-[Chapter 022]-

Basil joined the Admiral at his desk, taking the seat of the guest, but there was no mistaking the true state of affairs. Razazil had welcomed a greater power into his chambers. The scene was made all the more striking by Basil’s guardians who resembled two bruisers, looming large behind their master as he waited on the old Sea Dragon to share with him his discoveries.

Before addressing his guest Razazil spent a moment collecting his thoughts. Perhaps it was the weight of the recent battle that burdened him so… or, perhaps it had more to do with the conversation that was to come? Either way, he could not disguise his troubled disposition from his guests.

“I understand that you might be feeling a little on the edge right now,” Basil said. “Rest assured, it is very much my intention to help you slaughter your foes for what they did to you today.”

The Admiral nodded. “They will get what’s coming for them in good time,” he said.

“Well, I’d rather we went after them sooner than later,” Basil suggested. My business will not keep me in the Nine for long.”

“Then I will try be brief with my report,” Razazil suggested. “We both have pressing matters to tend to.”

“Do you know where Iron Sentinels and Red Hands operate from?” Basil asked. “We should strike at them now, while they have not had the opportunity to regroup.”

Razazil sought to dissuade the dungeon keeper from rushing ahead into yet another battle. “We are in no position to counterattack right now,” he insisted. “My crew needs time to recuperate.”

He raised his hand to preempt Basil’s next suggestion. “While I fully intend to claim vengeance over this insult, I will need time to make the necessary preparations. So we should just skip on over to discussing the reason for your visit, if that is fine with you.”

The dungeon keeper seemed bemused by the Admiral’s refusal. “Why delay, Raz?” Basil asked. “Your ships remain in pristine condition. If it is the condition of your crew that worries you, then know that I do not intend for your sailors to assault the enemy head on—they have endured enough hardship already. I realize that.

“All that I require of you is to take me to our enemies’ base of operations and to keep them from fleeing—to set up a blockade for me. The slaughter part I can manage on my own. I have other assets here in the Nine that I could employ to that end.”

Razazil dismissed the offer with the shake of his head. “With all due respect, Lord Doom, vengeance over what transpired here today is not yours to claim. The Sentinels and Hands are my enemies; my burdens. I will not involve your House in this matter any further than fate, it would seem, already has.”

“I have already been drawn into this conflict,” Basil pointed out. “My minions were attacked—I must retaliate, if for no other reason than to defend my honor. It would be in your own best interests, Admiral, to take the opportunity now, while I am still amicable to your suggestions.”

Razazil sighed. “And while I appreciate your offer, Lord Doom, I cannot accept it. You must understand that I *cannot* rely on the power of your House at this moment.”

“If you are concerned about appearances,” Basil suggested, “then we can keep my involvement on the down low. I have no desire to pin the notoriety for purging a few pirate bands to my name. It would bring me no glory. But I am willing to free up a spot on my schedule to help you remove your… problems. For old times sake.”

The old Sea Dragon took a deep breath. “I will not take on another debt!” Razazil declared. “I refuse your help. Now, let’s leave the matter well enough alone.”

Basil fell silent as he considered the Admiral’s reaction. The old dragon-kin pirate stubbornly stared down the dungeon keeper as he made known his determination to stand on his own.

Basil rubbed his forehead as he came to realize the intentions of opposite number. “So, we have finally arrived at the fork in the road. I take it that you will not seek to extend our contract?” he asked. “Is this the last time we will be seeing each other, Raz?”

“Yes,” Razazil replied. “Once our business here has been concluded, and all of my obligations to House Doom met, I will depart the Nine. I do not intend further bind the fate of my crew with that of your House. Words fail me when I think of how to thank you for all that you have done for us. But this is where our paths must diverge.”

Basil nodded. “Well, I cannot object to that,” he said. “It was always your prerogative to break our contract, if you so desired. I am just glad that you saw it through to the end before announcing your departure. But—”

Razazil anxiously awaited the dungeon keeper’s stipulation.

