Chapter Seventy-Seven: Cleaning Up The Mess

"Uhhh..." Meg groaned as she stirred from her impromptu nap, and with her hand to her head, she sat up.

"Morning." Tim said from nearby. Meg glanced over to him with a dazed look to see him wringing out a bloody cloth into a bucket. Looking past him, Meg could see a man's corpse laid on some cloth, with several buckets containing the remains of her servant.

"How do you feel?" Tim asked, halting his cleaning and looking over to Meg.

"Like shit."

"I bet, you were in a right state when I got here."

After running her hand across her face where she was wounded, Meg looked at her clean palm.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Meg rested her head in her hands, and brought her legs in as she waited until she was confident enough to stand.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Well, there was a guy next to you who attacked me. No prizes for guessing what happened to him. Downstairs was utterly trashed but it fixed itself up. Your zombies died, but apparently a few of the attackers became zombies, so no loss there."

"They'll even be fresher, so that's a plus I guess."

"Indeed... Anyway, the new ones kept trying to eat the not undead corpses, so I locked them in the basement. Some of the attackers survived and scarpered. They left behind a wagon full of barrels, along with rope and some really big pots. There's a whole bunch of the barrels but they only seem to have two types of stuff in them."

"What stuff?"

"Dunno, didn't check. Both are liquids though, I stored them away next door to the munch bunch."

"...I'll check it out."

"Something tells me it would better if you left that to me, I can't imagine they'd bring something good for your health. You can check out this guy instead."

Meg uncovered her eyes and looked over to Tim, seeing that he was pointing to the body of the man who had led the attack. Looking closer, she grimaced to herself as she noticed the empty space between the man's head and body.

"Why?" She asked.

"Look at this." Tim said, and lifted the man's arm. He then crushed it, and the crunch of splintering bones echoed from the walls.

"Tim what the fuck?"

"Nah, just watch." Tim pointed to the man's palm, and Meg remembered the magic circle she saw before passing out. Tim poured energy into it, and after a second, the crunching noise resumed, as the man's hand fixed itself.

"See?" Tim said. "It's not just that either, guy was stronger than a normal person too. Not strong enough to matter much to me, but stronger nonetheless."

"Well, guess that explains why he survived the explosion."

"The what?"

"There was an explosion downstairs, that's why it was such a mess."

"What set that off?"

"I don't know. I tried to dump energy on him to scare him off, and I think all the other circles..." Meg trailed off, and her eyes widened. "Oh shit."

"Uh... What? What is it?"

Meg shot to her feet, and Tim leant back in surprise, as she went over to where she stored writing materials, and began to scrawl onto a clean sheet of paper.

"You, uh... You okay there?"

"I might've just had a breakthrough, let me get this down." Meg continued to write feverishly.

"...Well okay then." Tim said, and, throwing all the buckets into his storage space, decided to leave her to it.

He descended into the basement, and entered the room where he had stored the barrels. Opening one of each type, he pulled his head back as an acrid smell washed over him.

"Time to put that immortality to use." He said, and with a grimace, dipped a finger into one of the liquids, and shoved it in his mouth. He immediately spat to the side, and began to wipe his tongue whilst groaning in disgust and pain.

"Argh, feel like my tongues burning... And was that salt in there?" He complained to himself.

After cleaning his mouth out with some water he pulled out of his storage, he did the same with the other liquid. The results were similar, with Tim coughing for a little while until his mouth healed, and he was able to properly express his opinion.

"Fuck!" He yelled, swilling water in his mouth and spitting it back out. "Why would you take this shit anywhere?" He said, and looked at the barrels.

His eyes flitted between the two open barrels in front of him, and then he slowly turned to the empty pots that were also brought.

"Oh this is about to get so much better isn't it." He mumbled to himself, and brought one of the pots over to the barrels. Using a bucket, he took some of one of the liquids, and poured it into the empty pot. Then he filled another bucket with the other liquid, and held it over the pot. Taking a second to prepare himself, he took a deep breath, and poured it in.

