Monroe-Chapter Two Hundred and Eighty-Two. A pillar falls.

This chapter is updated by freew(e)bnovel.(c)om

Bob woke up suddenly, holding a spitting and hissing Monroe against his chest.

His chest which didn't appear to have a gaping hole in it anymore.

He looked up, confused, and found what could only be described as a Dark Angel looking down at him, concern etched across her beautiful face.

"It's alright," she said soothingly, and Bob realized she had her hand on his shoulder. "Both of you are fine now. I'm guessing this was your first near-death experience?"

"Not exactly," Bob muttered, recalling the effects of the System repairing his damaged matrix. "First time I've had another person try to kill me, though."

"I'm going to need a minute," Bob said and portaled into his inventory. Except it didn't work. The pattern for the portal spell formed, the mana filled it, but the portal didn't open.

"My name is Elisa, and I'm a priestess of Mor'Noctum," the now-named Elisa said. "I healed the two of you after Yorrick released you from stasis."

Bob closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths, counting down from ten. He opened his eyes and then sat up. Yorrick was standing a few feet away, looking a bit unsteady. There was a sheen of sweat on his face, and as he watched Yorrick wipe it away, he realized that instead of sweat, it was blood. A decapitated body lay just beyond that, and cowering at the base of a bunk was the asshole who had stuck his hand through his chest and, more importantly, had hurt Monroe.

Bob didn't stop to think, didn't pause to consider. He summoned a fully powered Jake behind that shitguzzling fuckstain and mentally commanded the UtahRaptor to rip his head off. There was a wet tearing sound, and then the ear-rending savage chirps of joy as Jake gargled the head, trying to choke it down.

Staggering to his feet, shrugging off Elisa's hand, Bob stumbled over to the body and began viciously kicking it. "No one hurts my cat!" Bob roared. Unable to deal significant damage with his feet, he fell to his knees and let the mana flowing to Jake dissipate. He reached out and caught the head as it fell to the ground. Both of his hands ignited as he channeled a create fire spell, and he began to smash the head into the stone floor, face first, over and over again, screaming in incoherent rage as he sought to eradicate the very existence of the person who had almost killed Monroe.

"Have you introduced him to the percepts of Bael?" Elisa asked Yorrick, who was leaning against one of the bunks.

"No," Yorrick shook his head.

"Maybe you should," she suggested. "It looks like he has quite a lot of Wrath in him."

"Not really," Yorrick disagreed, "he's just very, very protective of his cat."

The feline in question was a few feet away from the incoherent Bob, cleaning himself.

"It's rather impressive that he's still going, most people burn out after a few seconds, a minute at the most," Elisa observed.

"I haven't known him long, but I've gotten a pretty good measure of the man, and I can tell you that Bob doesn't do anything in half measures," Yorrick replied. "Once he's managed to burn the body to ashes, he'll snap out of it. Probably."

"Well, it doesn't look like anyone else is in need of my assistance, so I should probably go report this to Cascadia," Elisa sighed.

"Probably for the best," Yorrick agreed. "She'll reach out to Argus and The Emperor."

"Politics," Elisa shook her head. "This is a mess I'll be glad to be uninvolved in."

Bob's rage receded suddenly. He found himself kneeling on the floor of the barracks, ashes scattered around him and scorch marks on the floor.

Monroe was leaning up against a bunk a few rows ahead, accepting tentative petting from one of the indentures.

"You good?" He heard Yorrick's voice from behind him, and he turned to look over his shoulder. Yorrick still looked like shit, and Bob was pretty sure he was still sweating blood.

"Probably not," Bob replied, standing up and moving over to pick up Monroe, nodding to the indentured man who had been petting him.

"I didn't think it was going to play out like this," Yorrick said. "I figured you'd be unhappy when you saw the conditions they were in, although I didn't realize they were quite this bad." He shook his head. "I also thought you might drop some healing, and that Torlin would object because he's an asshole and that Tavarius probably wouldn't have relayed the fact that I was bringing an Envoy with me. I did not expect him to attack you like that."

Bob knew he was telling the truth. The Divine Blessing of Veritas was occasionally a pain in the ass, but knowing that someone was telling the truth made life a lot easier. Yorrick had only lied to him once, and that had been when he'd made a self-deprecating joke.

"Who is Tavarius?" Bob asked, then paused. Tavarius Colvern, First Council.

