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Mark Wyrd leaned forward on his mount and studied the city in the distance.

Oilton. What a creative name for a place that produces oil from the inexhaustible landscape of the tower.

He’d always expected his first Lordship to be something…grander, in one sense or another. He’d always pictured staking a claim on hostile wilderness on the eleventh Floor, fighting tooth and nail to advance civilization…or a golden city that gleamed in the morning sun, with very little in between.

A quaint little oil-city in the meager third floor wasn’t exactly breaking ground in new exciting frontiers. Nor was it a river-spanning, gleaming center of civilization, like on the fifth Floor.

Mark knew better than to complain, though.

He had the required number of people, he had an empty plot. Like it or not, he’d be a Lord before the sun went down.

There was just one thing nagging him.

“Where’s Ferole?” Mark asked after the assassin his father had sent to clear the way for him. “He should be back by now.”

“I don’t know, Young Master.” Old Bron said. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

He wouldn’t’ve abandoned his mission. Either he did it already and didn’t deign to tell me or the Tangled proved to be more of a challenge than anticipated.

Mark shrugged. “Set a course for the water tanks. We may have to fight our way toward the objective.”

Mark shifted in his saddle, his heart beat beginning to sound like a drum. He knew it was unlikely, but the possibility of actually having to work for his Lordship had a certain charm. A certain sense of satisfaction that eluded him in his daily life.

“As you wish,” Bron nodded, before turning back to the army following behind and organizing the assault.

They organized their ash-striders into a line. Ash-striders were large lizards whose widely splayed feet were able to gain purchase on the omnipresent ash inside the third floor, as their namesake implied.

Mark always found their gait to be incredibly silly, and riding them was an exercise in nausea.

“Charge!” Bron shouted, and the Ash-striders began running, their limbs flopping out to the side, sending up sprays of ash and forcing their riders to sway violently side to side as they ran.

But that speed made all the discomfort worth it.

Some of the riders went through the gate, but others just had their mounts climb the walls, flowing straight over them like a conquering tide.

Mark sent his own ash-strider over the wall for the sheer joy of it, holding tight to the reins as his weight settled into the saddle’s restraints.

A moment later, he joined the others at the top of the wall, primed to combat thousands of Tangled. They were disappointed.

There were human corpses lining the streets, like they’d been briefed, but the flood of Tangled that they’d been expecting failed to manifest.

In fact, there were Tangled corpses strewn about the city, their distinctive features corrupted by Miasmatic Putrefaction.

In a matter of minutes, they confirmed that not a single Tangled remained alive.

Mark stifled a sigh before it happened.

That’s what I get for getting my hopes up, I suppose. It seemed that Father’s personal assassin had come, done his job and then left on more important matters.

“Thank goodness,” Old Bron said, wiping sweat from his forehead as they rode through the streets. In light of the circumstances, they had changed their destination from the water tanks to the Lord’s castle, where Mark would gain his first real command.

The castle was silent and foreboding, the gate was barred and they were forced to ride over thw wall and tear apart the makeshift barricade. The barricade itself was torn apart where a Tangled had pushed through it, but it was still a nuisance.

Survivors? There shouldn’t be a barricade unless people were still alive and attempting to resist the tangled. They seem to be dead now, though.

That was a good thing, because Mark needed the city to be completely empty to stake a claim on it.

Shield generator needs fixed, Mark noted as they rode in the main entrance hall. There was even a hole in the side of the castle tower where someone or something had broken it in the battle.

They stabled their mounts and made their way the throne hall, and right away, something was off.

“Where are all the bodies?” Mark asked, scanning the room. “Survivors?”

“Looters, more like,” Old Bron said, studying the environment and pointing to where empty sockets in the furniture presumably bore gold and gems. He sniffed. “Kobolds. Be cautious of traps.”

Mark clicked his tongue as his humble beginnings became even more humble.

Becoming a Lord in a stripped-down oil-pump on one of the easiest Floors in the entire Tower…with a kobold infestation.

That meant that there were probably some doors with rusty blades rigged to pop out and skewer your foot, or other petty nonsense.

Shield of Wyrd.

64/70 Charges remaining.

The last thing Mark wanted was to get a finger chopped off when he was opening up his new desk.

Stupid kobolds. Let’s get this over with.

“Gentlemen,” Mark said, turning to the twelve young CLimbers who had been selected to become his first Vassals. “Swear your fealty to me.”

