-[Chapter 017]-

Once onboard Ivar’s ship, Basil was shown to the captain’s quarters. The room was about as cramped as he could have expected for such a small vessel. On a more valuable ship the captain’s cabin and the other interior compartments could be expanded by stretching the space out with a magic enchantments, turning them into a pocket dimension similar to how the Doom Mansion was. But such magic rituals were costly and, indeed, completely unnecessary for an auxiliary ship. The vessel was meant to act as a scout for the flotilla and to escort larger ships on longer journeys, and as such it could be readily resupplied by them. The few canons that it carried were not intended for full-on fighting so much as skirmishing within its own weight class.

There was little in the way of creature comforts present, but Basil did notice a pair of large cushioned chairs that were tucked away in the corner of the room. They were an obvious last-minute addition and looked incredibly out of place for the otherwise utilitarian cabin.

The acting captain tried his best to tend to the dungeon keeper’s needs. “I apologize for the modest accommodations,” Ivar said. “We had not expected to receive word of your arrival on such a short notice. We had to make do with the ships we had in port at this time.

“Please,” he gestured at the cushioned chairs, “make yourself comfortable. It will be some time before we reach Port Malus, even at full speed. I hope that you won’t mind the thread-bare condition of this vessel in the meanwhile.”

“Is this a warship?” Basil asked.

“Y—yes…” the man cautiously answered. He seemed weary of a trick question.

“Then you have nothing to apologize for,” Basil said. “A luxury yacht would have drawn more attention. This ship will allow us to blend in with the local traffic. Secrecy offers its own measure of defense.”

“Of course,” the acting captain said. He dragged one of the cushioned chairs over to the dungeon keeper. “As I said, it will take a while to reach Port Malus. I hope that I can assist you with whatever you might require in the meanwhile.”

Basil once more cast his dispassionate gaze around the room. “There is little to keep my attention here,” he said as he noted the chart lined walls. All the maps were of local ports and points of interest. “I would rather spend the time above the deck,” Basil declared.

Ivar drew a pained breath and looked like he was about to object, but ultimately decided against trying to deny something to a dungeon keeper. It was said that minions had lost limbs for lesser offenses.

Basil noted Ivar’s unspoken objection and patted the man on the shoulder on his way out. “I will take precautions to disguise myself,” he said as he marched out of the cabin. “You have no power here,” Basil declared, tempering his decision to disregard the captain’s concerns with a smile, “so you also have no responsibilities towards my safety. Just get me to my destination.”

Ivar had no choice but to comply with the dungeon keeper’s decision. He looked on in silent defeat as the demon walked out of the secluded cabin.

When Basil emerged from the hull, he found the ship’s crew squabbling with the passengers. The hardened sailors were quite insistent that Basil’s minions should cover themselves up with their weathered cloaks so as to better blend in with the rest of the crew.

The minions of Schwartz had already accepted the offer and were currently skulking in the corners, nooks and crannies of the deck where their shapes would be further shrouded by the shadows. The lavishly equipped shield maidens of Scarlet, however, were having none of it.

“I am not putting on a filthy rag, you scurvy ridden animal!” one of the women declared as she threw the coat back at the sailor.

“But you stand out way too much, miss!” the sailor pointed out. He was not wrong in his observation.

The proud paladin was infuriated by the implication. “How dare you even speak to me?” she said. “Disappear from my sight before I flay you, mongrel!”

The other shield maidens observed the exchange with great amusement, themselves having already refused similar offers. But their smug expressions vanished the moment their Master appeared on the deck. The women immediately cut their chatter and straightened their postures to appear more dignified in his presence.

Basil said nothing. He simply walked up the quarreling party and examined them with a stern look. Both the shield maiden and the sailor fell silent in the dungeon keeper’s presence. They instinctively dropped down to one knee in a show of respect.

“Rise,” Basil ordered.

The two complied.

Basil took the weathered cloak from the sailor and placed it around the shoulders of the shield maiden. He then pulled the cloak’s shaggy cowl over her helmet.

