Chapter 8: The Letter of Thanks
As the carriage neared the capital, DM’s morphling beckoned Rufus over.
“Yes DM?”
“…I prepared a gift for the king. Please proceed that way for a few minutes so I can point out the location.” The morphling pointed at a path which branched off from the main road.
Rufus didn’t question it; he simply ordered the group to proceed as instructed. Along the way, they encountered several people traveling on foot including some farmers and merchants. All of them spoke of a wyvern sighting nearby and cautioned the group to be careful.
“…There’s no need for caution. The wyvern is gone.”
“I… catch your meaning.” Rufus had no trouble putting two and two together.
A few minutes later, the carriage rolled to a stop. Rufus poked his head in again. “I’ll take a closer look.”
Of course, the morphling waited patiently. A few minutes later, Rufus returned. “Is that large item a plow? I’ll need to send for a wagon or something.”
“…Yes, it’s a special plow. Please make the arrangements. …Was there a box as well?”
“Here.” Rufus handed a flat box made of coarse wood over to the morphling. “What’s in it?”
The morphling carefully removed the lid, revealing a document within. “…I will present this document to the king myself.”
“Oh, uh, very well. We’re turning around.” Rufus issued instructions and the carriage returned to its original route. They were escorted into the city without issue and came to a stop near an inn for traveling nobles. “I’ll send a runner to the palace but we’ll probably be staying here tonight.”
“…You can leave this morphling in the carriage.”
“I…” Rufus struggled with the unusual situation. “I couldn’t possibly expect a guest of the king, even a morphling, to wait outside of the inn overnight…”
“…I insist. If you treat my morphling too nicely then I’ll have to start treating it better too. …Imagine if from now on you had to give your horse a room in every inn you stopped at.”
“Honestly, that wouldn’t bother me too much…” Rufus stopped to give the issue a surprising amount of thought.
“…If you get manure in the room the innkeeper will want to kill you.”
“Okay, fine! We’ll leave it in the carriage, but I’ll still post at least one guard overnight to protect the carriage. I’ll take the first shift!”
“…Suit yourself.”
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The following morning, Rufus’s party reached the palace gate, where they were escorted in. A member of the Royal Guard introduced himself and escorted the morphling from the carriage into the palace entrance. Rufus was the only person to accompany the morphling; the rest of their small party stayed with the carriage.
In a waiting room, a vassal and representative of the royal court also introduced himself and requested to confirm several details, including that the morphling was in fact a morphling, was speaking on behalf of DM, and was prepared to participate in a friendly match of the new game chess. There was one final detail to clarify.
“Was that heavy item we received earlier this morning from you as well?” the vassal asked.
“…Yes. As you can see, it is a special type of plow, and I brought it as a gift.”
“I see. Our best blacksmiths are inspecting it right now. It will not be brought directly into the throne room… I hope you can understand.”
“…That is fine.”
“In that case, please wait here.” The vassal exited, but soon returned to summon the morphling. “Please follow me.”
Rufus kept quiet as he followed the morphling into the throne room.
“The Honorable Guest, DM, Dungeon Master of the Lower Gordu Forest, as well as his subordinate and translator! Also, Rufus Davidson of the Twin Cities!”
DM imagined everyone present was fully expecting his morphling to arrive, but there was still plenty of murmuring as his morphling strolled into the room.
A member of the Royal Guard smiled and nodded, gesturing to the spot the morphling arrived at, so the morphling stopped there.
Rufus lowered himself to one knee, keeping his gaze short of the king’s throne.
The morphling mimicked Rufus, getting down on one knee. However, the morphling was not used to performing such motions and lost its balance. It fell over sideways onto the carpet with an alarming thud as its head smashed into the floor.
Panic erupted in the throne room with several people rushing over to investigate the morphling’s condition. It seemed many attendees thought the fall was caused by something other than simply losing one’s balance.
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The king jumped up from his throne. “What’s going on!? Help him!” His booming voice echoed, although his people were already in motion so it didn’t really matter.
Rufus was the first person to work up the courage and lay his hands on the morphling. He grabbed it by the shoulders and lifted it back up to a suitable posture. “There you are, DM.”
“Bring a chair!” the king hollered as he sat back down.
A few moments later, an aide plopped a chair down behind the morphling, who did not hesitate to sit in it.
“Are you all right?” The king’s face revealed genuine concern.
“…I am fine, and my morphling is uninjured. I apologize for that undignified display.”
The king turned to his Prime Minister. “See? You gave me so much trouble for my decision to just use chairs that other time. Now look what happened!”
“Sire, I think it’s hardly a fair compar—”
“Enough. We should get right to it. Thank you for responding to my invitation, DM. There are many things I’ve been wanting to ask you, but the main purpose of this visit is a game of chess, as I said in the invitation. Before that, can I just confirm that you seek to maintain friendly relations with the Holy State of Whites the same way as you are seemingly on good terms with the Guild?”
