A Heart as Cold as Ice

A few miles from the Royal Hall where the speech took place is a ghastly, ornate, gaudy building in the shape of a dome, recessed into the earth. Trimmed in black, with numerous sharp, spiky protuberances, it oozes bad news. The vegetation within is apocalyptic, dry, dead. Surrounding the dome is a small, raised wall, dotted with mysterious, pale, bald figures in black robes, standing perfectly still. The entire property is encased within a magical barrier, with roiling, icy wind inside. These acolytes are clearly suffering in the cold wind, but stand guard regardless, in total silence. 

One of them stumbles, then collapses. A spike of solid ice appears above him, which crushes him squarely in the skull. Two more hooded figures appear and drag his limp corpse away, and another takes his place.

Inside this domed hall, directly in the center, is Slime Lord Uragas. Floating mid-air, with a small crowd of scantily clad slave girls directly beneath him, his little poofy noble’s hat perched atop his gooey, gelatinous mass.

In front him stands three particularly nasty looking figures. First, a tall, extremely pale elf with glowing red eyes, his face twisted by hatred. A tattoo covers half his face. He’s wearing shoulder pads made of ice, which let loose gentle drips of water onto the cold, stone floor. Next to him, a skeleton, with little, glowing red beads within his empty eyesockets, with a great axe hung behind his back, its blade made of ice. Finally, a human, fat and portly, with a slave girl chained to his arm, in nobles’ dress.

All three of them kneel, as Uragas’s front (which one can only tell by the orientation of his hat) rotates to address them. The sound of crackling ice, popping and snapping, echoes throughout his lair. A circle of solid, pure, steaming ice forms underneath him, freezing the legs of his chained slave girls, causing a few to whimper out in pain. This circle sends a protrusion through the floor, which erupts into a hollow box with a very complicated, thin mechanical mechanism made of ice itself. It’s a speaker.

“RISE.”, the box booms.

The three henchmen rise.

“EXPLAIN YOURSELF.”

The fat, portly noble begins to shake and stammer. The freezing temperature within the room is not helping him.

“M-my Lord, it ap-pears the king h-has chosen op-en r-r-revolt against you.”, he barely manages to get it out.

The crackling of ice becomes unbearably loud. This circle on the floor is twisting, snapping, as if in rage.

“WAS IT NOT YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO PREVENT THIS?”

The Slime’s apoplectic, enraged shout reverberates through the dome. The fat noble can barely stand, his legs are trembling. He desperately launches into an excuse to save himself.

“We had three assassins in the audience, My Lord, each one of them gave their life to try and silence the new Chief to send a message”-

A layer of ice forms beneath his feet, causing him to lose his balance, falling flat upon his portly buttocks. He gasps in fear.

“M-my Lord, please, just given a little more time, we can-”

He screams out in agony. Little, razor thin wires of ice had shot through the floor, piercing his hands, feet and legs.

“UNFORGIVABLE.”, the hollow box booms again.

The noble begs for his life, weeping. The two terrifying looking henchmen beside him stand at perfect attention, unflinching.

A tremendous, rending crunch echoes throughout the hall. The noble’s been frozen solid and shattered into a fine, powdered, red snow. Two acolytes with shovels appear, with a large bag. This is not their first rodeo. They begin shoveling up the noble’s remains. His slave girl had meekly returned to the fold with the others.

“YOU TWO WILL RECEIVE ORDERS. BE GONE.”, he booms, with slightly less furiosity.

The two henchmen turn about-face and march out of the dome. Uragas slowly rotates himself back around, casting a magical screen, and relieving the slave girls beneath him of their icy torment. Their feet and legs glisten bright red from frostbite. The crunches of shovels is the only thing audible.

Back at the Royal Palace, I’m enjoying the conclusion of the banquet party. The mood is electric. Quite a few nobles have approached me, who happen to be big fans of the world I come from. They particularly inquire about our “metal carriages”. Cars. I’ll have to find a way to build them once this all blows over. They’re not only willing to dedicate untold sums of money, but engineering expertise and manufacturing to this end.

Up on the balcony, overlooking the Royal banquet hall, one of the 4 Great Elder Mages leans in and whispers into the king’s ear. His eyes widen. Uragas’s two known “fixers”, his most powerful followers, have vanished from the city, observed using teleportation magic from outside his lair. A dark elf had been observing their movements.

Karaokami. The elven renegade mage, a criminal mass murderer. He had slain countless Royal Capture Squadrons sent to apprehend him. Every attempt to nab him had only made him angrier. He was one of the first to fall under Uragas’s wing, recognized solely for his power and lack of humanity. His numerous ideas as to how ice can be used as a torture device delighted the Slime Lord.

Gozu. An esteemed warrior from over a thousand years ago, who is said to have sliced his way out of the ground, reduced to a mere skeleton, mercilessly slaying everyone in his sight. Two hundred years of terror ensued with his hobby of stalking the trade routes surrounding the capital, massacring caravans of innocent villagers, leaving their goods untouched. He had killed so many that his axe blade had been worn to a blunt end. Seeing this, Uragas captured him in ice and had him brought before him, presenting him with a razor-sharp edge of ice for his great axe in exchange for his faithful service.

These two walking demons are in a class of their own. Attempting to engage them without careful planning virtually guarantees a quick death. Two of the Great Elder Mages vanish into thin air, headed to the operations center at the College. All the while, I am sitting there chatting happily with Fredericus and my two girls.

“I expected a few people to have some things to say, but this is the first time someone’s tried to kill me during a dinner!”, I boasted with uproarious laughter. I’m a few drinks in.

Fredericus is uncharacteristically loosened up, likely from the mead.

“I can’t believe there were three of them. You’d think they had gotten the message after the first guy!”

More laughter ensues. A great, booming voice erupts from further down the table.

It’s Biru.

“I FIND THEM. I CRUSH THEM!”

He slams his fist on the table, knocking over a few empty glasses. The table erupts in cheers. A rather sickly-looking noble approaches me.

“Sir John, I heard you were interested in “tobacco”, from your world.”

My eyes light up.

“I just happen to know of a supplier, who happened to be a former Chief of Police. In fact, he is still alive, but he has been missing for years. He speaks a strange language. It’s rumored that he’s now an undead.”

My eyes dim back down.

I know exactly who he’s talking about. It’s our skeleton in the closet. That German policeman from the 1920s, tending to the “museum” beneath the station, where the bodies of the former Chiefs are held in creepy liquid tanks.

“Do we have to find him?”, I ask, hoping to get out of this.

“No, not at all sir, he established a farm on the city outskirts that supplies the plant you need. It’s understood as a medicinal plant, not for smoking, but I am sure you can find a way to adapt it to your needs.”

He slips me a card from his breast pocket.

“Here is the address. I wish you the best of luck with this business opportunity.”

We shake hands cheerfully and he parts ways.

Unbeknownst to me, while I was giving the speech earlier, engineers from the Royal College of Magic had arrived both at my home and at the station, erecting a series of magical spires on four corners of both properties. A giant, blue dome crackles to life, encasing the properties in a protective barrier, which soon fades into invisibility. A representative from one of the engineers comes up to me.

“Chief John, we’ve gone ahead and fortified these two properties under orders from the Great Mages. Rest assured they will remain safe. They’re the same grade of barrier we use at the College.”

Another vigorous handshake. Neat! That solves home defense. I’ll need to inquire more deeply about what exactly the barriers do once I have some free time. The afterparty continues into the night, as my men play drinking games and brag about their first few days on the job. At some point, Biru is down for the count, passed out on the floor. It’s like college all over again.