“While I wish you fair winds and calm seas, as you travel the astral plane,” Basil continued, “I cannot allow your enemies to escape from today’s events alive. We have to crush them first. And we need to do it today. Do you understand me, Raz? I cannot release you from the contract until the Sentinels and Hands have been dealt with.”

At first the dragon-kin pirate seemed a little confounded by the dungeon keeper’s motivation for pressing the issue. However, once had had wrapped his head around Basil’s most likely objective, the Admiral’s snout parted in a grin. “You think that this attack had something to do with your visit?” he concluded. “You think that this is about you…”

The dungeon keeper slowly nodded. “I cannot dismiss the possibility,” Basil said. “The timing of the attack might have been a simple coincidence or, just as likely, a last resort. By killing you they would have prevented our meeting—a most untimely demise, don’t you think—given that you only recently decide to deliver your report to me.

“That is why I need to get my hands on the pirates responsible for today’s events.” Basil concluded. “To find out if we truly are being watched; to learn of their true intentions.”

Scarlet joined in on the conversation. “We have already interrogated what few officers we could find among the captives, but none of them have so much as hinted at a connection. Still, they might not have known about it.”

“We need to get our hands on their captains,” Schwartz added. The Dark Ranger fondled the pummel of his dagger. “We will learn what they know.”

Razazil seemed reluctant to agree with the conclusions of his guests, but he could hardly dismiss them outright. Still, the very idea of it did not sit right with him. “It is not impossible that they were somehow aware of the work that I was doing,” he suggested, “But there was absolutely no way they could have known beforehand that you would be arriving here today in person. And even if they did know about it, they certainly would not have decided to attack me now.”

“So someone might have pushed them into making the move,” Basil suggested. “Just like you, I have a few powerful enemies out there, trying to mess with my House. It is not beyond the bounds of possibility, that an attempt was made. Sodden odds be damned.”

Razazil growled. “I still don’t see how this attack would have made any sense with the hindsight of your arrival. The Sentinels and Hands were caught completely off-guard by your intervention,” he pointed out. “If they had known that a dungeon keeper would be visiting me on their chosen day for the assault, they would have been at least prepared for it… No, they would not have chosen to launch it in the first place! What are we even discussing here? This is madness!”

The Sea Dragon shook his head, dismissing the notion. “Oblivion be damned, Basil! The Iron Sentinels are no fools! I cannot believe that they would have launched the attack if they had known about your imminent arrival. This does not make any sense. Nobody knew about our arrangements! I made sure that my expeditions appeared as casual raids. No one outside this cabin has any idea what I was looking for! Not even Drum knew what he was delivering to you!”

Basil leaned onto the desk with both hands. “What is it that you have for me, Raz?” he asked. “Why did you invite me here; what did you find?”

Razazil hesitated to answer. “I have found… something that might provide you with the directions you seek,” he mumbled. The Admiral crossed his hands, “but nothing that will ease your mind, I’m afraid.”

“I did not come here searching for a peace of mind,” Basil declared. “I don’t mean to sound rude, Raz, but I really need you to stop squirming and tell me everything you know. I understand your apprehension, I do, but I need you to focus right now.

“We had a deal. I would carry on sponsoring your crew and, in return, you would scour the Astral Sea in search of my father’s trail. Ten years on and I am still waiting on you to deliver on your end of the bargain.”

Razazil slowly nodded. Judging from his heavy motions their contract was indeed the issue weighing most heavily on his mind today. “I have found something that might shed some light on your father’s work,” he announced. Tellingly, the old admiral looked at Scarlet and Schwartz first, before gaging the reaction of Basil himself.

The dungeon keeper led him on. “A witness or…”

“A certain location,” Razazil answered. “One of his black sites, it would seem. A charnel house, more like it—at least that is all that remains.”

“And what did you find there?” Basil asked.

Razazil shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “I did not have it in me to scout the place.”

