After leaving the shower, Mark had posted himself up on their couch as he ate through a bowl of spaghetti. Amelia had yet to return, so he did not have to bother eating in a refined manner. So he ate, fork shoveling large clumps of noodles twisted like a tornado around his fork into his mouth, all the while using the dungeon core’s interface screen. He could always bring his own screen out wherever he was, but there was something to be said about watching something on a big screen farther away than something small right in front of his face.
Mark was looking at a large overview of their dungeon. He was mainly focusing on the fortifications. There were two circular rings of earth near the center of the clearing along with the coal mounds, generator, and manna bellows just behind the dungeon entrance. Then there was the hundreds of feet of landscaping around them. From the top down view perspective, it was less impressive than it would be at ground level. However the top down view did allow for him to imagine the routes approaching armies would be funneled down when approaching the two earthen circles in the middle.
In some parts earth was raised into steep mounds. In others there was a drop off. It was only a matter of a few feet, but enemy units would still have to be weary since there were wooden spikes jutting out from below. None of the hills or dips were unassailable, but they would delay units. Less intelligent or untrained units would then be funneled into the easier routes, just like how water flowed toward the path of least resistance. Even intelligent units would be slowed and suffer since a collection of even smart individuals acted far dumber when in large groups.
Armies by their very nature restrict individual units. Since the individuals self preservation would naturally keep them close to others for mutual support. Then naturally the units to the sides and from behind a unit would restrict them. Pause in indecision or to get around an obstacle the unit behind might trample over you. When soldiers' blood was pumping, they could get careless.
Mark's designs were based on human nature, which should be fairly transferable for most intelligent beings. He had also had to take into account what they were able to do and how quickly it could be done. In the end, he had come up with their current defense. It was still rough, but it was far better than what they had.
Still outside the area of effect of the defenses were the other dungeon buildings. The crafting house, research lab, and the tent city that was the gnome’s living spaces were well away from the dungeon entrance. They would respawn, so Mark had not spent too much effort to safeguard the buildings up to this point. Eventually, though he would. He could not allow any little random attack cause them to lose a day’s worth of progress.
However, he had not come up with the idea on how to incorporate it all together till now. The current defenses would work for now, but eventually he wanted something more akin to a fortress. In his world the medieval castles had been prevalent for a reason. While magic and flying beasts were potentially a concern they did not have to deal with. There would also be equivalent countermeasures to deal with them as well.
What had been needed was a change of mindset. Instead of trying to build up the fortress around his dungeon entrance and deal with varying degrees of vulnerability during the construction, his current defenses would basically be undone in order to build the fortress. Instead Mark would just build the fortress and then use DP to move everything into its place. That would allow him to defend his dungeon as much as possible while not hampering construction.
However this was a future worry, since the goblins would first have to finish the double pagoda watchtower and barracks first. He wanted it to be made of stone which meant he would need some level 2 techs first as well. It was during this brainstorming and planning when he saw it. About 20 minutes had passed since he had left the shower. He had finished eating a while ago, and daylight was clearly fading.
That was when Mark saw something black break from the trees surrounding the clearing. It was only visible for a matter of seconds. It quickly reached and disappeared behind the crafting house. It caught Mark’s eyes since the speed of its movement made it stand out from the normal hustle and bustle of the gnomes and goblins in the settlement.
Still he perhaps would have just brushed over as an oddity. He had seen plenty of old movies with those kinds of defects, but then there was a second. This time he saw it clearly. It was definitely a unit. Intrigued, Mark decided to shift the view to investigate.
The alarm only set in as soon as he caught sight of what the black streaks actually were. Behind the crafting house stood twin cloaked figures. Reptilian snouts protruded from underneath the hood. His heart lurched at the sight, and terror set in. There was no question on what these figures were and what they were here for. Amelia was in the crafting house. As soon as Mark had recognized the threats, two red dots popped up on the interface, which met his interface alarm condition.