Old Bron looked like he wanted to say something, as Mark had skipped a large portion of the grandstanding and speech that had been laid out for him, but the old man held his tongue.

As one, the climbers went down on one knee.

“We pledge our life to your service as Vassals, as witnessed by The Tower.” They said as one.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

You have reached the minimum amount of Vassals to be considered a Lord. Scanning local Territory. No prior claim or residents found. Would you like to establish this location as your demesne?

Yes, Mark thought, striding up the stairs to the throne and taking the throne overlooking his new responsibility.

Congratulations! The Tower has acknowledged you as a Lord. Rule with courage and dignity, and always remember-

Are those bread crumbs? Mark thought, eyeballing the throne’s arm as he sat down

‘Click.’

Click?

***William Oh***

“You were right,” Travis said, his face morphed into a scowl.

“I often am,” Loth replied.

“Those are the standards of the Wyrd family,” Travis pointed out the green and cream standards with the weird symbol.

“Is that why their standard is Weird?” Will asked. Everyone looked at him.

“Get it? The Wyrd’s family crest is we-“

“Yes, we got it,” Loth interjected.

“There’s only one way they could have an army here within a week of the city falling: And that’s if they already had one ready to go before the city fell. They orchestrated this.” Travis said.

“It’s complicated isn’t it?” Will asked. “You’re pissed they took your family from you and grateful you’ll never have to deal with them again.”

For an instant, Travis looked like he was going to lose it, but he sighed.

“Yeah…it’s complicated. Still gonna kill as many of them as I can, though, and…” He glanced down at his boots. “I predict some financial distress from this situation. Can I trade the boots and cloak. back for the cash?”

“Nope,” Will replied, perfectly happy with his five hundred Ivory.

“Damnit.” Travis grumbled.

“Now sit back and watch how Loth handles these bastards.” Will said, taking a seat on the rugged mountaintop overlooking the city.

A few minutes later, a light began to blink on the top of the water tower.

“Looks like the trap there caught someone,” Will mused, watching the amount of steam billowing off the engines begin gradually increasing, subtly raising the pressure in the oil lines.

About half an hour later, Will and Loth were discussing Build strategy when Oilton exploded.

It started with the castle, which erupted with burning oil as the over-pressured main line ruptured directly underneath it. The castle shattered, boulders of flaming rock going every direction as a fireball that dwarfed the mountain they sat on rose into the sky.

Will could feel the heat.

Then it spread to the rest of the town as those flaming boulders landed in the streets, rupturing more and more oil lines, flooding the streets with flaming oil, engulfing the entire city in choking smoke and hellfire, a scene straight out of a nightmare.

Godsdamn, Loth. I didn’t expect you to get the whole city with one trap.

“Great One…” Grak said, his eyes white all the way around.

BOOM! A loud noise right beside Will made him flinch.

The small army of humans, Kobolds, and Jibleya started at the explosion in their midst.

Will looked over and saw Loth teetering backwards, his clothes burned away and his scales on fire.

Will lunged forward and caught him before he hit the ground, ignoring the fire crawling up his arm. Loth’s scales were burning away, as if being subjected to a monstrous heat that seemed to radiate directly from his skin.

“Loth, what happened!?” Will asked, but Loth was unresponsive. “HEALTH POTION!” he snapped at Travis. Rich kids could afford Health Potions.

Travis reached into his satchel and whipped a red ampule through the air to Will. Will caught it and snapped off the top before dumping it on Loth’s body. The healing happened first where you put the potion, and the damage was-

“Get it in his mouth! He needs to breathe!” Carrie said, kneeling down beside Loth and dumping one of her own in his mouth.

Loth let out a harsh cough filled with smoke and the stench of burning meat, followed by a gasp for air.

“What happened!?” Will demanded, standing.

“Thorn effect!” Travis said. “The Wyrd family is known for it.”

“And you didn’t warn us!?” Will shouted.

“I have never in my life heard of Thorns triggering from indirect damage!” Travis shouted back.

“Well, you just saw it!”

“Hey, umm…” Brianna interrupted them. “Is that a problem?”

In the distance, a single flaming figure had stepped outside the burning city and was sprinting at ungodly speed towards their mountaintop lookout.

Will came to a decision.

“You want that money back?” Will said, grabbing his sack of Ivory and offering it to Travis. “Give me the rest of your health potions and do your Class proud.”

He nodded toward the streak of fire headed towards them.