Before the dungeon keeper could question him further, the old admiral launched into a tirade, laying bare his concerns before his patron. “I am sorry, Basil, but I cannot continue on this fool’s errand any longer,” he said. “I have my crew to consider and I am no longer willing to risk their lives or my standing with the Guild over chasing your father’s shadow. I wanted to help you Basil, but there are lines even I won’t cross… Forgive me, if I sound like a coward, but I could not, in good conscience, step foot inside that place.”

A glint of malice appeared in Basil’s eyes. “Please, explain it to me, Admiral,” he said. “What exactly does the Guild have to do with any of this? Have you gotten cold feet? You swore to me that their verdict on the matter of my father’s legacy would not stop you. If it is skirting their tabula rasa protocol that you fear, then I have to ask: what has caused you to change your mind? I thought that we both agreed when we first entered into this contract that it would not be a problem.”

The old admiral held in his breath as he searched for the right answer. Basil’s ferocious gaze clashed with his own as the two monsters wrestled over the direction of the conversation.

“I’m sorry, Basil. I want you to forget about this matter,” Razazil whispered. “Heed my advice: give up the search for your father. What are you trying to prove by digging up the past? Who are you trying to impress?

“You are an accomplished dungeon keeper in your own right. You have the full power, wealth and confidence of House Doom behind you. There is no reason for you to throw it all away by risking the wrath of the Guild. And after what I have seen of his work, I can understand why they chose to erase your father from living memory. You should not seek a similar fate by exploring his terrible experiments.

“Instead, become the legacy that you were meant to be. Embrace it. Don’t risk dragging your House back into the sights of the Guild by searching for his trail. It won’t bring you any closer to finding a dead man—someone whose very name has been lost to memory and time. No one knows what happened to him and it’s probably for the best. Make peace with it, like I have. Stop this before it’s too late.”

The dungeon keeper ran his hand across his chin expressing interest. “So you invited me here to deliver a warning?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you like this before, Raz. Tell me, what has gotten you so scared that you would risk angering me? What did you find at his black site?”

The Admiral growled, expressing his disapproval of the dungeon keeper’s statement, but neither did he deny it. Something had gotten to him.

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“You are too much like your father,” Razazil said. “So much power, but such little regard for the lives of others… What makes you think that there is even the slightest possibility that whatever fate befell him it would not end up consuming you as well? Why would you seek the tools of your own demise?”

“Because I am not my father,” Basil answered.

Razazil shook his head. “You are just as cruel and calculating now as he was when we first met. I used to respect that about him, but now… now I see that it was not only the source of his incredible power, but also his ultimate weakness. He did not know when to quit.”

“I am not my father,” Basil reiterated calmly.

“Are you really that desperate to outgrow his shadow?” Razazil asked. “Do you think that you can pick up on his work where he left off?” Razazil asked. “He was the greatest dungeon keeper of all time, Basil! Are you really so delusional to think that you can surpass him in any way?”

“I do,” Basil answered, “And I will, even if it kills me.”

“Well, you can certainly try to die better than he did,” Razazil said. “If he did…

“I mean, look at you! You are parading around the Nine Hells accompanied by minions that on their own could purge this entire port of its residents. The clothes on your back are worth more than my ships! What more do you want, Basil? You’re already standing at the top of the universe! Don’t tell me that the shadow of his legacy can reach you up there!”

The Admiral nervously tapped his fingers against the table. Basil allowed the old dragon-kin pirate to think the matter through without interrupting him.

Having calmed down a bit, Razazil leaned forward in his seat. “Listen,” he whispered, “when you came to me all those years ago, asking to find the grave of you father, I was happy to help; it seemed like a sensible quest. In spite of our differences, we were friends, he and I. But not even in my worst nightmares could I have imagined the sights that I would discover when I began traveling down his trail. The information that you are looking for; the work that he was conducting in the years preceding his disappearance; the horrors I saw when I arrived to scout that location… I refuse to share that with you. It has to remain buried.”

The admiral slammed his hand against the desk. “Above all else, I don’t want you to go there!”

“If you were so vehement in your desire to stop me, then why did you even invite me here?” Basil asked. “Why share with me something that you didn’t think I should know?”