However, Mark was already halfway to the core room exit. Soon he burst through the ethereal portal and out into the cave’s mouth. The legionnaires and yellow hob goblin mages were gathered around in different clumps, a couple with small campfires cooking whatever they had been able to catch for dinner. Mark however, went right past with a quick but urgent phrase. “Grab your weapons, follow me.”
But Mark did not wait or delay a step, quickly leaving them behind. Startled by the sudden and quick exchange they had not even moved by the time Mark disappeared up and over the lip of the earthen wall, snatching up one of their spears on the way.
Amelia: Day 40
It had been less than a week since the piecing enchantment had been completed, yet already Amelia felt that she was getting pretty good at it. Which was pretty great since it was something that for once she was far better than her summoned champion. He thought he was pretty special with his good designs, and they were good. She had come up with several of her own designs, but they were not as good. She could not reach the same quality level that she could with his.
Although it was true that he had seemingly hit a limit. Three piercing enchantment designs, yet he could not make one that surpassed the limits of his first. Perhaps it was limited by the material used. Not that he could even push his own designs to their limits like she could. Probably since he had a tendency to overthink things.
It had been unnatural at first, but eventually the use of manna had become like a sixth sense. It was more than just injecting a set amount of manna as you drew. No she was also reaching out with the very same manna and reading the wood and stone of the arrows. A small knick on the arrow face or a knot in the wooden shaft might require her to make a slight adjustment. Even her lines that were slightly wavy since she did not use a straightedge like Mark did, could be accounted for by compensating on another stroke of the design.
Honestly, it would be wrong to say she was not using trial and error just like he was. The difference was that she was increasing her natural capabilities learning how to cope with the difference in the materials and fluctuating her manna accordingly. On the other hand he was just maximizing his ability with the one design. He would only fall further and further behind.
Amelia allowed a smirk for a moment before she hurriedly shifted back to a neutral expression. It was the worst part of the succession battle. She felt that she was under constant scrutiny. Any moment of hers could be shared with viewers. God forbid they decided to show a scene where she was smiling or laughing madly at the crafting table. How the realm saw her could easily be skewed on whatever moments they decided to show.
Although Amelia was probably safe for now. She was hardly a favorite to win the battle, and would not be featured as often. Few people would pull up her individual feed. She probably was not even expected to make it past the initial stages. She knew her family certainly didn’t. Perhaps they even hoped she wouldn’t. They definitely did not want her to win. After all the only thing worse than some bastard from another faction taking the reins was to have their own actual bastard reach a position higher than their own.
Amelia knew it was not as simple as that. After all the ruler of Arcadia did not hold all the power. They were more like the face, while the ones who wielded true power did so behind the scenes. Still being the face was also a powerful position that could easily be used to check the other entities if used correctly. In a way it could be even more powerful in the right hands.
Not that Amelia felt that the right hands were her own. She only had a basic education. Enough to keep her from making a complete fool of herself the few times she was not kept tucked away. Bastard children were not uncommon in Altair society, but they were kept in their place. Wives generally did not want some kid from another woman, usually from a far less noble family, to take away from what could be her own children's.
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So while Amelia was still a part of the Cromwell family. In another aspect she was not. It would not be out of the realm for her family to send her off to get married as a part of some family to family deal, a sort of sacrifice. In the end, she supposed the type of sacrifice had just changed. Not that she had not been given the choice. There was always a choice. Altair society guaranteed its citizens certain rights.
Naturally, things were not so simple. The family could easily force her into marriage or something else by making the alternatives to what they wanted that much worse. She had not been told it directly, but it had been implied that her options were to either be the contender for the succession battle or get married off. The marriage partner would probably be on the more undesirable side, since it would basically be a punishment.
