Overpowered Wizard

Gilbert was on guard duty while the ladies bathed and cleaned up in a crystal clear pond behind him. The trio were further ahead of the soldiers’ march, left of the path the young men were taking to reach Bramblevale.

While the ladies had a solid ten minutes to bathe before Roland’s young soldiers passed by, Gilbert wanted to make sure he steered away any entrepreneurial scouts. Those young soldiers hadn’t felt the touch of a woman outside of their own mother let alone seen a village girl naked in all of their years.

Gilbert wouldn’t know what that was like. It sounded terrible to him.

By the time he realized he’d liked girls and puberty was in full swing, he was already entangled with them behind his pop’s barn. Or in the back of the old beat-up pickup truck with a mattress that had some kinks in the springs that dug into his back or knees, depending on the position.

So, yeah, Gilbert was on guard duty and staying focused. It was either he stood here to steer away the young peepers or Naomi would kill the poor kids.

Gilbert didn’t blame the young fellas, but he didn’t admit that aloud. He’d grown wiser over the years, and being the second oldest of the party made him feel older than he ought to.

“When I was younger, I would’ve given anything to see a piece of Naomi,” Gilbert drawled, sighing. “Weird, huh? That woman will literally kill you with a look. But that’s my problem. I always did get drawn toward danger. You get me, huh? Loner?”

Ah, yeah, Gilbert wasn’t alone.

For the past couple of days, while the chief was having a ‘private session’ with Bianca, the goblin skeleton remained in the woods outside the peripherals of the soldiers. Loner could be stealthy when he wanted to be, especially when Hannah used enchantments like Quiet or Blend.

Loner did the same old thing as expected. He leaned coolly against a trunk that was a few trees over to Gilbert’s right and had his ivory arms crossed over his ribcage. Hearing Gilbert’s drawl, Loner slowly turned his empty sockets and rictus grin in Gilbert’s direction and gave his standoffish glare.

That was enough of an answer with Loner.

For Gilbert, it was plenty.

“Yeah, Loner, I used to be reckless and full of heart. By the time I ran the circuit all around my town, everybody knew.” Gilbert yawned and recrossed his aching arms. They were sore from today’s workout with Naomi.

Sometimes, he wouldn’t use the Healing Force just so he could remind himself of discomfort and soreness. He always liked the soreness after a nice big workout.

“A few of the dads in my hometown wanted to shoot my back full of birdshot. Things ended up bad enough that I had to skip out of town and stay with an aunt down in South Florida. Somewhere along the way, I got serious, became a cop, and did an ok job of being a cop while still picking the worst women to marry.”

Loner kept glaring at him, which was enough of a response.

“They were hot though, my ex-wives. The first was mean as hell. The other was as wild as a fox. In the end, I got burnt by both.” Gilbert sighed as he looked dead into the skeleton’s eyeless sockets.

Loner gave him a slow shrug with a little bone rattle to go with it.

Gilbert smiled at that despite a bit of the heart ache coming up. Loner was decent company, but he didn’t compare to the men Gilbert had worked with.

Kenneth would’ve talked Gilbert’s ear off for the hundredth time about how to make a marriage successful and picking the right woman. Mark would’ve talked derogatorily about women to where Gilbert would want to punch the guy. Lincoln would’ve talked about how he had another date and one-night stand with a smoking hot narcissist.

They weren’t the best of men.

But Gilbert had known them well enough for a while.

Now he had to keep moving forward and making something out of this fantasy life of his. He couldn’t trust going back home to Florida. To be fair, other than a job and mortgage and some distant family, he didn’t have too many pressing reasons to return outside of not facing corrupted monsters and killers and to regain certain comforts.

He mostly wanted his comforts, like a fishing rod and a day off.

“How about we hit up a joint that has some … entertainment for men … when we finally reach civilization. I know, I know, that’s the sinner in me talking, but a man can only be strong for so long.”

“Are you saying you want to go to a brothel?” asked a voice that came from Loner’s direction.

That couldn’t have been the taciturn goblin skeleton. Still, hearing that voice nearly spooked the bejeezus out of Gilbert until he recognized who it came from.

“Chief!” Gilbert called.

“Sir!” Naomi came running like the wind while covered in nothing but a blanket they’d taken from the soldiers. She held the thing with only one hand, and it stuck close to her wet skin.

“Heavens, almighty, woman! Put on something more appropriate! You don’t think all your exercising will impact others?” Gilbert shouted, turning away.