“Don’t be so quick to reject the wisdom of others,” Basil commented as he walked past the rest of Scarlet’s minions. “Those who cannot adapt to the realities of the Nine Hells tend not to last long among its denizens. Pride has no place here. Obvious targets make for easy targets and it is your duty to protect my life at the expense of your dignity, if that is to be the cost.”

Once the dungeon keeper was gone the shield maidens quickly set about searching for the sailors and their ‘filthy rags’. Their Master had spoken his mind and they were not about to argue with him.

When Basil came to the prow of the ship he found Elnora leaning on the railing, gazing down upon the distant city below. Scarlet was also present, but the magical cloak she wore was shrouding most of her body in a mirage of sorts. The chameleon effect imbued into the fabric of her cloak made it blend in with her surroundings almost as if she was part of the ship for as long as she remained stationary. She resembled a wooden statue up close and little more than a stack of barrels and crates from afar. This disguise allowed the Red Paladin to stand right out in the open as she observed the skyline for possible dangers. There were several astral ships present in the skies around them—many of them far larger and better armed than their sloop with its 18 cannons—but none appeared to be on an intersecting course with their vessel.

Neither Scarlet nor Elnora looked too much out of place onboard the ship. Basil himself, however, stood out like a palm tree in a pine forest. Conscious of this issue, he moved to cast an illusion spell on himself. A shroud of mist consumed the dungeon keeper, for a split second shielding him from sight. When he re-appeared, his demonic visage seemed to have halved in size. He had also taken on a more demi-human appearance. While reminiscent of his bestial form in its features, Basil new body looked like a half-breed, with his non-demonic traits hinting at a human or some similar kith parent. He retained his set of horns, albeit much reduced in size. His skin was still red, but the facial expression of the dungeon keeper was now much less exaggerated. His clothes and equipment also appeared to have shrunk down to fit his new and more modest size.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Basil announced his intrusion as he approached Elnora. “It is me.”

Elnora examined the altered appearance of her Master. “I can still feel your presence,” she said.

Her claim somewhat bothered Basil. He scratched his chin as he pondered her unexpected ability to suspect him.

“Must be because you have spent such a long time in my company,” he said. “Well, no matter. This spell is only meant to disguise my visual appearance anyway.”

The dungeon keeper joined Elnora in her exploration of the distant cityscape. When he looked over the ship’s railings he spotted the tightly packed streets of the 9th Hell below them. This floating island was the top-most layer of the Guild’s domain in the Astral Sea. The stone and marble jungle had no real common design to it. It seemed like it had sprouted up over time as the districts expanded organically, forming an urban maze of sorts, joined together by many winding streets that fed into the major traffic arteries leading further inland. The industrial zone below them was one of the many semi-inhabited sections on the fringes of the 9th layer of Hell. The Outer Districts usually housed communities without governing bodies or a strict rule of law. As such they fostered sporadic periods of growth and destitution as their fortunes waxed and waned at the flip of a coin.

In stark contrast to the chaotic landscape of the Outer Districts, the Guild controlled Inner Districts were intricately designed and micromanaged to a fault. Positioned at the heart of the island, the Guild’s slice of the 9th Hell made up about a third of the total urban sprawl. The Inner Districts were surrounded by massive stone walls, just the foundations of which stood a fair deal higher than even the highest of building in the streets surrounding them.

The Inner Districts towered atop this massive plateau at the heart of the 9th Hell, casting its shadow over the rest. Protected by its stone walls and Guild laws the high-rise metropolis that housed the Inner Districts was awash with splendor and wealth, while the endless urban sprawl surrounding it made for a sorry sight at the best of times. A hundred different towers, temples, pyramids and statues grew ever smaller as the vessel brought its passengers ever closer to the outer rim of the realm; ever further from the prying eyes of the Guild.

“I have never seen the city from this angle before,” Elnora said, eager to strike up a conversation with the dungeon keeper.