Before being chosen as the contender, getting lucky in getting a good marriage partner was the best she could hope for. Then if she had kids they would be a naturalized part of whatever family she had been married into. She had always found it odd that her own kids would likely get a far different upbringing then her own. There was only one other outcome for her if she were to refuse her family's whims. She would be forced to leave the family, which was worse.
The familess or untethered as they were called in Altair lived a miserable existence. In Altair, families were everything. For the untethered it was difficult enough to feed themselves let alone scrape out a living. Even a bottom rung powerless family could take shelter under a more noble family but no one cared what happened to an untethered, which inevitably meant only horrible things would happen to them. They were after all sinners who had been pushed out of their families or unfortunates who had lost their families by some other means.
At the time she had felt fairly confident when she accepted the contender position when given the option, thinking she would rather die than marry some horrible person. While she still thought that way, actually being on the edge of life and death had weakened her resolve.
The Cromwell family had only recently risen to become the pillar of Altair society, so naturally had received the honors of sending a contender. Being one of the weakest factions, they had no hope of actually winning the battle, so there was no one exactly jumping to volunteer, despite the tens of thousands of auxiliary members. After all they could live quite the good life, even if they were a low ranking member of the family.
So the family had fallen back on the seeming tradition of Altair society in regards to the succession battle. They would manipulate someone who had little say in the matter. Of course They had decided on one of the other bastard children in the main family, named Bron. Amelia had been in the same position as him, both illegitimate children of one of the main family members. However, he was far older than her, so they did not actually interact. He had been allowed to prepare for over a decade for the battle. At least they wanted him to make a good showing, but at the last minute had instead elected to run off with as much as he could carry.
Perhaps Bron had gotten cold feet at what was deemed to be his inevitable and untimely death, or perhaps he just wanted to screw over his family the only way that he could. Maybe he just thought he could get away with it, although that was less likely. He would likely be found in a matter of weeks, although it would have been too late to still send him. Instead, they had just decided to send her.
Amelia knew why. She was cute and naïve since she had been sheltered most of her life. Even what schooling she had, had been mostly done virtually. They definitely did not expect her to win, so perhaps they thought the tragic death of a cute young girl would garner some sympathy. Other factions would not really fault them, since everyone knew that an Altair contender winning it was a one in a million shot.
Although she had only gotten a few days of preparation prior to being whisked off to who knows where, she had determined to not go quietly. Within the first few minutes of the hour preparation period, Amelia knew she was in over her head. She tried her best to make good decisions, but the gravity of it all made her feel more like passing out.
Amelia chose social interaction as her specialization. She knew it had been more of a longshot, but she had seen some battles before. Similar specializations had given contenders the ability to pick up techs or other benefits almost instantly from neutral factions. The other specializations might give a steady boost of constant benefits, but she had felt that she would need a significant edge if she wanted to stand a chance in this battle. Perhaps it was just a risky gamble, but it was seemingly working out.
Amelia had to either go with goblins or kobolds since they were the cheapest humanoid branches, and she wanted to save MP wherever possible. She did not really know the difference between them, so had gone with the goblins. Now in hindsight it might have been better to go with the kobolds since they were more intelligent, which would have gone better with their specialization, but Mark had somehow gotten it to work.
Getting a champion had definitely been her best decision. At the time, she had seen her starting MP drop down and her mind went blank on what to do next, so she had finally decided to summon him.
Of course she had to grab someone from one of the lower realms since people in the Arcadian realm could refuse it. Who would willingly side with someone everyone thought was destined to lose within the first few months. Even the champion selection criteria could not guarantee a champion would choose to stay and help her. She did not know what would happen if they refused. Would it just summon someone else, or would she just be out the 10,000 MP.
Then it came to the selection criteria. At first she had picked things that she knew she would need, intelligent, knowledgeable, decisive, confident and level headed. All things she knew she needed and was not able to be herself. Perhaps, there had been a couple other legitimate traits that she had picked, but her memory was a bit hazy. If it had ended there, then the interface would have chosen the best candidate that excelled in all those areas. Perhaps then she would have gotten one of the greatest minds Mark’s world had to offer, but… She had not stopped there.
