Minute Mage: A Time-Traveling LitRPG

Chapter 146.1: Welcome to the Kingdom: Plotting

PART 1/2

Asmo walked down a hallway in a large, ornate palace. She was currently on her way to her first meeting with the VIPs that’d survived the assault on the Kingdom’s Edge wall after finally having gathered them all together. This would be her moment to establish herself as an authority, and to get them onto her side.

Because there were sides, here. Sure, sure, everyone was trying to kill the fugitive, or whatever, but Asmo didn’t really care about that. Yes, that was what the Demons wanted—-and in order to borrow their power, she would need to make them happy—-but, at the end of it all, she had no stake in this issue. She had stake in amassing power. They were just the most efficient road to that end. So she had plans to get them out of her hair once she established herself. At the very least, she wanted to oust that annoying fake Koinkar. Then she could have some more freedom in her operations. It was a start.

And step one of that start was getting the support of these VIPs. So she’d planned out this entire conversation. She had a speech she’d give first, and then a prepared response for everything they might say, every question they might ask, anything that could happen afterward. She knew with what posture she would walk in, where she would stand, and who she would look at with each word.

She marched up to the door that led into one of the few meeting rooms in the palace, grabbed the doorknob, and swung it open. With a quick glance at the round table facing the door, she saw that everyone was there—the four surviving VIP strategists. She quickly turned away and faced the illuboard on the wall they were facing.

With a swift motion, she grabbed the Enchanted stick paired with the illuboard and dragged it across the surface, leaving behind a black mark on the shiny white slat. Then, controlling her breathing to show no fear, she calmly drew up a depiction of the city they were currently in.

One of the benefits to using an illuboard instead of something cheaper, like a sheet of paper, was that, as it only actually used illusion magic, the marks made on the board could be erased at will, anytime, meaning it never had to be replaced. And the other much more important benefit was that, as a magical object, it was not only Enchanted to create illusions, but also to do minor mental divination into the head of the user, interpreting what they wanted to draw and assisting them in doing so. It wasn’t always perfect, but generally speaking, a quick doodle that only took a few seconds could look rather realistic.

So, after taking a few seconds to create the basic outline of the city and its walls, the illuboard automatically filled in the rest of the drawing, creating details such as houses in the outer echelons, shops in the middle ring, and in the center, the palace they were currently meeting within. It even labeled the city with fancy calligraphy below it, with the city’s name wrapping around the bottom part of the wall, Kingstown—not exactly a creative name, but Koinkar himself had come up with it when he founded the kingdom all those hundreds of years ago, so most forgave him in his youthfulness.

After drawing the city of Kingstown, Asmo drew, next to it, a much more detailed version of the royal palace within, with the floor plans of every room detailed and labeled, including the war room itself they were currently in. At this point, she could hear the muttering of the four individuals behind her—the VIPs who were once her equals. She had never really gotten to know them on any sort of personal level, or even made casual conversation with them, but she was at least familiar with the capabilities and roles they had during the wall project. She knew them well, and she knew how to present well to this audience. So she ignored their whispers to each other wondering what their new commander was doing.

After drawing up the palace, she pinched her fingers on the board in a command to shrink the current drawing slightly—to ‘zoom out’—and used the newly-made space to draw up a few other relevant cities within the kingdom of Koinkar. She drew up some environmental details like the mountain range of Kingdom’s Edge, some of the major forests, and so on, and…done. Taking a step back, Asmo looked over the illustration to ensure everything was right and she had all the elements there she needed.

“Okay,” she spoke the first words since entering the room, and turned around to look at the four faces staring back at her.

Winic Vigandoth, Carison Aakbi, Keiki Umesai, and Jon Mourn. The mage, merchant, warrior, and healer. Winic had a long, spindly beard that would probably reach his knees if it weren’t so curly and bunched up in messy tangles and knots. Carison was much more slick in appearance, a pencil-thin mustache the only facial hair to complement his bald head. Keiki had intense eyes that seemed to stare straight through Asmo, and long, perfectly-straight black hair that flowed down the back of her chair. And Jon had a fully neutral face that went perfectly with his plain brown robe, nothing to differentiate him from any random peasant one may encounter on the street.

Between the four of them was her chance at power. And she intended to seize it.

“Winic,” she said to the mage, “tell me who I am.”

He squinted his eyes in a sort of look of appraisal. “...You are Asmo, no last name. Or did I forget? I apologize, I’m absolutely horrid with names…”

“No, you are correct. I am Asmo. Tell me why I am standing here, and you four are sitting there.”

“Well, because the Demons chose you to lead.”

“Sure. Why?”

He frowned, now understanding what she was getting at.

“It is because,” Asmo answered her own question when it became clear Winic wouldn’t, “I know more than you, about more than you. All four of you were chosen because you had specialized skills and specialized knowledge that was useful to this cause. I, however, do not. I was not even chosen. I, instead, negotiated my way into standing right here. I have no specialized knowledge that the Demons decided they needed. What I do have is the ability to take what I want. What I have is the ability to want to know something, and then know it. To want to use that knowledge, and then use it. To want to exploit that use, and then exploit it. One might say that I have application where you have theory. Which is why I, as the one who has this skillset, was chosen for this role. Where you can do the things I ask, I’m the one who knows what to ask.”

Winic nodded slowly at her answer.

“Carison,” Asmo turned to the merchant. “Why do they value my skillset? What makes me a useful asset to the Demons?”

“From what you say,” Carison seemed more prepared to answer, “you seem to have something rare. And what is rare is valuable. If the four of us do not have this ‘application’ you speak of, then you, as the sole owner, will obviously be able to ask for whatever you want in exchange.”

“Hm, hm,” Asmo nodded. “And why am I the sole owner? What makes me so unique to have this value in the first place?”

He furrowed his brows, obviously unsure of how to answer.

“One could say I am similar to you, Carison. I was born as nothing. Literally. I did not have a name. Or, perhaps my parents intended to give me a name, but forgot to do so while they were too busy dropping me off on the porch of a random house. Eventually, I found my way to an orphanage, and when I was being signed in, the baby I was, I scribbled on the sheet while the stranger attempted to drop me off. The place I scribbled on happened to be the line they were supposed to put my name on, and since there was nothing better to use, they simply interpreted my scribbles as me naming myself. ‘Asmo’ is a shortened version of the lengthy string of nonsense I happened to spell. It literally is meaningless. Nothing. I eventually worked myself up to the point where my name did mean something, however, as an esteemed royal guard. Just like how you worked yourself to your position as an esteemed merchant. So we have a similar perspective in that sense.”

“So why do you believe you have this skill of application, then?”

“Because, just as I crested that mountain of esteem, I was pushed back down by this invasion. I became a prisoner. Nothing, once more. However, I am now where I am because I refused to stay there. I used what I had to negotiate with them until I was, once again, on top. So, in that sense, while you may have the perspective we share, the Demons see me as the only one to have applied it so far.”

“Certainly respectable,” he nodded.

“Keiki,” Asmo turned to the warrior. “Do you think I would lose to you in a fight?”

Everyone, Keiki included, seemed surprised at the sudden change of topic. The woman stared at Asmo, looking her up and down in an obvious assessment of fighting ability. After a long moment, she opened her mouth. “Yes.”