He was old enough to know there were boundaries you shouldn’t cross with the people you work closely with. He hoped the chief was conscious of that.

Then again, Gilbert sensed that Zarian was too clueless to do anything with the power of his position.

“We really need new clothes don’t we?” asked Zarian, still playing the disembodied voice act.

It didn’t help that his voice sounded from around Loner. Did he have the power to speak through his skeletons now?

Why not?

Gilbert figured Zarian could do practically everything. It almost made Gilbert question why he needed a party when Zarian was practically a one-man army.

If he really is training Bianca, what is the point of that? Bianca has a great spirit, but she’s got a long way to go before she’s as fierce as Naomi or has Hannah’s deadly smarts.

Gilbert had the advantage of being able to heal rapidly with reduced chances of a permanent death, so he could fight consistently.

Other than providing some great distractions and blinding people painfully, Gilbert wondered what more could Bianca achieve if the ‘private session’ with Zarian was strictly work related.

Naomi glared down at Loner, who kept leaning coolly against his tree, not bothered whatsoever. Naomi was the same way, ignoring how she made the blanket wet and tight around her form, her backside to Gilbert, forcing him to keep looking away and staying strong.

“Ah, I get it, you’re speaking through your spectral spider,” Naomi said, surprisingly cheerful, like she solved a hard puzzle. “I can feel these tiny sparks, their little brains I think, working when you speak.”

“That’s my girl. I was wondering if someone would figure it out. Take a look around you,” the chief said, his voice multiplying from above, below, and on all sides.

Gilbert scanned the stony forest around them and saw glimmering, shimmering forms of spiders smaller than his hand. They quickly faded in and out of view, becoming harder to spot than ever before.

There were dozens of them in the branches and on the moss-covered block piles. There was even one on Gilbert’s left shoulder.

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“Don’t worry, I didn’t let them peek, and they just got there. Bianca and I are above you guys, by the way. We’re thinking about doing a flashy, go big or go home entrance. Bianca has some eccentric ideas, and I’m in a funky mood.”

Gilbert liked nothing he just heard in that spiel. What the hell happened out there? Why was Bianca coming up with eccentric ideas? What had made the chief have a funky mood?

“Hey, maybe you should make a landing near the pond so we can work this out together. Iron out the kinks first, before we make waves.” Gilbert sounded like a wise big brother to his own ears, hoping that would work on Zarian.

“Go big or go home if you’re not a punk,” Naomi said, instigating.

“I’m interested to see how much Bianca has changed.” Hannah strode up with her Roller Golem at her side.

She was dressed more appropriately in the smallest set of soldier clothing. They still didn’t fit her very well.

She tossed a tunic, pair of pants, and pair of boots at Naomi, who stripped down and dressed up rapidly.

Gilbert had nearly turned to look, stopping at the last split second. That was a close one. Way too close.

When he finally looked back, Naomi was more appropriately dressed. Gilbert let the younger, eager part of him calm the hell down and remember Naomi as the ‘Walking Death’ she was.

Now, about this madness of making a big, troublesome entrance.

“Chief, come on. We gotta slow down a little and prep up for our time in town. You ain’t got a clue of all the things we’ve dug up while being so-called advisors,” Gilbert argued. “Come on down now and let’s be peaceful. Let these tired and traumatized boys carry their dead to town. Let’s leave the rest of this march uneventful.”

That all sounded reasonable. How could anyone argue against that?

Gilbert noticed Hannah shifting sides, looking more reasonable. Naomi remained full steam ahead, which was to be expected.

Zarian didn’t respond through his spectral spiders, obviously thinking about it all. He had to see to reason. Gilbert had faith.

“What’s that above us? Is that a harpy? A winged drake? A monster?” shouted a young soldier at the head of their march.

The soldiers were caught up to Gilbert and the ladies and were just over yonder from the pond. They were shouting up a storm, drawing swords from their scabbards with a rough hiss or drawing arrows on bows with a subtle croak.

Naomi was already running ahead. Gilbert and Loner kept Hannah and Roller company as they left behind the pond.

They trampled through bushes, ran across piles of stone blocks, and even did some ninja-like parkour, diving through gaping stone windows and leaping over a fallen draw bridge that collapsed into a short creek.

Then Gilbert, Loner, Hannah, and Roller – who used kinetic force to keep up on every hop – stumbled to a stop on the side of the major cobblestone path. Naomi was already there, looking up. They followed the battle psion’s gaze and saw a hugely ridiculous display.