She had been under a lot of pressure, being faced with imminent death. In a moment of inspiration she had decided if she was only going to live another couple of weeks or months she might as well do so with a cute guy. Then she had then quickly added the condition that they must not be more than 10 years older than her. She was at least aware that in lower realms that humans lived shorter lives. Last thing she wanted was to spend what little time she had left with some ugly old or middle aged guy.
But… she also had not stopped there. A champion would undoubtedly be tied to her for life. Normally, they served as an advisor or were given some perfunctory position in their government. A couple were even married, or were already married. Amelia knew that if she did make it through the succession battle she would either marry her champion or get pressed into marrying some arrogant spoiled noble. There was even the possibility of her then husband resting complete control away from her, making her nothing more than a pretty face.
No thanks, in a spark of brilliance she had decided to leave the former option open, and was not now, while imposing champion selection conditions the perfect opportunity to get everything exactly as she wanted. Of all the moments during the succession battle, it was the one that made her cringe the most. What kind of face had she been making as she added at least a dozen conditions?
She had probably looked raving mad, and the viewers would definitely know the conditions she was imposing had nothing to do with the succession battle. It was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of her life, but it had seemed so reasonable at the time. And worse she had not even been in the right state of mind. She had been like, ‘Oooo, he should have this, and Ah! definitely that.’ She could not even remember all the conditions she had set, and the ones she would make her cringe. Mark could never find out.
With all that said, one would think that the champion who got summoned would be the perfect guy for her. She had quickly realized that he wasn’t. Perhaps ‘too much of a good thing’ was true after all. Mark definitely was not bad option especially for her since she had always had low expectations on what her family would get for her, but he was definitely not perfection. Perhaps her many conditions had muddled the waters too much, creating too many areas her champion would have to excel in, or perhaps it was due to her irrational state where she was throwing any and every condition that came to mind. Regardless, Mark was what she got.
Amelia sighed after recounting her embarrassing past. Her mind often flashed back to it when the thought that billions of people might be watching, came to her. It was clear that it was almost nighttime, since the building's windows showed only the faintest hints of sunlight. No one else was present in the crafting house. The goblins had left long ago. They had an almost inherent laziness that always came to surface if someone was not on top of them. Even Crouse the fanatic gnome inscriber had left a while ago to join something he was even more fanatical about, drinking far into the night. She had better go.
Amelia did not like to be outside when it was dark. For one the surrounding woods were ominous at night. Second, she might run into one of their many underlings. They might be on her side, but the goblins still creeped her out. She definitely did not want to run into one when it was pitch dark outside… again. She had before, which had caused her to scream. Another embarrassing moment for the whole realm to potentially see.
Amelia hurriedly started to gather her things into her bag, when the alarm sounded. They were under attack? It was odd there had not been any warning. Had someone entered their dungeon through one of the other entrances? She pulled up her tactical screen, and she almost passed out.
The red dots were just behind the building. Zooming in, she found that one was looking through the window… At her! She tried to remain casual. Mark would have heard the alarm. Was he already on his way? Screaming for help would not do anything except perhaps have them attack her sooner, but she could not keep her body from shaking. She was terrified. More than she had ever been. There were literal monsters coming for her.
She could not do anything but stand there and watch the tactical screen. She watched as the kobold, looking through the window at her, ducked back behind the building. The two exchanged a few hand signs, before they both drew wicked looking daggers with a serrated spike on their backs. Then they slowly started to creep along the side of the building toward the front door. The windows were high and would be awkward to go through. Breaking the glass would for sure garner attention.
She should run. She knew she should run, but her body was now trembling so badly and her body would not respond properly. It was all she could do but to keep herself from collapsing. She was already leaning heavily against the inscription table. “Mark please…” she trembled.