“Yes, I don’t suppose you have had much opportunity to travel by ship,” Basil noted. “Well, you are not missing out on much, really. Life onboard an astral sailing ship is far less exciting than the stories would have you believe. That is, unless you are a pirate,” he added. The dungeon keeper nodded towards the ship’s crew. “No matter what the Guild would have us believe, the Astral Sea still belongs to the freebooters and miscreants, and they will never submit to its authority.”

“I didn’t know that you were in command of a pirate outfit,” Elnora said. “I think I have seen this this pirate flag listed in the Guild’s ledgers before.” The succubus pointed to the black, red and gold flag atop of the mast. The image was that of two golden sabers crossed on a black field with three red skulls laid out at the bottom of it.

“This is not my ship,” Basil corrected her. “And these are not my minions.

“The man I mentioned earlier, Admiral Razazil, is an old friend of the family,” he explained.

“You mean a friend like Drum?” Elnora asked. “A former minion of your father’s?”

“No,” basil said. “Drum served House Doom under my father while Razazil was a business associate of sorts. When it comes to navigating the Astral Sea, it is crucial to know a few good sea wolves and old Razazil is one of the best. He has served our House for many years and I have never been left disappointed by his conduct.

“Perhaps you would like to meet with his crew—to make some connections during our visit?” Basil asked. “I’m sure that many of the junior captains serving under him would love to draw up a contract with an up-and-coming dungeon keeper. Such connections could come in handy for you later on in your career.”

“I don’t know,” Elnora said. “Making deals with pirates can be risky. The instructors at the Academy made it clear that they could not be entrusted with handling sensitive operations. The return rate on investment was also below that of Guild’s own contractors’, given the possibility of double-crossing or outright dereliction of duty on the pirates’ part.”

The dungeon keeper nodded. “It is true that most of them cannot be relied on for anything but the simplest of tasks,” Basil said, “but Admiral Razazil is no common raider. And our relationship is that of a patron and his beneficiary. I am not hiring him; I am sponsoring him.”

Elnora raised an eyebrow.

“It is called diversification of assets,” Basil explained. “I have my money working for me in several fields of trade… and in several fields of pillaging the trade of others. Piracy can be very profitable, if you bet on the right crew.

“There!” he said and pointed to the horizon where the shapes of several sailing ships came into sight. They were moored at the very edge of the city where the districts met the red sky. The landmass of the 9th Hell was, in fact, a floating island, surrounded by the endless red void of the Astral Sea. Eight more islands like itself were positioned below it, forming a sort of a stack—thus the name ‘Nine Hells’.

“That is Port Malus up ahead,” Basil explained. “There are several pirate ports on these shores, but none of them quite as nasty as that one.”

“What makes it so special?” Elnora asked.

“Because it is in Port Malus that you will find the most notorious pirate crews,” Basil said. “And the highest-level mercenaries on this tier of the Nine to boot! Only the toughest, bravest and most cunning minions end up surviving there. Being part of a crew also helps, but no weakling monster can hope to survive it’s streets on his own for long.”

“We will be landing shortly, My Lord,” Ivar announced as he appeared on the prow of the ship.

“Ah, Captain,” Basil said and turned to facing the young man. “Can you send a communication ahead of us and tell the Admiral that I am in a bit of a hurry? It would be best if he could receive me in his quarters as soon as I arrive.”

Ivar winced. “We are still a few minutes short of crossing the boundaries of the port, My Lord. We should not broadcast our plans this far out from the Admiral, lest we risk someone intercepting our conversation. If there is any pirate crew looking to collect a bounty on your head or to settle a grudge with us, then they would still have enough time to launch their ships to intercept us.”

“Noted, Captain,” Basil said. “But I am willing to take the risk if it means saving me a few minutes. I have other business to attend to in the Nine after meeting with the Admiral.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“With all due respect, My Lord,” Ivar said. He drew a deep breath and looked like he was about to restrain himself once more from objecting, but ultimately decided to voice his concern.