“…Deal,” Travis said, snagging the bag out of Will’s hand before reaching into his satchel and tossing another three red ampules his direction.

Travis began to sprint downhill, and Will made to break the rest of the ampules, when Carrie stopped him.

“You need to stagger them. He’s still burning. If the effect runs out before he stops taking damage,” She nodded towards the flaming figure below them, “Loth will die.”

“Even then, he’ll need a healer, the damage is far too extensive for a simple healing potion.”

Will had a healer on tap to the southeast, where Steve was supposed to meet them at their original destination.

…Maybe thirty miles that direction.

“Hey, you giant cunt!” Will faintly heard Travis’s voice in the distance, followed by the jingle-jangle of his annoying whip. “My name is Travis Oilton, and I just ruined your day! Whaddyagonna do about it!?”

BOOM!

Will glanced up from Loth and saw the massive explosion of fog from the Cloak of Misty Escape. An instant later, Travis shot out of the side of the cloud like a bolt of lightning.

So that’s what it looks like when I do it.

“That cloud is blocking his view of us too,” Will said, lifting his burning teammate in the crook of his left arm, ignoring the pain as his clothes began to singe. “We need to move.”

Carrie and Bri nodded, following him as he began to sprint down the side of the mountain. Loth gasped and caught on fire.

Will broke an ampule and poured it down Loth’s throat as he ran, attempting to smother the fire as best as he could without slowing down.

Need to move faster. Need to cover thirty miles as quickly as possible.

Even sprinting at his top speed the entire time, Will didn’t think he could get Loth to the Stronghold any sooner than an hour.

I need some way of…

Will tried targeting the distant stronghold with his Gravity Charge, but it fizzled. Whether it was out of range, out of sight, or just because he didn’t know exactly where it was or what it looked like, it didn’t matter.

Will didn’t have a free hand, holding the remaining health potions in his hand, so he shot a bullet out of his Phantom Hand at the next mountain and targeted it with Gravity Charge.

8/25 Charges remaining.

Will lifted off the ground, Loth’s weight providing only meager resistance as he began falling towards the bullet flying into the distance. He drew a long arc through the air, following the bullet’s arc until finally landing on the opposite mountain some thirty seconds later, a tremendous shock travelling up his knees, dampened from painful to tolerable by the Combat Platforms.

He’d gone maybe half a mile by cutting across the valley. Bri and Cassie sprinted along behind him, desperately trying to keep up.

That’s not far enough. I can’t shoot anything further than that, though, If only-

A bolt of inspiration struck him.

“Why, did, you, stop?” Carrie asked, panting as she reached the top of the mountain.

“I think I can get Loth to the Stronghold fast, but I’m going to have to leave you behind to do it,” Will said.

“Do what you gotta do,” Carrie gasped. “I’ll keep Bri safe.”

Brianna nodded, giving Will a push forward.

Will nodded, then targeted Phantom Hand with Gravity Charge.

7/25 Charges remaining.

Will’s feet left the ground as he angled the Phantom hand forward and up about fifteen degrees…and kept it there.

The faster he went, the faster Phantom Hand went to keep pace as he and Loth fell into the sky, never slowing down or arcing, instead drawing a perfectly straight line through the sky.

In retrospect, he should’ve juked a bit.

Will reached the speed of a falling stone, then kept speeding up far beyond that as the wildly more potent draw of Gravity Charge tried to catch up with the Phantom Hand, which could never tire. Will’s primary Ability was acting like the mechanical hare in those dog races in the capital he’d heard of.

He had no idea how fast he was going, but the landscape slid by underneath him, and the wind was so strong that his clothes whipped painfully against his skin, as if lashing him to go faster. It was only thanks to his goat mask that Will was able to keep his eyes open at all.

He could do this forty-seven seconds at a time, far, FAR faster than a man had any right to move, faster than stone falling from a clear sky.

I’m gonna make it!

…DEAR GODS I CAN FLY!

Something pulled tight around his ankle and nearly pulled his leg off, whipping him straight down to smash into the ashen ground, creating an impact crater around where he’d cradled Loth’s body.

“Looks like we got the right one,” The Climber bandits said, looming over him as he rolled away from Loth’s fire-ravaged body.

Will looked up at the blood-red sun, and the two ugly faces peering down at him. His entire body was a blossoming bruise, and moving seemed ill-advised.

There was a single unbroken Health Potion in his hand.

“Where’s the girl you stole, goat-boy?” The bandit said, kneeling down beside Will’s supine form.