“…Yes, I do seek to maintain friendly relations with the Holy State.”
“DM, you may or may not know this given your physical distance from politics, but in the Holy State of Whites, one cannot have a strong relationship with the kingdom unless they also have a strong and healthy relationship with the Church. Does that cause you any concern as a resident of this land?”
“…No. My experiences with the Church have been quite positive.”
“I’m heartened to hear that. Oh, there’s at least one other matter to discuss before moving on to the main event for today. Bring it here.”
A guard handed an unsealed letter to the king, bowed, and backed off.
“I received this letter just this morning. It’s a letter of thanks by a Lord Vagoso of the city of Kharb in the Zarakhelese Empire.”
DM remembered that remarkable old man. He gave Vosk and Burger a verbal lashing during the last war that would be difficult to forget.
“I won’t read the entire letter,” the king explained, “but it seems Charles Burger, the remaining top leader of the recent rebellion, was turned over from Emperor Noah to Lord Vagoso’s custody recently. The letter specifically calls out DM, dungeon master of the Lower Gordu Dungeon, as an individual Charles Burger wishes to thank. Vagoso is simply conveying the message on Burger’s behalf.”
DM wasn’t sure where this was going. He didn’t feel like Chuck Burger held a grudge at this point, but DM hadn’t really gone out of his way to help the man, either. Chuck Burger was obviously happy that DM didn’t slaughter his children earlier in rage, but that probably wouldn’t explain why the imprisoned lord would somehow go out of his way to obtain permission for writing a letter directly to a neighboring kingdom’s king. This communication was clearly highly unusual. DM had the option of keeping quiet so he let the king continue.
“Apparently, your actions from afar assisted his daughter, one Karen Burger, in entering an engagement for marriage after many failed attempts over the previous years. Charles Burger expressed that he is so overjoyed he will work tirelessly upon his release to foster strong ongoing relations between our two nations.”
DM attempted to read the room. Most people listening to the king’s explanation seemed more confused by this revelation than anything else. Even if some lord from the Empire really did want to thank the Holy State, it was hardly a big enough deal to warrant disrupting the court like this.
“DM, although I am thankful that your actions may foster improved relations with the Empire, I realize this is not the first time you have done something to this effect. If any of your well-intentioned actions were to become reckless, they could also have negative repercussions for the Holy State. Therefore, I decided to take advantage of this opportunity and ask you exactly what you did to assist Charles Burger, even after you had already departed the Empire following the recent war.”
“…I’m not certain precisely what action Charles Burger is referring to…” DM’s answer was honest.
“Oh? Well, what’s the last thing you did over there?”
When DM stopped to think about specifically what the last thing he did was, it finally occurred to him why Charles Burger might be so happy with DM, unintended as it all was.
“…I think I know what happened.”
“Oh, please do explain,” said the king.
“…Emperor Noah granted me permission to take responsibility for disciplining Karen Burger following the failed rebellion since I was the most injured party.”
DM could hear more murmurs. Clearly, that was an unusual situation. He also saw the king frown at the mention of DM personally interacting with the Emperor, but the king didn’t say anything, opting to let DM continue.
“…In lieu of any serious punishment, I opted to merely play a few pranks on her using my unusual abilities. Compared to the punishment Emperor Noah would be mandated to dole out, I thought it a compassionate judgment.”
DM noticed Rufus’s eyes in particular were a bit wide at these revelations. DM decided to gauge how this conversation was going on Rufus’s reactions since there wasn’t really anybody else to trust in the throne room.
“…Most recently, in what I thought would be the final prank, I noticed she was walking on a boarded path over a lake alongside a gentleman who was visiting for some type of marriage interview. She made a reckless remark about how she was not at risk of falling into the water. …I could not resist.”
Various people looked back and forth between one another, likely wondering if they were jumping to conclusions.
The king took out a handkerchief and dabbed a bit of sweat from his brow. “DM, what did you do?”
“…I gave her a small push.”
Reactions varied, from horror, to confusion, to hands covering mouths to stifle a laugh.
“Define small.” The king’s voice in particular betrayed no amusement.
“…She may have flipped once or twice before reaching the water. I didn’t count.”
At that, the people struggling to suppress a laugh finally lost the battle.
“…The event may have served to bring Karen Burger and her marriage candidate closer together. From the sound of it, they were engaged soon after.”
The king waited a long time before responding. The people who lost control also quieted down. “DM, does this mean that you have finished carrying out this woman’s punishment?”
“…Yes.”
“I see.” The king dabbed at some more sweat. “I’m not sure what to make of that story, but I do know this. Your methods of rehabilitation are highly unconventional.”
DM felt like the king won that round somehow.