Throne Quest, Or It’s Not Usurping If You Usurp A Usurper (Original Story, set in the PGTE-verse)

Once again, special thanks to @Onmur for beta-reading this. He's really the best.

[x] Mercenary's plan; hitch a ride on a carriage or caravan and make your way to the city.

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"We'll do Mercenary's plan," you say. "We'll buy our way onto a caravan of some sort, and make our way to the city."

Mercenary smiles dryly, and Sorceress pouts. Priestess' lips thin, though her display of emotion isn't as overt as the others'.

"Alright, fine," says Sorceress. "Our glorious leader has spoken, and Mercenary is right-"

"So business as usual," Mercenary chimes in, her lone eye twinkling

Sorceress rolls her eyes, though she smiles slightly. "So now that we've gotten our planning done, what do you say we get to the good stuff and hit the booze?"

Priestess lets out a noise that can not be natural, half groan and half shriek. You and Mercenary both roll your eyes (or eye, in Mercenary's case), as much at Sorceress' suggestion as at Priestess' reaction. "Mmm, how about no," Mercenary says. "Planning's done, sure, but the work's not over. We've still got to find someone who'll take us, and then pay them, and then-"

"Aaaand you've lost me," Sorceress says, pushing her chair back and standing up. "I won't be much help anyway - I'm no people person, I know nothing about caravans or traders or whatever, and you're the one with money, so I'll leave that to you. In the meantime, Imma go-" she pauses, glancing at Priestess' face, her pleading expression and big blue eyes. "In the interest of not making our healer keel over dead from an aneurysm, I guess I can call it a day and head to bed. It's getting late, after all, and it's always best to be heroing on a good night's sleep."

You consider trying to make her stay, to help Mercenary find a ride, but you drop the idea as soon as it comes up. It would be a waste of time trying to convince Sorceress to help you on this particular task, and she did have a point; she wouldn't be much help.

That considered, you only sigh as Sorceress walks away from the table and towards one of the rooms you're renting upstairs. Priestess shoots you an apologetic look as she gets out of her seat, following suit. It's more understandable for Priestess - she is a few years younger than you, after all - but while you are still slightly annoyed with Sorceress, you aren't angry or anything.

Shaking her head, Mercenary gets up out of her seat and starts heading towards the exit. You begin to follow her, but she stops you with a look. "No, you can leave this to me," she says. "You go join the others and get a good night's rest. I can handle this."

What? No, you can help. "Mercenary, I'm not like them. You're going to talk to people, try to find a trader's wagon or a caravan or something, right? I'm charismatic, I can help, I-"

"Prince," she gazes down at you with a knowing look. "you don't know the slightest thing about bartering or bargaining. No trader's going to be convinced to let us on for free because you said some sweet words."

"Callowan spirit-"

"Gets played up all the damn time." Her expression loosens, and she sighs. "Take it from me, kid, getting a ride there will cost us, but I can find us a fast ride and get us a good price. I know how to speak their language; quite literally, seeing as I speak Tradertongue."

"No, you-" you pause, taking a moment to compose your thoughts. "Mercenary, I'm the reason you're here. It's not right for you to be bargaining away while I lie in bed. I should be there with you."

For a few brief seconds, Mercenary says nothing. You hold her gaze, meeting her lone brown eye with your blue ones. After a few seconds, she sighs again, closing her eye and reaching forward to place a comforting hand on your head. "Kid, let me give you some advice," she says. "You may not be that experienced, but you are the leader, and there are some leadership skills you really have to learn. In this case, you have to learn to delegate. That's when-"

"I know what delegating is," you cut in, feeling just a little indignant.

"Then try it. You're inspiring, sure, but you're no negotiator. I've got the necessary skills, let me deal with this." A small smile forms on her face. "There's a reason we don't have you or me casting spells, you know."

Well… you guess she has a point. Your acceptance must show on your face, because Mercenary's smile grows just a bit. "That's a good boy. I should be back in a few hours, and if you're awake when I get back…" She pauses in thought, before grinning evilly. "If you're awake when I get back, tomorrow's battle training will be replaced with Proceran history."

Well, that's definitely not something you'll be looking forward to. "Don't worry, I'll sleep."

Mercenary smiles. "Good night, then, Alexander."

"Good night, Mercenary."



Your sleep was restful, though you almost wish it hadn't been. The bed, while not nearly as luxurious as your room in the palace, was comfortable enough that you passed out a few minutes after laying down.

As usual, your dreams were nonsense; according to Mercenary, Named tended to have prophetic dreams. The dreams would occasionally of the future, sometimes of the present, usually over the past, according to Mercenary, but you had yet to have one.

Your dreams, however pointless, had been rudely interrupted by Priestess. She had woken you up and dragged you downstairs, where the others had started breakfast. Sorceress must have been woken up in a similar manner to you, as her dark, silky hair was messy and uncombed.