“Because my honor demands it,” Razazil answered. His eyes once more glanced at the expressions of the two minions standing behind Basil. “I will not lie to you. I will not hide from you what I have discovered, but I must first have my warning heard. I need you to understand that some secrets are not worth uncovering. Please, heed my words, Basil. Don’t ask me to reveal to you what I have found.”

“I refuse to do that,” Basil answered. “I must have my answers.”

“And I dread having to give them,” Razazil said. “Don’t you do it. I beg of you one last time, friend. Don’t ask.”

“I can’t live without understanding my past,” Basil said. “I can’t have a future to look forward to,” he gestured at his servants, “this house can’t have any future to strive towards if it does not understand its history, no matter how dark it might be. It does not matter if the tabula rasa protocol was applied to my father justly or not, it tore away the roots of this House and I need to find them once more, lest the tree will wither and die.”

Razazil dismissed the dungeon keeper’s point with the shake of his head. “You are betting the future of your House on exploring its past, but that is a foolish notion to hold onto,” he said. “You have your whole life ahead of you, Basil. Don’t spend it on chasing a ghost. Let him go. Forge something new instead.”

“I am the one being chased,” Basil replied. “I am hounded by my past every day, yet you tell me to discard it? If it is worth nothing, then, pray, tell me, why have you surrounded yourself with it?”

The dungeon keeper gestured at the cabin around them. “You seem fond of reveling in your past; of what you have accomplished in life. Meanwhile I am surrounded by the works of my father—a creator that I do not know or understand, yet one that I am expected to succeed. It is not the sentiment of it that bothers me so—I am no abandoned child, Raz—I am a tool, crafted by a great master and honed to a razors edge. I was made for a purpose and I need to know what that purpose was, because it as sure as the Nine was not to supplant him, as my servants have seen fit to tell me.

“Do you really think that my father—who or whatever he was—created me because he wanted me to usurp his seat and to replace him as the head of this House? Is that really the kind of demon you think he was? No, he had something else in mind for me, of that I am certain. Lesser or greater, it matters not so long as I understand it. I need to know why I was created.

“Look at what you have accomplished on your own,” the dungeon keeper said as he moved his hand around the room, pointing out the curiosities and trophies that the Admiral had collected over the years. “What is the point of keeping onto all of this stuff, then, if not to remind you of the past?” he asked. “Whenever your life seems to slow down, you come here,” he pointed to the floor beneath them, “you sit down at that desk,” he pressed his finger up against the lacquered wood, “and you think about your past accomplishments. Why? Because memories matter above all else—they define us. That is why the tabula rasa protocol holds so much power over dungeon keepers. We are what we do. And nothing matters if our accomplishments pass from all memory. It is as if we had never existed at all—the one and only thing that dungeon keepers fear. And so do you.”

“There is more to life than grand gestures,” Razazil suggested.

Basil scoffed. “It is said that all that matters to us is our legacy. Having lived my entire life without one of my own, I can vouch for that statement.”

“You are focusing you efforts on the wrong thing then,” Razazil suggested. “Let go of your father’s legacy and make one for yourself! What missing piece do you think you will find by digging up his grave? I don’t understand your obsession with him!”

Basil’s nostrils flared up as the dungeon keeper rose in his seat. “I am not searching for the grave of my father,” he declared, “I AM ALREADY LIVING IN IT!”

His sudden outburst was followed by a moment of deafening silence. Razazil felt beads of hot sweat running down his spine as he beheld a furious dungeon keeper looming large on the opposite side of his desk, his red fingers having crushed the edge into splinters.

Basil cracked his neck, wiped the wooden splinters from his fingers and sat down. He now continued in a lower voice. “Since the day I took the throne I have been surrounded by the accomplishments of others,” he explained. “I was taught that they were mere examples to learn from; something to imitate on my path to becoming a worthy ruler, but, in reality, they were to become the bars of my cage—forged by my servants and mentors with the best of intentions in mind, I am sure.

