To Usurp a Throne

King Thrueetch called out to one of the rats that had been standing guard outside his chambers. The rat clearly had been expecting to come in and find a dead Skriskrueel, as the look of surprise on his face was plain to see when he saw a still standing and rather smug looking Skriskrueel. Thrueetch then barked out a quick tirade of orders to the rat, telling him to get the arena ready and to tell the other clanrats that they would have the pleasure of watching their king in combat, and they should be delighted at such a rare opportunity. The rat made some sort of noise that was a mixture of excitement and grovelling, and said, “It will be done, o great one,” before scampering off to god knows where to do exactly as his king commanded.

Thrueetch then turned to look back at John and his girls, displaying a cruel grin full of pus yellow teeth. John felt like a sheep being looked at by a wolf, and he knew the king was imagining something akin to killing John once he was no longer of use. Thrueetch slowly extended his hand off to the side, gesturing to another doorway. “Through there will take you to arena. Scuttle-run there and prepare to become slaves.” He laughed, walking in a different direction and out of sight. Before John could say anything, he felt someone’s hand on his back pushing him through the doorway. He turned his head back to see Mavis pushing him, her other hand clamped around Talia’s wrist.

“Eager to get this over with?” John asked as he tried to find stable footing at the speed Mavis was walking at.

She nodded. “Firstly, he’s a fucking creep. I don’t think there was one time during the entire conversation that he took his eyes away from either my tits or Talia’s ass. Secondly, its been fucking ages since I’ve done any sort of gladiatoral combat. And thirdly, I wanna get the fuck out of this barrow. There’s only so many times I can watch your memories of the surface world.”

John gave a small laugh before one of those statements gave him pause. “Wait, watching my memories… Does that mean you’ve watched me-”

“Yeah. I try to fast forward on those, but there are a lot of them. Seriously, would it kill you to have a different past-time other than jerking off? Would it kill you to play a musical instrument?”

John pondered for a moment on that. ‘Maybe I should pick up an instrument. Could be fun. Always had a thing for jazz, blues, and rock after all…’

He softly began to hum St. James Infirmary to himself when he was **** to stop by a pair of spears clashing in front of him. Mavis had also stopped, glaring at one of the skaven holding the spears. “Mind moving your moldy stick out of my goddamned way?”

The skaven shook his head, clearly not intimidated. “Only you go ahead. Your clan-mates stay here and see-watch from bench.”

Mavis was about to protest when John placed a hand softly on her shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll have a nice view of you kicking Thrueetch’s ass, and we can regroup easily if things get hairy.” John gave her a knowing smile, as they had practiced her ability to be recalled to his side at any time. She told him it was one of the perks of having a soulbound weapon, although it did mean she would not be able to stray too far from him. She gave a small nod before ducking beneath the spears and walking on. Talia grabbed John’s hand, gave it a small squeeze, and then led him over to the benches that the Skaven had gestured to. They were up a small flight of stairs, sitting about 6 or 7 feet above the arena floor. The benches behind him went up for several rows before coming to a wall, and above them there were staggered sections similar to his. It reminded John of a baseball stadium, down to the uncomfortable bench that he sat on.

Aside from the uncomfortable seating, the arena as a whole was a rather impressive sight to behold, and the stonework and lack of patchwork made John think it must have originally been here with the rest of the barrow. ‘Perhaps it was like with King Agviðr. We would have shown up and fought off some boss monster, but the skaven got here before we did.’ He looked over to where they came from, not seeing Skriskrueel. ‘Must be with the king. I should ask him later if there was something here when the skaven arrived.’

“Quite the arena, wouldn’t you say?” an old voiced croned beside him

John nodded in agreement but then paused as his brain processed what he had just heard. The voice was clearly female, yet it was just as clearly not Talia’s voice. It also didn’t sound like a skaven’s voice. If anything, it sounded vaguely European. He turned his head, and sitting next to him was… someone. This mysterious person was human-looking, although John couldn’t be sure, but was very clearly very old. Her skin was wrinkled and a shade of pale grey. Her white hair was long and flowing, about halfway down her back, but at the top of her head sat a small bun with a pair of sticks in it. Her clothes looked to be handmade out of a rough fabric and reminded John of old carpets or drapes found at his grandmother’s house. Her hands were gnarled, with long fingernails like talons and several different bracelets along her thin wrists. One hand was latched onto some sort of walking stick, but with an odd design to it. It had several beads, herbs, and what appeared to be bones tied to the top section, and the bottom section widened out before rounding at the end. At the bottom end were also several different carvings painted with an array of different colors. She sat crouched on the bench that John was on, her bare toes wiggling as she looked out to the arena with a sort of cruel smile. She turned to John, one of her eyes a bright manic blue, the other solid white. Her hooked nose almost drooped down in front of her wide smile as she flashed her teeth at John, and he swore they looked sharper than should be normal for a human.