“Right now, Port Malus is not how it was when you last visited us,” he told the dungeon keeper. “We are in far more danger that you might believe.”

“It is a hive of scum and villainy,” Basil said. “How much could it have changed in a few years?”

Ivar agreed. “Yes, but…” His expression warped in pain at the realization that he would have to press the issue.

“I understand that it is like that someone might to take a shot at intercepting us, but I am more than prepared for that,” Basil said.

“Yes and no,” Ivar replied. “There are a lot of people down there willing to take a shot at just about anything right now.”

“Meaning?” Basil asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” Ivar asked. “Over the past few years there has been an influx of illegal weaponry in the Nine Hells. It is still very much the powder keg that you believe it to be; only now every mad monkey has a lit fuse to wave around to try and get what they want. Given the unbalanced nature of firearms, not even the strongest of monsters can feel safe down there anymore.”

To illustrate his point, the sailor pulled out one of his flintlock pistols from its holster.

Neither Elnora nor Scarlet took the gesture lightly. But before either of them had reacted with violence, Basil raised his hand to stop them. Just as he had expected, the sailor merely wished to present the weapon to the dungeon keeper for inspection.

Basil took out his dungeon keeper’s manual from beneath his mantle and opened it. He then took Ivar’s pistol and brought it close to the arcane tome for examination.

The blank pages of the book began to fill up with information pertaining to the weapon in his hand. At first it showed nothing out of the ordinary, but when a detailed list of arcane enchantments followed the otherwise generic description of the flintlock pistol, the true power of the weapon was revealed.

“This has something called a Grooved Warp Barrel,” Basil quoted a line from the manual.

“The barrel of the gun has been forged and shaped within an arcane forge,” Ivar explained. “Not only does the pistol have the accuracy and range of a full-length musket, but the other enchantments increase its ability to penetrate armor far beyond the limitations set out in Guild’s rules for arms manufacturing. Not even their enforcers carry this kind of firepower.

“Weapons like this one were made illegal in the Nine Hells because of their ability to harm high level monsters. Yet, right now there are many more like it exchanging hands freely, unregulated and unchecked by the Guild’s customs.”

Ivar took out three round shots from his ammunition pouches and offered them up to the dungeon keeper for inspection.

Basil refused the bullets. He put away his manual and handed back the flintlock pistol.

At a glance, Basil could tell the difference between the munitions. “One is a [Frost Shot],” he said, “The other two: [Dragon’s Breath] and [Viper’s Tongue]. They are all Guild sanctioned specialty ammunition.”

Ivar tilted his head in disagreement. “Yeah, well the Guild’s artisans didn’t make these,” he said. “And whoever enchanted them did not comply with the limitations set in the law. They are overcharged to the point where getting hit by a Guild equivalent would feel like being pelted with slingshots.”

The Captain ran down a list as he drove his point home: “Silver bullets for the undead; from common lead for a soft target to heat treated adamantium for piercing dragon hides—there is nothing out there, living or otherwise, that doesn’t have a weakness to one kind of ammunition or another. And right now the black markets of the Nine Hells have them all in ample supply. So many creatures outside the walls of the Inner Districts now carry guns that it has become a liability not to have one. Sword masters are getting gunned down in turf wars before they can even close the lines and I haven’t seen a bow leveled against me for a few months now. And why would they, when using a gun requires so little training that a powder monkey can become an assassin if he gets close enough to his target to make the shot.

“With so much gunpowder weaponry flooding into the Nine, the situation has become almost unbearable,” Ivar complained. He gave Basil a cautious glance. “It is rumored that there are even weapons powerful enough that they could kill a dungeon keeper…”

Elnora felt the hull of the ship grow heavier as an expression of anger dawned across the face of her Master. The vessel actually briefly dipped midair as it responded to the weight of his raw emotion. Basil took hold of the ship’s railing with his hand and proceeded to slowly crush it into splinters as he vented his silent rage.

“Tell me,” Basil said with utmost sincerity, “has the Guild moved on this issue?”

