesn't mean he should not still be in service to the one who built their great Empire.
Ting! A great entity, Oathbound Brandon, the Human, has been slain by a Kodoku Cannibal!
It takes Jordan a few seconds to process the world notification. Oathbound is the very pinnacle of Humanity, one able to push both their Race and Class to legendary tier, becoming immortal and a great being. Even their order has been recognized as a title by the system. For there to be a cursed entity, a cannibal, that is unthinkable! Who would resort to such a thing?!
A series of knocks echoes from Jordan's door.
"Oathbound Jordan!" A Palace Guard calls through the door. "The Emperor has called for all Oathbound, meet in the throne room!"
Jordan sighs. He knew this would come. Most of the Oathbound would be sent to slay the cursed being, and more will be lost in that battle. This will deal a great blow to their reputation of being an unkillable force, and it will embolden the rebels. Now the traitors will know that the Oathbound can be killed. Not by mortal means, cursed beings are exceptions after all, as is the Emperor, but the fact that now the world knows will only spell trouble.
Jordan joins the gathering Oathbound in the throne room. Lining up neatly in the front row where the other senior Oathbound stand. Looking around, Jordan can see several mission spots, the oathbound either already on a mission or, in Brandon's case, dead.
The Emperor stands in front of the golden throne, geared up in his Legendary tier armor. The sheer amount of power radiating from the strongest human dwarfs his own; the Bond Presence of the Man in front of him wraps around Jordan like a father placing a hand on his son's shoulder. Any mortal would suffer from mana toxicity from the Emperor's presence, and his very presence can make them spill every secret and crime they've committed.
"You all received the message; a cursed being has been created," The Emperor says with a voice infused with power. "Young Brandon was tasked to put down the rebellion in Stoneport and to investigate the happenings in Gemkeep. The Cannibal should be in that area."
"We will not fail you, your majesty!" the Oathbound says in unison, saluting with synchronized movements. All expect to be sent out, even if some must remain to protect the Palace.
"This is a greater Cannibal, my loyal warriors, a Kodoku Cannibal. Its power may very well rival my own; as such, I will be going with you."
"It will be an honor to fight by your side!" again, everyone says this in unison. Most would kill to get a chance to fight by the Emperor's side, to see him in action.
"Some of you will need to stay behind to protect the Palace for our victorious return and defend the capital in these troubling times; who will volunteer for this task."
Deafening silence falls upon the throne room for a few moments before Jordan speaks up and steps forward. "I will, your Majesty! I will prepare a feast and parade for when you return!" It's not that Jordan is afraid of the Cannibal, nor a coward. He'd love nothing more than to be by his Majesty's side, but as quartermaster, this is his duty.
No one questioned Jordan's bravery; all knew that someone had to stay behind, and the fact that Jordan has retired from fieldwork gives him the right to be the first to volunteer. Then there's the duty to protect the capital; no one will be blamed for taking this duty.
"There needs to be three more to stay," The Emperor says, waiting for more volunteers. After another moment of silence, another volunteers to stay, stepping forward as well. Then another, and after another round of reluctant silence, the last speaks up.
"It warms my heart that you would forgo glory in order to protect the people and the rule of the Empire. It takes courage to put your duty above all else; I am ever grateful for your sacrifice," The Emperor says, gratitude filling his voice. With that, over eighty Oathbound leaves to slay the cursed being. Out of a hundred Oathbound, one is dead. Four stays behind, and fifteen are already on a mission.