“I asked you a question, Johnathan Benjamin Newman. Are you not going to humor an old woman and answer?”

John’s eyes went wide as he began to back away from her on his seat. “Y- H- How do you know my name?”

She shook her head, making a disapproving noise as she did so. “That is still not an answer. Did you forget the question? I asked whether you thought this arena was impressive or not.”

John’s breathing started to quicken as this old woman peered down at him. Hundreds of questions flooded through his mind, such as who this woman was, where was Talia, and why did no one else react to her being here? He slowly stood up, his hand trembling. “W... why would you care about my thoughts on the arena?”

She shrugged. “I am curious. I know a great many things, but I do not know everything. So, I am curious to learn that which I do not know, and your opinion on old Nordic architecture happens to be one of those things.” She smiled at him again, lifting her walking stick and tapping him on the side of the head. “So, tell me. What do you think of this place? Quite impressive, no?”

John gulped, looking around. “I-I suppose it’s rather impressive. Could do with less rats.”

The old woman let out a laugh, but it was more akin to a cross between a cackle and a bark than what John would normally consider to be laughter. “I suppose that is true. Skaven are good for many things, not the least being that their tails and teeth make great brews, but their choice in building leaves much to be desired.” She turned back to the arena. “I see you managed to make friends with the Sword of Souls. Quite impressive for one so young and naive.”

“Wait… how do you know who she is? For that matter, how do you know who I am? How do you know all these things? Who even are you?!” John exclaimed, taking a step closer to the mysterious old lady.

She winced and placed her free hand over the ear on John’s side. “So many questions and so loudly! You know, I have half a mind to boil your bones to broth and feed your eyeballs to crows.” She shook her head, licking her lips slightly. “Thankfully, you have much use to me, even if you don’t realize it yet. So I’ll let you live.”

“Th… you didn’t even answer one of my questions!”

“Alright, I’ll answer one of them. I know who she is because I am very old and swords that turn into women are hard to forget about. Does that satisfy you?”

John crossed his arms. “Not really. In fact, it just makes me wonder how old you are.”

She gave a mock gasp and placed a hand over her chest. “Do you not know it is rude to ask a woman her age?” Just as John was about to protest, again, she made a shushing noise and pointed to the arena. “Quiet boy. The fun is about to start.”

John turned back to the arena, and sure enough, Thrueetch was making his way out onto the arena. He had really rolled out the red carpet for himself, and that was no exaggeration. He actually had a pair of skaven unrolling a tattered red carpet in front of him as he walked down to his spot on the arena floor. He had on bright red armor, spikes and what appeared to be human skulls adorning it. His dark fur seemed to even be combed and groomed for this, and John could see that he was salivating. John guessed that Thrueetch expected the skaven, after he defeated Mavis, would invade the surface and strike a critical blow to the elves before they could even react.

In spite of all this, Mavis seemed rather cool about all of it. In fact, she seemed almost overly cool. She took one look at Thrueetch before ignoring him, going back to doing her stretches and looking fantastic while doing them. Thrueetch looked at her, giving off a small scoff before pulling off his back his weapons: a pair of heavy flails exuding a strange green gas. He laughed, swinging them around as he slowly approached her, the gas creating green rings of noxious fumes around him. He changed their trajectory a few times, clearly showing off as the other skaven that had filed in to watch this battle were loving it. John saw out of the corner of his eye the familiar snout of Skriskrueel over on the king’s side, watching the fight with an eager grin for what was to come.

The king continued to approach Mavis, and Mavis continued to ignore him. Thrueetch then stopped when he was about 6 or so feet from Mavis, letting his flais fall to the ground and growled at her, “MAN-THING! You are supposed to fight me! Where is your weapon? Where is your armor? Will you not even try to stab-fight me?”

Mavis calmly looked up at him. “Wait, that was you getting ready to fight? I figured your laughable attempt at intimidation with those spiky balls was more akin to a pre-combat clown show.” She looked around sarcastically. “Hold up, are YOU actually going to be the one fighting?”

Thrueetch growled angrily, tossing one of the flails to the side and taking a few steps closer. “Man-thing, I am the great Thrueetch! I have slaughtered and consumed-ate thousands of your kind! I am the one that elf-things have many nightmares of! You should fear me!”

Mavis snorted. “Wow. Pretty big talk for a headless rat.”

“I am not-”

Just as Thrueetch was about to protest, Mavis’ right arm suddenly transformed into a black and red blade, and with a quick spin, her arm quickly cut through Thrueetch’s neck. She turned her blade back into an arm, and returned to her original position just as his head fell from his neck with a sickening splat onto the floor. The crowd was dead silent as the great Thrueetch’s body slowly slumped forward and fell to the dusty ground in front of Mavis, who was busy picking her nails without a care in the world.