“Contrary to what they might have thought, I was never blind to their attempts at shaping me into something that only they could recognize. I knew that I was being brought up to rule over a House that still longed for its old master, but I reasoned that I could prove myself to them in time.” He tapped one finger to his head. “How foolish of me; they didn’t want another master to rule over them. They wanted to shape me into how they perceived my father to be. A strange obsession, I figured, but I complied.

“So they sought to forge me into a viable replacement—a placeholder; perhaps, even to be removed once the true master returned. After all, nobody knew for sure that the old one was dead and, for as long as there was no body to prove it, the House of Doom would remain in mourning.” He shrugged, “Still, I figured that I could take on that challenge.

“Yet, even as my abilities grew to outshine those of my peers, I could never shake off the feeling of failure; that I was not living up to the unfathomable accomplishments of my creator. I used to think that with time I could accomplish feats of equal value in the eyes of my minions, but I eventually came to recognize that they were incapable of fully embracing me. It was only then that I could begin to glimpse the depths of their duplicity and, in it, the solution to my problem.”

The dungeon keeper briefly glanced over his shoulder at Scarlet and Schwartz. His burning gaze rendered the two commanders pale as ghosts and stiff as boards.

“Do you know what it was that I realized?” Basil asked to everyone in the room. “There was nothing that I could do to overcome the legacy of my father for as long as it remained hidden from the universe by the Guild’s tabula rasa protocol. From day one I had been robbed of the opportunity to challenge his rule over my House. I could not defeat him; I could not overcome him and I could not succeed him. Yet here I am, Lord of House von Doom—the inheritor by default.

“My entire life I have complied with the visions and aspirations of others. The only thing that was truly ever my own was the desire to seek out the fate of my creator, for no one else could lay claim to it, because no one else had the courage to take on that challenge. It is the key to everything and without it the future of House von Doom remains locked away behind a veil of lies and a forest of split loyalties. It does not matter what I do or how much glory I bring to our name, for as long as the fate of my father remains unknown, this house will not be mine to rule.”

“Lord Doom,” Scarlet begun after a moment of silence had passed. “We—”

“Not now,” Basil interrupted her. “We will discuss your intentions at a later time. I trust you both with my life, but I will not be guided by your lacking ambitions.”

The dungeon keeper turned his furious gaze back upon the old Admiral. “You have something that I need,” he said. “I have told you why I need it. Now, please, share it with me. Give me the key to my cage. And, failing that, point me to where I can begin searching for it.”

Razazil looked to be once more grappling with his thoughts. The Admiral then sprung to his feet and walked over to the wall mounted safe. He withdrew from it a small adamantium lockbox and brought it over to the desk. He pulled out a key and unlocked it. The Admiral then turned it around and pushed it over to Basil’s side of the table.

“I have drawn up but one chart,” he explained. “I alone set foot on that world, so my crew remains ignorant of the horrors that lie in that place. Those few among them that suspect the nature of my service to House doom are all loyal to the bone. We will not stand in your way if you wish to travel there and we won’t direct anyone else after you. This secret shall remain with me till the day I die.”

Razazil placed his hand over his eyes. “I hope that you will forgive me for my decision to leave you on your own,” he said. “I cannot travel that road with you.”

Basil opened up the lockbox and found a map depicting a portion of the Astral Sea, etched upon a vellum page of the softest skin. A legend describing the dangers and obstacles that one would encounter along the way to the final destination was carefully written down on the other side.

“What will I find there?” Basil asked.

“A graveyard of hopes and dreams,” Razazil answered. “One of your father’s facilities—hidden beyond the boundaries of Guild space—a dead world upon which his experiments could take root in secret. Therein lays a dungeon where he kept his work veiled from the powers that be. More than that, I do not know. As I said, I turned away the moment I saw the dead bodies littering the path to the door leading beneath the mountain.”

When Basil removed the sea chart from the box he found a scrap of cloth lying beneath it. Upon the weathered rag was etched the symbol of his house: the demon’s fist, cast in silver, surrounded by a golden halo. Only this fist was holding a hammer.

