20 Crown of the Orcslayer

"Do you have, like water or something? To wash my mouth out?" I asked, stepping away from the puddle of vomit at my feet.

"I have not required food or drink for many centuries," Cordelia told me. "I apologize."

"It's alright," I muttered. I could still taste it. Gross.

The chamber was suddenly filled with the sound of stone sliding against stone. I blinked and looked to the coffin. Cordelia stood before it, holding her hand out, and the lid lifted off it and settled down on the floor beside it.

"You may take the Crown," Cordelia told me. "Use its power well."

"I'll try," I said. "And um, what power does it have, exactly?"

Cordelia grinned.

"Alright, fine, don't tell me. Not like anyone wants to tell me anything anyway." I shook my head and stepped up to the coffin.

The corpse lying within looked just like his sister, in that both were featureless skeletons with unending skull-grins. But while Cordelia was dressed in old robes and still moving, Arcturus was dressed in old armor and didn't move at all. It took me a moment to recognize the armor as the same he wore in the illusion Cordelia had shown me, albeit more tarnished and stained than the gleaming, blood-soaked armor Arcturus had worn in the Battle of Istalfax.

My eyes fell to the silver crown on the skull's head. It was thin, with five crests; two in the back of the head and three in the front. It was the only part of Arcturus' outfit that was still shining, which caused it to look distinctly out of place when compared to the age and decay that surrounded it.

I reached out to the crown, and noticed for the first time that my hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath to try and steady myself, I grasped hold of the crown and gingerly pulled it from the long-dead hero's skull.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, exactly. Maybe supernatural heat or some sort of static spark of power? Instead, both the crown and the skull were just cold, like the stone that surrounded them.

As I lifted the crown out of the coffin, I realized I was holding my breath and let it out. I think I was kind of expecting the skeleton to get up and yell at me or something. Maybe talking to Cordelia had warped my ideas of how skeletons behaved. But all Arcturus did was lay there, unmoving but for what motions I imposed on it. Dimly, I realized that I was now holding the Crown, and the Orcslayer's body still lay as it had for centuries.

"Now wear it," Cordelia said.

I shivered. I had been so absorbed in the Crown and the corpse that I hadn't noticed the lich floating up beside me. Glancing at her, I noticed that her gaze, such as it was, was directed not at me but at her brother's body.

"Alright," I said softly, "here goes nothing."

I put the Crown on my head.

Nothing happened.

I looked at Cordelia. She turned her head and looked back at me. She did not say anything.

"Um… nothing's happening," I said.

Cordelia cocked her skull to the side.

"Oh, right," she said. "It was always so second-nature for Arcturus, I forgot it's not for everyone."

I waited for her to continue. She did not. "So…" I prompted.

"Right. Hold out your hand like you're holding a sword."

I did so.

"Now visualize a sword in your hand."

"What kind of sword?" I asked.

"Any should do. Just as long as you expect to hold one, it should work."

So I imagined I was holding a sword in my hand. It wasn't too difficult; I'd seen a lot of swords being carried around by adventurers in the city. Plus I was a friends with a blacksmith's apprentice. I'd seen swords. I'd seen lots of swords. I knew what swords looked like.

Unfortunately, it turned out that I was less experienced in what swords feel like, so when a magical glowing sword suddenly materialized in my hand, I staggered and nearly fell over.

"Holy shit that's heavier than I thought."

"Yes," Cordelia said. "It's made of metal."

I frowned at her. She didn't seem to mind.

"Give it a few swings," Cordelia suggested. "Get used to the weight."

That seemed to simultaneously be the best and worst idea I had heard all day. I took a few steps away from Cordelia and experimentally swung the sword.

The heavy-ass weapon swung through the air and carried me with it, and next thing I knew I was on the floor.

"Ow."

"That could have gone better," Cordelia said.

"Yep."

"You should summon the sword again and try again."

"Summon…?" I realized that the blade had vanished from my hand. "Where'd it go?"

"The sword cannot be turned against its wielder," Cordelia explained. "If it's in danger of cutting the one wearing the Crown, it will dematerialize."

I groaned as I stood up. "So if it wasn't a magical bullshit sword, I would have just cut my head off?"

"Well, no," Cordelia said, "you would have sliced your chest in two."

"That's comforting." I summoned the sword again and gave it another swing. It went much better this time; I stumbled a bit but didn't fall over, so that was progress.

"Good job!" Cordelia said, with just enough genuine enthusiasm to convince me that she meant it and was not, in fact, mocking me.

"Uh, thanks." I swung the sword again. It was awkward.

"After a bit of practice, you may be able to handle this."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Wait, handle what?"

Cordelia pointed, and I turned to find that there was a crossbow bolt suspended in the air, its point directed at, and only a few precious inches away from, my throat.

"Holy fuck!" I shouted, jumping backward.

"Don't worry, I caught it," Cordelia said. "That gentleman over there shot it."

I looked in the direction she pointed, just in time to see a man dressed in black step out from behind one the pillars lining the hall.

"Corvus," he spat with his hissing voice.

"Oh," I said, feeling somewhat dazed. "Hi Salazar."

"Sissarha!" the Serpentfolk growled.

"Right," I said, "sorry." I looked from him to the sword to Cordelia. "Well… fuck."