The old woman next to John cackled loudly. “Oh, it has been far too long since I saw something so humorous!” She slammed the butt of her walking stick against the ground in applause, her laughter growing with each moment. John nervously looked around at all the skaven who were clearly growing more agitated, but for some reason they seemed to ignore him and the old woman, and they also seemed too afraid to charge towards Mavis. So they remained in their seats, their chittering voices growing louder, but not enough to overpower the laughter of the old crone on John's side. After a few moments, her laughter finally died down as she wiped a few tears from her eyes. She turned to John, both of her hands holding onto her walking stick as if she were liable to fall to the earth if she let go of it.

“You have found yourself a truly powerful and enjoyable ally, John Newman. But I ask you a question. You have made many deals with many people over the short few days that you have had your powers. Are you certain that every deal you have made is one to be honored?”

John cocked his head to the side, puzzled at her question. “W… what do you mean?”

The old woman shook her head. “I mean, think of the deals you have made. Are you certain they are ones you should have made and should stick to?”

John thought back over the past couple days. The most recent deal he had made was with Mavis, but this old woman just called her a powerful and enjoyable ally. “Do you mean with Skriskrueel?”

“No,” she said, giving him a dismissive wave with her hand. “The rat has his flaws, but he needs you to stay alive so that he can stay in power. Think more, boy.”

“... Frida?”

“No, no, no!” she growled in anger and slammed the butt of her stick on the floor. “You think so much, and yet you do not think at all.”

“I’m confused, why do you even care about the deals I have made?”

The old woman calmed down as the question left John’s mouth, and she slowly turned her head to look back at him. “Because, Johnathan Benjamin Newman, a deal is something one must be cautious of ever getting involved in. You never know who you are talking to and what they really want. I have watched you as you have accumulated power and allies, as well as many enemies simply for who you are. I have watched you make many deals and I do not wish to see such a powerful pawn of Gaia be so foolish as to whom he makes deals with. I am giving you this advice that you should remain cautious, that you are more instrumental to those who would do harm than you realize and you are dangerously close to being used for nefarious purposes, all because you have not been cautious.” The old woman then reached into a small satchel on her side, and pulled out what appeared to be a dented and old coin.

“I am not native to this land, so I only have so much time before I must go. But, if you are smart enough to take my advice and make sure you always think before you accept a deal, then one day I know you shall require my help. Simply take this coin, plant it into the earth and whisper my name. I shall come and make a deal with you.”

John looked down at the coin now in his palm, noting that on the side that was facing him was a picture of a strange hut with a fence of what looked like bones. “But… I thought you just advised me against making deals I don’t know about.”

The woman gave him an unnerving smile. “I did. But my help does not come free. You must decide when you need my help and call on me that the deal we make is worth it, and if I am someone you wish to deal with.”

She then slowly stood up, and John noticed at this point that the whole time she had been next to him that she was not sitting on a seat like him, but was atop an upside down cauldron of sorts. She picked up the cauldron, which looked to be quite heavy, but she lifted it with ease, and tossed it out onto the arena. Rather than fall to the ground, it stopped the moment it was level with the boards they stood on and floated in midair.

“W-wait, you never even told me your name.”

The old crone smiled at him as she clambered onto the top of the cauldron, placing her walking stick into it as her feet gripped onto the rim of the pot. “You shall figure it out. Срећно вам момче.” She then tapped her walking stick on the inside of the pot, to which the pot responded with flying straight up and disappearing from sight into the inky blackness of the ceiling.

“John! JOHN!” John quickly turned his head to see Talia sitting directly where the old woman had, her hands gripping his shoulder and shaking him. “John, are you okay?!”

He gave her a puzzled look. “I… I’m fine. Where have you been?”

She mirrored his puzzled expression. “I... I’ve been sitting next to you. For the whole fight. You spaced out watching it and I’ve been trying to get your attention for a solid minute now.”

John turned back to where he last saw the old woman, then looked at his hand which still healt the coin.

“Where did you get that?” Talia asked before shaking her head. “Never mind that. Point is, we gotta regroup with Mavis and Skriskrueel before this crowd gets any angrier. I think they are about to riot!”

John closed his hand and slipped the coin into his pant pocket, giving Talia a nod and quickly standing up. They dashed down the stairs and back to where they had parted ways with Mavis, who was walking towards them leisurely. Talia was clearly worried, looking back and forth at the two skaven guards who gave them **** glares as they waited for Mavis. John, however, kept thinking to the old woman. Who was she? Why did she have such an interest in him?