“The engineer corps,” Scarlet whispered.

“I took it from a corpse lying on the path to the dungeon,” Razazil explained. “He was but one of many: engineers, mages, menial laborers—some showing no signs of violence while others seemed to have been torn apart and devoured, their bones crisscrossed with bite marks.

“Both monsters and kith lay there. Whatever drove them from the dungeon; it was bad enough that they chose to perish in the wasteland surrounding it. That is what you will find if you go there, Basil.”

“Then the path before me is set,” Basil declared.

Razazil lowered his head in defeat. “I understand,” he said. “Take good care of yourself.”

“I intend to,” Basil answered. “Once I have a suitably disguised my activities in the eyes of the Guild, I will travel to this ‘dead world’. I will not rush madly into the jaws of death, Raz. I seek answers, not power or glory. I simply need to know if my life has any meaning beyond what I was told to do.”

“And what about the Sentinels?” Razazil asked. “The Red Hands? Have you not changed your mind on that too?”

“I will make sure that there are no loose ends,” Basil explained. “Give me one ship; just a small crew to show me the way. I will take care of the rest.”

“I cannot afford to incur this debt,” Razazil insisted. “I must finally free myself to my bond to your House.”

The dungeon keeper made a swiping motion with his hand. “Then you are free,” Basil said. “Thank you for your service, Raz. I hope that we meet again one day, simply as friends.”

Basil rubbed his fingers against the soft vellum of the chart, taking in its texture. “By granting me this one boon, you have returned choice to my House. You have given me the key to my legacy and direction to follow. It is more than I could have asked for.”

“I still don’t feel right about this,” Razazil noted. He sighed. “But I will show you where to find the fortress of the Sentinels. The Red Hands are an entirely ship-bound crew, but they have been mooring near their allies for a while now. You will most likely find their ships in one place—easier to guard them like that if the crews have been disembarked.”

Razazil stood up and offered Basil his hand. The dungeon keeper gave the old Sea Dragon a firm handshake.

“It was my honor to serve you,” Razazil said.

“And it is mine to have such a loyal friend in you,” Basil answered. “Now, please, leave us alone for a moment. It is impolite to ask of the host to depart, I know, but I must discuss my plans with my servants before leaving this place.”

The old admiral complied and departed the cabin without saying another word. Schwartz and Scarlet both looked to Lord Doom with equal parts expectation and dread. It was to their great surprise then that their Master simply proceeded to give out his orders, as if nothing of importance had been discussed just now.

“We are setting sail for the Guild headquarters next,” he said. “I will meet with Zaharion first, before dealing with the pirates. I need you to call up my flagship and message home for reinforcements. We will need all of your servants to carry out the raid on the pirate haven. Have your forces arrive at the Guild headquarters via the official teleportariums and wait for us there.”

Lord Doom placed the chart back into the lockbox and hid it under his mantle. “We will not be disguising our movements in the Nine any longer. We will make a show of departing on this punitive expedition. I will play up my indignation at the attack on the Dragon’s Roost and pass off our retaliation to be as vain as possible. That should satisfy the curiosity of the Guild enforcers and my peers well enough.”

Scarlet and Schwartz remained silent.

Basil assessed the bitter expressions of his minions, knowing well what doubts now lurked behind them. “What?” Basil asked. “What do you expect me to tell you? That I am disappointed in you?

“I feel a thousand different ways about your actions, past and present, but what has never changed is this: you are my family. I will take care of you no matter what. And I know that you will do your best to take care of me, it’s just that you have already failed in that task in more ways than one. I won’t chastise you for your intentions, but I will remain bitter about you having them in the first place.”

Schwartz took a deep breath before attempting to speak, “If there was—” but Lord Doom cut him off.

Basil laid bare his intentions to his minions. “I expect you to follow me on this road to discovery not because I want to earn your respect, but because you need to finally earn mine. I have lived up to as much of my father’s legacy as I could. Now it is your turn to meet my standards.”