"Well, that's him there and over there," Yorrick gestured toward the body and the head a few feet beyond. "He was the head of House Colvern and held the position of First Council, acting as one of the Pillars of the Empire."

Bob blinked. "I'm guessing you did that," he said.

Yorrick grinned, and Bob could see the blood staining his teeth. "I had help," he replied. "Tavarius was also tier nine and likely around the fifth most powerful person in the Empire," he shrugged. "We all acknowledge the Emperor as the strongest, but the rest of us are tenths or even hundredths of a percent apart in terms of power, so the rankings are somewhat contested. He probably would have told you he was the second most powerful, and to be fair, here on the Colvern estate, he was."

"How did you kill him then?" Bob asked, then added, "especially without leveling the building or killing anyone else."

"When Torlin attacked you while acting in his capacity as a ranking member of House Colvern, he broke the law," Yorrick explained. "Our laws for our citizens are pretty simple. Our laws for our pillars are much more stringent, and the agreements binding us have real, palpable power. He didn't realize it, but by attacking you, he allowed me to call on the full power of the Warlocks Guild to deal with him. Tavarius should have known better, as he was there when the pillars met to discuss offering you citizenship and sanctuary within the Empire, but he didn't pay attention, and he didn't relay the information to his people."

"I thought I felt the touch of Bael on the city's mana."

Bob and Yorrick both turned, and Bob found himself looking up at another Dark Angel, this one taller than he was, with dark purple eyes and a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.

"High Priestess Cascadia Fulrun, allow me to introduce Robert Whitman and his feline overlord, Monroe," Yorrick gestured toward Bob.

She stepped forward and presented her hand, which Bob shook, then she reached up and gave Monroe an ear rub. "Under normal circumstances, I'd be pleased to meet you both, but one of the pillars is not only laying dead behind you, but it appears his soul has been taken."

"Tavarius' man, Torlin, attacked Bob after Bob cast a regeneration spell and then used create and control water to clean up the barracks," Yorrick said. "He dealt both Bob and Monroe a death blow, and after I placed them both in stasis, he summoned Tavarius, who demanded I surrender myself to him for punishment, stating that I interfered with House Colvern business. You can watch the encounter for yourself if you'd like."

Yorrick gestured toward one of the camerawomen, and she stepped forward hesitantly.

"Could you play back the encounter on the camera for the High Priestess?" Yorrick asked, smiling.

"S-sure," she stammered and fiddled with the camera for a moment before moving hesitantly to allow the High Priestess to see the screen.

Bob sidled around to the other side and peered over the camerawoman's shoulder.

Watching himself get killed wasn't exactly pleasant. Watching Yorrick go full-on Demon Lord and execute the head asshole responsible for conditions the indentured lived in, and of more personal and immediate importance, responsible for the man who had tried to kill Monroe, was pleasant. Or satisfying anyway.

"And so a House falls," Cascadia murmured, shaking her head.

"Indeed," a loud voice came from the entry to the barracks, and Bob turned.

The man who had spoken was just about Bob's own six foot three inches. He even had a similar build, broad but lean. He wore simple, coarse black slacks and an unadorned white shirt that was rolled up to the elbow. His skin was pale, and his hazel eyes seemed warm. He could have passed unremarked in a crowd were it not for the black circlet that rested atop his short, cropped red hair.

Bob was surprised when both Yorrick and Cascadia dropped to one knee, bowing their heads.

"I would say it's a shame, but House Colvern has been in decline for centuries," the man shook his head. "It's one thing to rest on your laurels, but another to abuse the privileges earned through deeds long past. Please stand up," he sounded tired, "we've known each other too long for that."

Yorrick stood and gestured toward Bob. "Robert Whitman, and his Familiar, Monroe. Bob, this is the Emperor of the Karcerian Empire, Lacius Karcerian," Yorrick said.

"Emperor," Bob nodded respectfully. He wasn't sure what you called an emperor. Your Majesty? Your Highness? Your Emperorship?

"Lacius is fine," Lacius said, smiling warmly.

"May I watch the recording?" Lacius politely asked the camerawoman, who appeared to have given up on speaking, and just nodded, pushing a few buttons on the screen, then presenting the screen to the Emperor, who watched the event in silence. The camerawoman had started the recording from the time they approached the estate.