Bianca was descending gracefully from the air while framed by brilliant stalks of captured light. She had a glowing halo above her head and concentrated beams shooting out from her sides like she had multiple wings.

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Gilbert couldn’t be sure if she was lowering down because she could fly or if she had invisible spider webs holding her for the wire-flying act.

Regardless of how she was pulling off this stunt, the act was mesmerizing. She wore a dress that only existed in fantasy, billowing in the air tastefully, while covered in gems and colors that reminded Gilbert of a bountiful field of flowers. She looked like a girl born of angelic royalty from an old Irish fable or something even more imaginative.

“Hey, Hannah,” called Naomi.

“Yes, Naomi,” replied Hannah.

“I’m very jealous.”

“I am, too.”

Both women nodded at each other, and just like that, they formed a pact set against Bianca. Gilbert didn’t think they’d meant anything serious about it. But he wasn’t going to intervene.

Instead, he observed the effect Bianca had on the soldiers. She was bewitching even while she was covered in layers of adventure gunk.

Gilbert imagined with that dress and her natural good-looks she would’ve been too much for the young soldiers if she had cleaned up in the crystal clear pond first.

Then she spoke with a power that shook Gilbert and the others up to their core. Something about her had a supernatural, magnetic, otherworldly impact that went beyond gamified abilities.

“Be not afraid!” Bianca declared.

Gilbert frowned. “Oh, hell no.”

“I have the approval of the gods!” Bianca carried on, her bare feet touching the ground daintily. “Do not question the approval of the gods, or you go against the force of goodness itself!”

The soldiers looked cowed, easily bent to Bianca’s will faster than Gilbert had expected. They didn’t look like they would ever question her again.

“I must be the judge of that!” Roland declared. “You’ve disappeared with the repulsive and evil creature you claim as your own! How can you claim to have the approval of the gods when you were out gallivanting with the essence of villainy?”

“Then let me show you.” Bianca’s eyes lit up like a mini searing flash.

A radiant, beautiful, and scary smile beamed from her face. Then she burst apart into a thousand motes of light and reassembled in a blink in front of the officer.

Bianca placed her hand on Roland’s shoulder before the officer could do a thing. She released a pulse of that mysterious and spooky power that gave Gilbert shivers.

It was a power that went beyond the basics of the System. This new power felt like an experience that Gilbert, his father, his pastor, his neighbors, and everyone that was a good Christian would call … divine.

It can’t be. Not in this world, Gilbert thought immediately, clenching his jaw. He tensed up as he watched Roland buckle under Bianca’s hand.

“You’re good aligned, yes?” Bianca asked, standing over the kneeling Roland.

“Yes, ma’am!” Roland shouted, his body shivering, barely able to keep his head up.

“I’m good +3.”

The entire army unit froze. Then they all dropped to their knees.

Gilbert looked at them all with wide eyes. Why did being good +3 matter that much?

He checked with Naomi and Hannah, who were keeping up their jealous pact while clearly interested in how any of this was possible.

How did Bianca learn to wield goodness itself? What the heck happened to the silly Latina they’d grown fond of despite her ditziest moments?

“Yes, see, I’m a high level of good.” Bianca’s voice thrummed with more of her +3 alignment power. “So, don’t question me when I say my friend is to be welcomed and treated well. Or you’ll upset me. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m nowhere near your level of goodness! I don’t deserve to question the likes of you!” Roland shouted.

The nearest soldiers nodded rapidly.

“Okay, then! Zarian, they’re going to be nice now!” Bianca yelled up.

Gilbert looked into the sky and saw a hazy and dark outline. It would’ve been easy to mistake it for a buzzard until it plummeted to the ground fast.

Then with a flapping expansion of her leathery, patchwork wings, Para the Parasite Cloak slowed Zarian’s descent. He landed like an evil version of Batman, but more horrifying. A palpable and sinister force oozed from his presence.

Then the evil feeling faded, leaving a figure cloaked in reddish, tannish, brownish leather that could’ve been mistaken as dried human skin if Gilbert hadn’t known better.

The darkness under Zarian’s hood was impenetrable, like a solid void that would consume someone’s soul if they stared into it for too long. Nothing else about his body was visible.

The weight of his presence alone was dangerous.

He wasn’t hiding himself anymore.

“Hello, everyone,” Zarian said, sounding suave, dark, and sinister. “I’m a friendly, evil aligned wizard. You’re all safe around me. You can trust me.”