Ivar shook his head in denial. “By the time the Guild began cracking down on the smugglers, the outer districts were already armed to the teeth, so they were easily repulsed. A lot of Guild enforcers have lost their lives in these streets over the last few months as a result of the constant raiding and skirmishing. And from what we have heard, this is happening all over the Nine Hells.”

“I haven’t read anything about this in the Guild’s official correspondence,” Elnora said. “My fellow students in the Academy would surely have told me if the staff had informed them about such a development.”

“Why would the Guild to tell you about their failures?” Ivar asked. “You’re just a Guild pawn—what did you expect?”

Elnora was taken aback by his crude demeanor. She was of a mind to strike him over it, but the Captain seemed to have realized his mistake. He was quick to apologize and elaborate on what he meant by it.

“Pardon me, Miss,” Ivar said, “but low ranked Guild officials, such as yourself, are not told more than they need to know. Up there in that gilded cage,” he pointed to the walled off heart of the district, “there is no truth to be had, only Guild propaganda or silence, when they want to bury something.”

“This is certainly disturbing to hear,” Basil remarked as he observed the cityscape below them. “I knew that crime had generally been on the rise in the recent decades, but to think that the Guild would fail to stop an influx of banned weaponry on such a large scale...

“And you’re saying that this disobedience has spread across all of the Nine Hells?” he asked.

Ivar nodded.

Basil looked to Elnora. “You spent a few years living here while you were studying in the Academy. What is your take on the current state of affairs in the Nine?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t really know where to begin,” Elnora answered. “I only ever saw what life was like around the Inner Districts. They didn’t let us mingle with the wider population at all.”

“But what did you hear?” Basil asked. “How did the social tensions in the Nine feel to you?”

Elnora considered her reply for a moment.

“It’s not so bad that the minions would turn on the Guild at large,” she said. “They still have to rely on their administration for most of their daily needs. Most things seemed to be running smoothly enough—”

Ivar winced in disapproval of her statement.

“—but we were told that crime had gone up recently due to spiking unemployment,” Elnora continued. “For some minions, especially the low-level ones, there really isn’t any other way to find work in the Nine. If the Guild does not hire them, they either end up joining a gang or try and book a contract with some pirate faction for an astral raid.”

“There is a lot of new competition for us,” Ivar agreed. “And they have shown themselves to be rather desperate at times. Everyone is jostling for power and territory right now.”

“I have heard…” Elnora said. The succubus considered the wording of her next statement carefully.

“I am not entirely sure about this,” she said, “but rumors have been going around about some of the crime syndicates offering non-Guild registered jobs for willing minions. Apparently, they have established some dungeons and raiding posts that the officials don’t know the location of. Can you imagine that—a dungeon run by a crime gang?”

“Is that true, Captain?” Basil asked.

Ivar shrugged. “I don’t really know about such matters, My Lord. You should inquire about this issue with the Admiral instead. He has probably forgotten more about the Nine Hells that I will ever know.”

“Hmm,” Basil growled as he considered the situation. “Well, if unemployment has gotten so bad that minions are taking matters into their own hands, it would make sense for the Guild to try and expand. Increasing the number of Guild sanctioned dungeons should give the idle minions something to do. It might take a while, but it will stabilize the employment situation. It would seem that the new apprenticeship program was just what the Nine Hells needed at this time.”

He looked to Elnora for affirmation, but found the succubus expressing uncertainty instead.

“You disagree?” he asked.

“I have pondered the numbers in my spare time, Master,” she said. “How many Guild listed minions do you think your current dungeon employs?”

Basil shrugged. “Four thousand,” he said, “Give or take.

“No, wait. We lost about two hundred Guild minions during the attack on the core and the assault on the city, so I am going to go with three and a half thousand. Arcane constructs not included.”

“That’s about right,” Elnora said. “And how many of those minions do you plan on taking along for your next invasion?”