Grabbing the torch he was using as a light source from the wall, Tim peered into the pot. Inside, he could see the liquid bubbling up, and felt a rush of air hit him in the face.

Immediately he reeled back, as pain erupted in his eyes and throat.

"FUCK!" He yelled, rubbing his eyes, which didn't help. Then he began to cough, as the pain in his throat intensified. At this point he decided it would be a good idea to leave, and burst from the room. Making his way upstairs, he bent over double at the door, and began to cough up fluids that were clogging his throat.

Once he had recovered, and had cleared his lungs, he stood up. Grimacing, he looked back down into the basement.

"...I can't just leave that down there, can I?" He said, and after a hearty moan, descended once again into the hell he had made.

Realising he probably couldn't just leave it wherever he felt like, Tim decided to leave the pot to its business on the roof of the library, hoping that the wind would diffuse the gas until it had no effect.

Heading back to Meg, he found her studying the circle embedded in the dead man's skin.

"So I checked out the stuff in those barrels. Word of advice, do not go in the basement for a while, just let me know if you need anything out of there and I'll get it."

"What have you done now?"

"I mixed them, gave off a really nasty gas. If you don't want your throat to liquefy and fill your lungs don't go down there until it's been purified and I've checked it."

"So they were definitely planning on setting a trap and killing us off?"

"Oh yeah. Good thing you wanted to head home when you did or you'd probably have died. Either that or I'd have gotten to you after the trap and you'd have to suffer through it until it wore off."

"Joy."

"So, you know how this guy works yet?"

"Why would I be thinking about that now? I have much more important things to work out."

"But... He's like a lesser version of me. Is that not worth investigating?"

"You only want me to study him so I can replicate it and make someone you can fight."

"...And?"

"And I'm busy cracking open the secrets of the very fundamentals of how magic functions. Which is just a tad bit more important."

"Not to me it isn't."

"Maybe not." Meg turned her head to look up at Tim from her position crouched next to the corpse. "But fuck you."

"...That's uncalled for."

"This was entirely your fault. Don't think I don't know that the only reason you're being so calm and helpful is because you know that this could've all been avoided if you weren't such a selfish cunt."

"I mean... Yeah... Helped you figure something out about magic though didn't it?"

"Do you want a slap?"

"...Not really. Would now be a bad time to remind you that you're supposed to hate the idea of killing people for any reason?"

"They didn't exactly leave me much choice did they?"

"I know, just pointing it out."

"Self defense is different."

"Okay, okay."

Tim hung around for a while, and decided to go see how the pot on the roof was doing. Getting up there, it seemed to have stopped giving off gas. Holding his breath, Tim put the pot back with the barrels, making sure to put the lids back on the two open ones. After he was done, he went back up to see Meg, who was back to writing down her thoughts again.

"You feeling okay now?" He asked.

"Yup."

"Anything I don't know about that needs doing?"

"Nope."

"Okay... I'm gonna head back over to Harold's then, they're probably very confused. See you later."

Tim turned back, and headed towards the stairs.

"Hey." Meg said. Tim stopped, and turned to look at her.

"Could you sleep here from now on?" She asked without looking away from her work.

Tim watched her for a second, and saw that she had stopped writing.

"Yeah." He said. "I'll be back in a minute."

He turned back again to leave.

"Thanks." Meg said in a quiet voice, and guilt sat in Tim's stomach as he left.

He made his way round the back of the library, to the spot near the barn where he had dumped the stone slab. After taking a moment to check on Holly, he transported himself back to the palace.

The second he materialised there, he was greeted with shouting. A servant of the palace had been positioned at the transport circle in case Meg came through, and was relieved to see him arrive. The servant ran off to inform the royal family, and Tim walked after them.

"I'm going to get a right earful for this aren't I?" He said to himself, sighing.