“Yes, exactly, trust him!” Bianca said, her eyes shining, her voice backed by the power of her goodness. “It’s because of him I’m good +3 after killing wulvers.”

“The wulvers? Is that what you said? You’ve killed them?” Roland was practically out of breath, sweating profusely, as he groveled in front of Bianca and Zarian.

“We’ve also turned back a gnoll raiding party and saved your kingdom!” Bianca declared.

“A gnoll raiding party?! Saved our kingdom?!” Roland shouted.

Gilbert couldn’t help but find this all sad as the young lads kept playing to Zarian and Bianca’s tune. God almighty, why were the youngest of them so reckless?

Zarian, twenty-one. Bianca, nineteen. Dark. Light. Evil. Good. And complete and utter trouble together

“Alright, alright, are you two satisfied?” Gilbert asked, walking into the middle of the mess, hoping to break it up.

“But I want them to praise my dress,” Bianca said.

“It’s beautiful, ma’am!” Roland said quickly.

The other soldiers chimed in:

“You’re so pretty!”

“You’re like an angel!”

“Please marry me!”

“May I touch you?”

Bianca nodded to the praises, smiling. “Thank you. The dress came from an elven princess. And no, you can’t touch. That’s a little creepy, and you’re not a handsome elf.”

Roland paled. “Did you say elven princess? Which elven princess?”

Zarian answered: “The one who was known as the princess of war when the elven lords warred with the orcs of Castle Grimrock.”

Before Gilbert could butt in again, Roland was moaning, shaking, stumbling to his feet. He shuffled close to Bianca, stopped, jerked away, then assumed a position outside of arm’s distance and looked her dress up and down and at odd angles.

“They can’t be serious,” Gilbert muttered. “When did y’all meet elves to get an elven dress?”

“We’ll tell you later,” Zarian said, with a hint of dark amusement.

Roland shouted, lost to the mania. “This is the dress. The fabled dress. The one from the children’s stories I’ve learned. I’ve even seen it in a painting owned by Bramblevale Lord Cassian of Paxton! This is the dress!”

“I ain’t heard of no dress, Lord Roland. What’s it supposed to mean?” asked a soldier.

“It means we need to show the utmost respect to our guests.” Roland held his hands together and lowered his head, smiling greasily even with his mustache. “Sorry, sorry, I should’ve known you all were very important guests of the kingdom. From Florida, the World of Swamps and Princesses! Of course, of course, you said that. And I’ve mistakenly ridiculed you. My goodness, I’m in the presence of royalty. You are a princess with an entourage, Princess Bianca!”

Bianca held her head up haughtily.

Gilbert sensed a jealous atmosphere growing stronger behind him, sending shivers down his spine. Ignoring that, he glared down at the biggest troublemaker of them all, Zarian.

The chief’s face remained hidden behind the impenetrable darkness of his hood. But Gilbert could tell he was having a lot of fun.

“Can we get a move on? These guys need to get home and bury their dead,” Gilbert grouched.

“How can you say that to a princess of good +3?!” Roland shrilled.

Gilbert nearly smacked the young man, but held back in the end. He gave Bianca a no nonsense glare.

Bianca’s glowing goodness dimmed a little as she looked properly ashamed under Gilbert’s heavy gaze. She’d gone let herself have a power trip, and Gilbert wasn’t going to help her when Naomi and Hannah raked her over the coals a little.

“Gilbert’s right. You all need to keep on the march while Bianca and I get a proper wash. We’ve been roughing it for a while even before killing wulvers and dealing with gnoll raiders,” Zarian said, sounding more amenable and with some sense.

“No need!” shouted Roland. “I have a buildable man-sized bath. We can place it on one cart and wrap it in curtains. Any man here who gazes upon your visage while you luxuriate will have their eyes removed. We’ll heat the baths if you prefer.”

Roland kept rubbing his hands together sleazily, eager to serve.

Bianca looked even more eager to be pampered. Then she glanced past Gilbert and fully saw the other ladies of their party. Her expression dropped into a distraught one, which Gilbert found was appropriate.

“No, thank you,” Bianca said, demurely. “I’ll take the pond bath. I’ll have a proper bath once we’re in town. Like everyone else.”

“I’ll take the hot transportable bath,” Zarian said, “and a cart to myself. I really don’t feel like walking anymore and could use the special treatment.”

Nobody questioned him or went against him. Bianca had completely crushed any dissent or rudeness about the presence of evil among the soldiers.

Gilbert felt off about all of that. These boys had to empty one of their carts and find space when all of them were already overburdened.