“On average?” Basil considered it. “I don’t really need more than two thousand. But I prefer to go with even less if possible. I find that the initial challenge is the best part of the whole ordeal.” The dungeon keeper smiled as he recalled his past conquests. “Oh, how I love the struggle of overcoming a superior force. It brings out the best in me.”

“But what do you think happens to the other minions that you discarded after a successful conquest? Elnora asked. “What is there for them to do when a dungeon keeper moves on to his next adventure?”

“Well, they return to the Guild resource pool,” Basil answered. “They have a system in place to organize them for future employment.”

“Yes,” Elnora agreed, “but you are still looking at thousands of minions idling in the Nine Hells while you build up your dungeon. Even then you will hire back just a fraction of them. They are not some tools that can be set aside for such a time as they are needed, but the Guild seems to regard them in precisely that capacity.

“About a third of them are demi-humans,” she said, “And they breed fast. In just twenty years, they can double their populations. Triple them, if the resources permit.

“Now, the beasts and the undead are less problematic, but the Guild only bothers with registering them at high levels, so dungeon keepers tend to lose fewer of those monsters over time due to their elite status. Subtract the dead from the number of new recruits on any given campaign and they basically even out, but only if you suffer high casualties every second campaign—which you certainly don’t seem to do.”

Elnora realized that she was about to touch upon a rather sensitive topic. Still, she bit her lip and decided to delve deeper into the issue.

“And then… there are the demons,” she said. “Oh, boy, the demons… Let’s just say that we tend to thrive in a Guild environment.” She gestured at the city below. “At least half of all the creatures in the Nine Hells are demons, are descended from demons or are currently in a relationship with a demon. And that should not have been the case when you consider that demons usually make up only around 2% of an average world’s monster population.

“Our own campaign against Empire Solar has been so successful that we are bound to add back into the Guild’s minion pool more creatures that we took from it. Even after all the initiation trials that we put them through, over three hundred new warriors, mages and other specialists have joined your dungeon. And by extension they have come under the administration of the Guild. As such, they will not be left behind. But only a few of them will be taken along for the next conquest with the rest set to be incorporated into the Guild or discarder onto the Nine.”

Basil tapped on his chin as he carefully listened to the concerns of his apprentice.

Elnora continued. “A competent dungeon keeper with an average attrition rate of around 20% will end up adding to the total population of the Nine Hells with every conquest. It is only when a campaign runs afoul and the losses go past 30% that more minions are lost than recruited. And I am not even including the issue of constant population growth here in the Nine Hells.”

“I must say,” Basil admitted, “I hadn’t ever really considered this.”

Elnora nodded. “The world that I come from has an attrition rate of over 60%. Native, non-Guild dungeons don’t thrive there. More like, they survive. Barely. But that had kept the monster demographics on my world in balance for as long as Guild had been keeping records on it. The Nine Hells have no such natural selection in place, outside of criminal violence. There is nothing to keep the constant population growth under control.”

Basil hummed quietly as he pondered the situation. “I will need to have a chat with Zaharion about this overpopulation issue, as well as the rampant criminal activity,” he said. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” he told Ivar and shook his hand. “I will make sure that the Guild is on the right track concerning these issues.”

“It is my duty to serve,” Ivar replied. He was about to ask something else, when a number of red flares shot up into the sky above Port Malus. Then, faintly visible in the distance, a ship exploded just as it crossed the boundary of the port. The fiery debris rained down upon the city streets as the burning wreck slowly descended, its astral sails shredded by the blast.

“Crap!” Ivar cussed through his teeth. “Turn the ship around, boys!” he ordered his crew.

The sailors were quick to comply and the vessel begun its turn.

“Why?” Basil asked. “Are we under attack?”

“That was one of our ships,” the Captain explained. “The flares were launched near our quarter of the port, but that was not one of our signals.”

“A rival group?” Basil asked.

“Very likely,” Ivar answered. “At any rate, I was told to keep you away from any danger. I am sorry, but we will have to withdraw until I can get an all-clear from the Admiral himself.”

