Titan: A LitRPG Adventure (UnderVerse Book 4) by Jez Cajiao (beach books .txt) 📗

or dyed a glossy black, with a streak of red slashing across the helm and down over the right pauldron. Each was armed identically with a large triangular red shield and a spear, a heavy short sword clattering against their leg with every step.

“I am High Lord Faustus, and I own this relic,” the man said, coming to halt several feet back from our party and speaking before I could. “I have come, as a gentleman, to discuss your immediate removal from my property, and to accept your apologies and the restitution you owe for this damage.” He gestured toward the flattened trees.

“What?”  I started to growl in shock, but he merely strode past me into the tent, followed by two of his guards as the rest took up station nearby.

I started to turn, fully intending to give this stuck-up fucker a piece of my mind, when Romanus quietly interrupted me.

“The second party is here…” he said discreetly, and I growled under my breath, shaking my head in frustration as I ignored the prick inside helping himself to the food we’d laid out.

The second party proved to be larger than the first, with fewer guards, but far more people. Where the first group had topped out at eleven, counting the guards, noble, and his umbrella bearers, the new group was composed of at least twenty. Only four guards were easily noticeable, but two men dressed as nobles were being carried along on separate palanquins. Each was supported by four muscular beings, the one on the right borne by heavily muscled cat people, the one on the left by people that made me think of velociraptors given humanoid form. Following behind the palanquins were another ten or so men and women of various species, each dressed in an odd blend of fashions, but all talking excitedly and occasionally pointing at the Legion and the ships.

They came to a halt a few steps from me, and both men slid down, the older man being helped from his palanquin by a young boy I’d not noticed before, while the other younger man jumped clear himself.

Where the first noble had dismissed me as unimportant, these two looked me over curiously before eyeing Romanus and shooting an unreadable glance at each other.

The older man took the lead, speaking clearly to Romanus, while the younger peered around warily, stopping only when he spotted the first party standing off to one side.

“I am Lord Hannimish, Count of the Southern Woods and the River Gaige. I have come at your request. Where is your master?”

“Hannimish!” the second noble snapped, interrupting Romanus as he opened his mouth to respond. “Look! That ass Faustus’ men are here!” Hannimish turned to look in the direction his companion indicated and growled, his color bleeding from lightly tanned to florid with anger.

“I see Faustus has beaten us to it. Very well; where is your lord, Legionnaire? Tell him I have an offer for him that will eclipse whatever that thief Faustus thinks to offer! Hurry up, man!” he snapped, glaring past me as though I didn’t exist and squinting into the tent, where Faustus glared back at him. Romanus turned to me and bowed, fist to heart, and spoke loudly and clearly so that both parties could hear him.

“Lord Jax, Scion of the Empire and High Lord of Dravith, Master of the Great Tower, and Champion of the Himnel Arena, Count Hannimish feels he can make you an offer, although what that is, he has declined to state.” With that, he straightened up and returned to a position of attention.

“Thank you, Romanus,” I ground out, trying to remain as calm as possible. “Sit with me. I think I need to reevaluate this meeting, as I’d expected common courtesy, at the very least.” I turned, walking into the tent, and shaking the rain from my hair. Once inside, Oracle shifted, blurring to full size, and joined Romanus and I as I strode purposefully to the back of the tent, tipping Faustus’s jacket onto the floor and sitting in the seat he’d obviously decided was his.

“How dare you!” he gasped, dropping his hand to a slim rapier that hung on his hip. Instantly, the atmosphere of the meeting changed, as the Legion came to life. The Legionnaires around the outskirts of the clearing spun to face the tent, one in every five facing outwards to maintain their watch, while the rest drew their swords and stood ready.

Romanus had his hand on his blade, Augustus and Restun had appeared from seemingly nowhere, while Tang and Yen joined the two Legionnaires stationed in the doorway.

The two small groups of guards were surrounded in seconds by dozens of battle-hardened veterans, and the air crackled with the promise of death. I turned to Faustus, who had frozen, his rapier only half-drawn, as he registered the reaction of the Legion.

“I’d recommend you sheath that,” I said flatly.

“Who do you think you are!” he snarled at me, eyes flinty with hatred. “I am L…”

“Lord Faustus, high muckety muck, chief wanker and all that.” I waved my hand dismissively, cutting him off as I sat back. I casually braced my naginata across my lap as Oracle came to stand behind me, one hand resting lightly on my right shoulder. “You see, there’s a problem with any title you claim,” I said slowly and distinctly, biting the words off. “I am the High Lord of Dravith, and all titles, deeds, and laws in my lands are officially up for review. As such, you can call yourself lord, king, or whatever else you think you deserve, but it doesn’t mean shit.” I steepled my hands in front of me as I watched him gape indignantly.

“Now, you stormed past me as if I didn’t matter… okay, I’m not dressed appropriately, so maybe that’s on me, but the way you acted before the Legion Prefect and his men? Legionnaires that you damn well had to recognize as officials of the Empire? No. That’s not acceptable.” I