“This cart only has bodies. Do you want me to save them for your burial?” Zarian pointed at a cart getting pulled by the alien oxen of this world. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Para’s tentacles, tendrils, and feelers reached out and slurped up all the bodies. They were gone before anyone could stop Zarian.

“I have them secured in a pocket dimension for objects,” he said “Go ahead and clean this cart and set it up for me. I’ll be back. I’m starving, and your rations aren’t enough.”

“Um, sir, the forest of the king is not for us to hunt,” Roland said.

“Of course, it’s not for us to hunt. Nobody unimportant is hunting in that forest. So there’s no reason to make a report, correct?”

Roland looked like he was learning to read between the lines for the first time. “Yes, of course, there’s no reason to make a report,” Roland said.

Gilbert palmed his face at the wanton abuse of power. Hadn’t Zarian wanted to be more careful and subtle at first? Weren’t they supposed to be advisors instead of a princess and her entourage?

Gilbert wondered what the hell happened out there to change his mind.

Zarian ran off. Then he returned and threw something at Bianca that looked like a can of … no, it couldn’t be.

“Bianca, what’s that?” Naomi gasped, breaking her silent pact of jealousy.

“Is that what I think it is?” Hannah asked next.

Bianca beamed a bright smile, literally, and ran over to the girls with the impossible thing in her hands. She passed it to them, letting Naomi and Hannah touch it.

Gilbert slowly ambled up, unable to believe what he was seeing.

It was … a can of coffee … from a popular brand.

Gilbert reached out to touch it. Bianca slapped him lightly on his hand. She shooed him away.

Gilbert blinked dumbly at her.

“You can’t have it,” she said.

Gilbert felt like she stabbed him in the chest. He asked: “Why can’t I have it?”

“Because that’s what Goddess Shadowfell said. I’m not a fan of her evil ways, but she might become our benefactor or whatever. Which reminds me, we might need to shop around for a good god to balance our party’s alignment. Zarian and I are reps of evil and good, so our benefactors should be the same.”

“Um, run that back. I can’t have the coffee because of Shadowfell? The messy ‘idol’ with the corruptive tears? That Shadowfell?” Gilbert ignored the frightened looks of the nearby soldiers.

They didn’t matter anymore. The coffee mattered.

“Yup, that’s the one. She’s impressed with us and gave us this as a boon.” Bianca nodded seriously.

“She’s okay with me,” Naomi said.

“I would like to have a chat with her, directly, if that’s possible,” Hannah said. “Can you imagine how fascinating a conversation it would be to talk to a goddess of her young age, presented with all of that power as a baby from the start?”

“Yeah, sure, so, who wants to make the coffee?” Naomi asked.

“I’ll do it for my girl besties, right?” Bianca cheered.

“Yeah, yeah. All is forgiven. Now answer me this. How strong are you? Do you think you can beat me in a fight?” Naomi asked.

“What was the most critical part of your development?” Hannah asked. “What was Zarian like as he trained you privately? Was he gentle? Or did he push you hard?”

Bianca told them everything as she worked on making them coffee, using whatever they had available – which meant taking what the soldiers had and mixing that with magic.

Gilbert stood outside of their girlish and sinful covenant. He felt cold even though it was late afternoon in Late Summer.

There was coffee right there. Right freaking there. And he couldn’t touch it because it came from a twenty-year-old false goddess of evil.

He couldn’t even pay much attention to the valuable conversation. He walked away instead and found a cart to lean up against.

Loner walked over, ignoring the gawking soldiers, and leaned next to Gilbert. The goblin skeleton gave the healer his usual eyeless glare and rictus grin.

“Thanks, bud. I appreciate it,” Gilbert said. “At least I have my faith.”

“I won’t judge you if you break it,” said Zarian’s voice, floating from Gilbert’s shoulder.

“God, dammit, chief!” Gilbert jumped, his heart hammering.

He patted around on his shoulder, but he felt nothing. The ghostly thing was either untouchable right now or gone.

He imagined Zarian out in the forest, acting like a hungry beast while having a laugh. All while spying on them from the trees or up close with no one knowing.

That was straight up horrifying.

Then Gilbert smelled the scent of coffee. The girls had that thing going quick. They sounded happier, laughing, cheering, enjoying themselves with a caffeinated drink from the old world.

Gilbert nearly broke. But he held fast to his faith.

He stayed strong.

Loner glared up at him for a long while. Then the goblin skeleton shook his head, as if in pity.