Afterwards, the four of you had hopped onto a trader's wagon; its owner was a brave soul who figured that being one of the few traders coming into Laure would earn him a nice profit. And so, your trip to Laure began.

From there, all you could do was sit and wait.

And sit.

And wait.

And sit.

And-

"Would someone please put P-Alexander out of his misery?" Sorceress asks, shooting a quick glance to the trader at the head of the wagon to make sure he didn't catch her slip-up.

"Come on, I don't look that depressed," you say. "Right?"

Priestess refuses to meet your gaze and Mercenary sadly shakes her head. "Sorry, Alexander," she says, "but you looked like your soul had been sucked out and forged into a sword, which was then used to kill your pet dog."

From the front of the wagon, the trader chuckles. "You four really are an odd bunch."

"It's what we do best," says Priestess.

The trader says nothing in response, simply shaking his head. You suppose it must be odd for him, seeing you all so unable to cope with a long journey.

Well, maybe not you all. Mercenary seems to be doing just fine, eye closed and arms crossed. If it hadn't been for her earlier reaction, you would have thought she was asleep. Priestess is doing fine too, mouthing what you assume are words of prayer, only moving her hands from the prayer position to brush long strands of blond hair out of her face.

Only Sorceress seems to be bored, but you don't count that as a victory. Being, well, her, most of her amusement came at the cost of your dignity and comfort. She hasn't started poking you yet, but you give it an hour at most. Perhaps, when that time came, you could get Priestess to help you? Sorceress is sitting across from you, and Priestess is beside Sorceress, so if you got her help… Still, you aren't entirely sure if Priestess would consider your comfort more important than the Gods Above.

In that case, the only thing that could save you was a pause in the journey. That, however, would only come once night fell and you all set up camp in the countryside. In stark contrast with last night's dreadful feeling, you would take Mercenary's lectures on Proceran history a hundred times over this... sitting and waiting.

And sitting, and waiting.

And sitting.

And waiting.

And sitting…



It takes a few days, but eventually your wagon arrives near Laure.

"We should arrive in the city tomorrow," Mercenary explains, looking to make sure the trader can't hear you. He's out of hearing range, at the lakeside with the horses, though he's keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't run off with his merchandise. The horses, while originally brought there for water, have now taken to grazing on the grassy plains. "We'll get there pretty early in the morning."

Early indeed. When you had all stopped for the evening, Mercenary had taken out a monocular. Apparently, she could use it to make out the tips of some of Laure's taller structures. Yes, you were very close, perhaps an hour's walk away from the city.

"Now, this is gonna be the tricky part," Mercenary continues. "Somehow, we need to get inside the second or third-most heavily defended city on Calernia. Only Keter and Ater are more impenetrable than Laure, and the second one's debatable."

"So what are our options?" you ask.

"Firstly, we could try staying in the wagon," Mercenary says. "Pretend to be fellow traders, hide among the merchandise, and anything else we can think of. As long as they let our host inside the city, we can go in with him."

"But if they search the wagon or get suspicious, we'll have to fight," says Priestess. "Can't we just try to sneak in?"

"Sure, we can try," says Mercenary. "But we'd either have to scale the walls or open the gates, and it'll be hard to not get caught by whatever undead the Baron has on watch. If we do that, we should go tonight, while we've got the cover of dark. If we make it inside, we can get to the palace before dawn."

Sorceress leans forward, wiggling her eyebrows. "Oooooor…"

Mercenary rolls her eye. "Or, yes, we could commit an elaborate form of suicide by launching an all-out attack on the city."

Sorceress scoffs. "C'mon, it wouldn't be that bad. We wait till they open the gate, rush in, and boom, we're in the city!"

There are a few seconds of silence before Priestess deigns to respond. "All in favour of not letting Sorceress decide our strategy ever again?"

You and Mercenary both raise your hands, much to Sorceress' chagrin. "Oh, you guys are no fun."

"No fun?" Priestess indignantly says. "Your plan would never work!"

Sorceress waggles her finger. "Or, maybe, and hear me out on this one, it's just crazy enough to work!"

She must have expected you all to suddenly realize the error of your ways and agree with her, for she frowns at the group's lack of enthusiastic response.

"Well, moving on," Mercenary says, scrunching up her face in displeasure. "I'm not entirely sure what to do, this time. Staying with the wagon is risky, but more likely to get us inside than if we try to sneak in. And at this part of the plan, there's no telling what might happen that we don't expect."

Once again, you have come to a conundrum. Your three companions are all looking your way, expecting something. An answer. A decision.


[] Stay with the wagon, sneak in on it.

[] Sneak in tonight, by yourselves.

[] Break into Laure tomorrow, weapons ready.