"One of the things I admire about your people," Lacius said after the recording had finished, "is the audacious courage you show when presented with a situation that goes against your moral principles. Not all of you, or even most of you, but there are enough instances recorded in your history that I can safely say that it's a trait." He sighed. "House Colvern was acting reprehensibly, and while they were not violating the terms of the indenture contracts, they were certainly acting against the stated purpose behind indenture. Their assault against an Envoy to the Empire, who acted without malice, and only to deliver clear aid and succor to the citizens of the Empire, was a clear violation of the compact that binds the Pillars of the Empire together." His voice had taken on a formal cadence. "Yorrick Wrathsbane, acting in his capacity as the High Seat of the Warlocks Guild, acted within the authority of his office and titles to accept the burden of the Avatar of Bael, the God of Wrath. His swift and unhesitating attack on the First Council, Lord Tavarius Colvern, was necessary, as a protracted battle would have resulted in the deaths of innocent bystanders. Standing as first of the five Pillars, and with two other Pillars present, I hereby remove House Colvern from the ranks of the Noble Council. The disposition of the members, holdings, and property of the house shall be discussed when the Pillars next meet. The compact stands unbroken."

"The compact stands unbroken," Yorrick and Cascadia echoed.

"You have my apologies," Lacius said, his tone no longer formal. "While I was certain you'd find things that you'd find distasteful, I hadn't imagined something like this would happen. Regardless of your endorsement of Yorrick's advertising campaign, the Empire will provide the offered aid without expectation of recompense. An attack against an Envoy is an affront, and we will balance the scales."

Bob bowed his head.

The Emperor disappeared.

"He seemed nice," Bob said uncertainly.

"As long as you obey the laws of the Empire, he is," Yorrick assured him.

"Are you ok?" Bob asked.

"No, I'm not," Yorrick admitted. "I channeled the power of a God, if only for a few brief moments. There are consequences, and I'm afraid I'm going to need some time to recover. Would it be alright if we pick this back up in a few days?" He grimaced, "Actually, let's make it a week."

"Sure," Bob nodded, then hesitated. "I'm guessing there isn't anything I can do to help?"

"No," Yorrick smiled, although it was strained, "this is something that'll just take time."

"So, before I go, I have to ask, am I in trouble for," he gestured towards where Torlin had been, "ya know?"

Cascadia laughed. "No, you're not. Your actions fall under self-defense."

"Which is not," Yorrick added, "to say that you can feed anyone who slaps you to your summoned monster."

"Nor can you expect that tactic to work on someone who is fully cognitive and aware of their surroundings," Cascadia said, shaking her head. "If Torlin hadn't been terrified by the appearance of an Avatar, he would have sensed the mana and defended himself."

"That does raise a pretty good point," Yorrick coughed and spat a wad of bloody phlegm on the floor. "You were taken completely by surprise when he attacked you. While he did have you a while tier, you ought to have been able to raise some sort of defense. You just let him hit you," Yorrick shook his head.

"You really shouldn't do that," Cascadia agreed. "You're going to have to adjust to the reality of mana. Torlin was clearly aggressive, so his attack shouldn't have come as a complete surprise. You'd do well to spend a few months training with the Crimson Bulwark, they'll drill defense into you until it's as automatic as breathing."

"Says the vampire that doesn't breathe," Yorrick muttered.

Cascadia smiled broadly, revealing her elongated, sharp-looking canines. "Unless Mr. Whitman is considering a drastic change in his circumstances, I believe he'll continue to breathe for quite some time."

Bob watched the interplay between the two.

"So, what now?" He asked.

"You can either go home or remain here in Karce," Yorrick said. "After what just happened becomes public knowledge, which knowing Elisa as well as I do, is already in progress, no one is going to touch you. You can room at the Warlocks Guild, or barring that, I'm sure Cascadia or Argus would make room for you at the Church or the Bulwark, respectively."

"What about the indentures, though?" Bob asked. "I'm guessing they delve in shifts, right? I doubt the shift that's in the Dungeon is in any better condition than the shift up here was."

Yorrick nodded slowly. "Sorry," he said, "I'm not at a hundred percent, and I'm not thinking clearly. Cascadia, could you have someone fetch the indentures out of the Dungeon and heal them up?"

"Of course," Cascadia agreed.

"Alright, I think I'll head home for a bit then," Bob rubbed his chest.