The sound of gunshots could be heard erupting in the port further ahead. Soon their number grew to where it was clear that the entire area was becoming engulfed in a firefight. Bursts of flame and colorful plumes of magic popped up in the streets surrounding the ships of Admiral Razazil as his sailors engaged with the attackers in an all-out battle.

“It looks like we are out of range of their guns,” Ivar noted. “If we pull back a few clicks, we can wait for the other patrol ships to return before attempting to approach the harbor together.” He scanned the horizon for hostile craft, but spotted no ships traveling in their direction. “At least it looks like we can withdraw safely.”

The young Captain pointed to a pair of towers in the distance. “The ships that we sent out to look for you are supposed to gather there in the case of an emergency. With the port under attack, they will probably follow their orders and meet us there. With their support we should be—”

“Stay the course, Captain,” Basil said and placed his heavy hand on the young man’s shoulder as he imposed his will over him. “Take the ship as close to the Sea Dragon’s Roost as you can risk it. We will walk the rest of the way.”

“I cannot!” Ivar protested. “I have my orders!” He squirmed out from under Basil’s hand and begun backing away from him.

At the snap of Basil’s fingers, the illusion spell was lifted and he turned back to his full-blooded demonic form. “Be careful, Captain,” he said. “I have enjoyed your company thus far, but this is not the time to defy me.”

“With all due respect, Lord Doom, I will not disobey my admiral’s orders!” Ivar declared.

Scarlet slowly turned her head and gave the stubborn sailor a murderous look. Her hand slowly reached for the blade on her hip. But it was not the Red Paladin that made the first move.

Elnora summoned her halberd and ducked towards the terrified Captain. In one swift motion she pushed the spear tip of her weapon through the back of Ivar’s shirt and snagged him by the collar, pulling him up into the air. She then drove the spike at the bottom of the shaft into the deck, leaving the man dangling from it like a piece of meat from a butcher’s hook.

“You will take me to the Admiral now,” Basil calmly declared in the face of the petrified man. “If you refuse, I will throw your entire crew overboard. Have I made myself clear?”

Ivar nodded frantically.

“I am not going to waste my time sitting around, waiting on Razazil, just because of some petty pirate squabble,” Basil said and walked over to the edge of the ship’s prow from where he could observe the rest of the open deck below.

The dungeon keeper raised his hands up to shoulder height as he drew in the attention of all the minions present. Scarlet’s shield maidens, the rangers of Schwartz and the crew of the ship instinctively moved to line up before their superior—the prior out of loyalty; the latter out of fear of what might come out of refusing him.

“Prepare for battle!” Basil ordered. “We will strike the Admiral’s enemies from the rear and drive them into his cannons! Bring this ship as close to the port as you can so that we can meet them in glorious combat!”

Scarlet stepped forward. “Master, if I may. Would it not be prudent to send some of us ahead with a teleport spell to make sure that the Admiral lives long enough for you to meet with him?” she asked. “I doubt that Schwartz will be able to defend him all by himself.”

“He has been ordered to keep Razazil safe and I am confident in his abilities to do so,” Basil answered. “Have faith in Schwartz,” he told Scarlet. “Like it or not, he is your equal.”

True enough, Scarlet did not like that statement one bit.

“Besides, the Admiral is a tough sea biscuit,” Basil concluded. “He will survive. We just need to take the pressure off of him.”

Scarlet bowed her head. “As you command. We shall assault the enemy with all of our forces.” She looked to the ship’s crew as she underlined her intent. “All of them.”

The dark elf captain and his crew grumbled in response to them being pressed into service under Basil’s command, but they dared not to refuse him. At the very least they shared a common goal of aiding the Admiral.

“The time has come to once more to honor the alliance between my House and your crew,” Basil announced to the sailors. “The blood of our enemies will once again reinforce our bonds and the Nine will be reminded of the consequences that come with challenging my allies. Now, let’s split some skulls!”

The minions of House Doom replied with a frenzied roar that swiftly kindled the hearts of the sailors, who went about turning the ship back towards the port; towards the battle.