"Tim!" Tim stopped as he heard a voice yell after him from down the hall, and he turned to see the king storming up to him, with the prince right behind.

"What the hell happened?" He asked angrily once he reached Tim.

"Nice to see you too Harold."

"Don't fuck with me! You disappeared out of nowhere and think you can just walk back in like nothing happened?"

"What are you, my ex?"

"Explain yourself!"

"Father." Edgar said, placing his hand on the king's shoulder. The king looked at his son, and  taking a breath, calmed down.

"What happened?" Edgar asked.

"The library was attacked, Meg dragged me there."

"Has it been resolved?"

"Yeah, but I'm going to be staying there at night from now on. In case they come back while she's asleep."

"Understood. Is there anything else we should know about?"

"Yeah, but it can wait till the next meeting. I have a letter to write."

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"Well that'll teach me to assume." Richard said to himself as he sat in his study, resting his chin on his hands. "Actual zombies, will wonders never cease?"

"How are you so calm?" Constans asked, bringing his hand down onto the desk. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"I'm thinking, and getting upset won't help us." Richard said, prompting Constans to pull away, throwing up his hands in exasperation. They had just received the report from the survivors of the attack on the library, and Constans wasn't taking it well.

Richard on the other hand, was exceedingly calm. This infuriated Constans, but even Richard himself was surprised by it. He had expected that if the situation had become any worse, that he might lose himself to worry. Instead, there was an odd calm across his mind, and he felt free from anxiety.

'Perhaps unconsciously I've simply accepted my fate.' He thought to himself.

A knock at the door roused him from his introspection. "Come in!" He yelled, before Constans had time to shoo the visitor away. A servant entered.

"A letter for you sir. It was brought by a messenger of Spara, but it doesn't bear their seal." The servant handed the letter over, bowed, and left.

Richard opened the letter, and after reading the first few lines, read it aloud to Constans.

"To Richard, acting king of Athene. I am writing to inform you that Spara will be invading Athene within the coming months. We will crush your armies, conquer your lands, and end your reign. I shall see to it that everything you have created is destroyed, every friend is killed, every ally turned against you. I want you to prepare for this. Gather your forces, build any weapon you can, lay any trap you can think of, plan any scheme you can. I want you to do this, so that at the end, you know that even though you did everything you could, it would never be enough. I want you to despair as you do your utmost, and are defeated anyway. No final plans, no escapes, no last minute revelations. You will watch as I wipe you from this world, and there is nothing you can do about it. If only you had lived a quiet life, this needn't have happened.

Signed, The Representative of The Goddess of Humanity, slayer of The God of War."

Richard lay down the letter on his desk, bemused, and Constans picked it up to look at it.

"Looks like he isn't happy." He said. "That attack really must've ticked him off. Wonder if the witch was hurt... Still, I never heard of this Goddess of Humanity."

"Neither have I." Constans said, his eyes losing focus as the fear of the divine that was instilled in him over the course of his life chilled his heart. "But it must be true, it would explain his strength, and his ability to defeat a God. Why would he even bother making it up?"

"Well, all we have to do is find a way to beat him."

"Beat..." Constans looked at Richard with wide eyes. "We can't beat him. He's a Representative, there's nothing we can do. It's over."

"Don't be silly. If he can kill a God, there's no reason we can't be done with him one way or another. We just have to think."

Constans shook his head, but Richard continued with his thoughts.

"The witch was there at the library, and was the one defending it. She most likely returned using a transport spell. We know it's possible, the magic research group told us as much."

"How could that help us?" Constans said, putting the letter back down on the desk.

"They said that they can summon whatever they wish, but if they want to summon something specific, they must be able to define it." Richard said, lifting the letter, and waving it at Constans. "And I'm fairly certain the gods only take one Representative at a time, so that's pretty definitive I'd say."

"And I ask again, how could that help us?"

"Because, my dear Constans..." Richard smiled at his distraught friend.

"Killing someone isn't the only way to be rid of them."