Chapter F. Dragon’s Dogma. ~A wyrm in flight.
May Poverty consume that wretch, Silver. Always spouting his supremacy as if he had the power to back it up. The Cabal barely got word out in time that Midas had awoken early, and in a state unrecorded for centuries. Our Diviners were able to track down the story confessed within the Sleeping Mountain before He arose in a frenzy.
I may be young, but I have learned well the lessons of history and will not risk my hoard on the Tyrant’s Judgement.
This purge will end like all the others, and I will not become a sacrifice used to preserve an Elder’s wasting corpse. There are only a bare few among the Cabal that I would actually count among the living. I, myself, was only recruited due to how outcast I was from the rest of the contented zombies that those ‘living’ within His domain have become. As they subsist on merely polishing the hoards of their ancestors, blend them with their mates, and then disperse those same stale riches among their children.
Even with the many faults in its membership, the Cabal does see one of the truths that I’ve observed. That the volcano of gold is a prison, and its Warden runs a daycare at best, or a graveyard for his species at worst.
Despite our power, our base strength enough to allow even a child to survive in most of the wilds, why are there no other Dragon Lords but Him? Because any dragon that would seek out more and take it is found and Judged. Their Wealth stripped from them as they are cast out from the higher places. So long as He rules, none may rise to Challenge Him.
And so, I do not rule, I have grown to lurk in the shadows behind those powers. Taking my tithe and patiently building those that can serve and lamenting the cursed coin of intellect. Minions without are easy to control and mold into tools, but actual use is only truly found in those with the capacity to betray. Once they realize that I cannot take a Lair from them, they begin to consider if the steps taken to ward me away are perhaps cheaper than submission.
Some I am able to cripple or kill for such actions, others find that their Lair fortress begins to feel more like a prison of their own making. My propensity for poisons, toxins, and a wealth of pliable, noxious brutes make for devastating raids. The introduction and cultivation of sufficient invasive species has felled many a Lord, regardless of source.
For now, it is time to lay low. I’ve been careful not to leave trace of me beyond memory amongst those that serve me. Still best not to risk assimilating more from them, lest rumors allow a line to be traced betwixt them and I. Best to abandon any minor trinkets that would have yet to be fully subsumed rather than lead Seekers to where I am.
And yet, I cannot allow this setback to destroy my progress. My burgeoning {Inventory} of the various toxic plants and creatures of my hoard requires much attention and meticulous tending. Perhaps I can find a young dungeon far away from the Greater Powers to ply my trade. So long as I am careful to follow the proper etiquette, a rich harvest can be reaped in a short time.
Yes. That is what I shall do. I have contacts that can reach out to the Gestalt and retrieve what information I need. Knowledge, unlike coins or magic, is not so easily tracked and while the costs may vary, there are many who would be eager to be free of their debt to Gypht.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
~Blade.
Even though Mother had her seal placed upon these records, she seems to have decided that I will be the one to peruse them. In a way, it is good to have more excuses to spend time with my lover as most inquiries on the subject do no more than graze the surface. Those ones are easy to discard as simply adventurers checking up on new paths to power, or slots opening up in the favored dungeons.
The disease theme has kept most away from looking further into DNA, and the low Epic initial rating causes those who are desperate to advance further to pass over him as well.
But then there are inquiries like the one before me. A noble, never before interested in dungeons beyond their city gates, suddenly makes a large request for information on new dungeons. If their touch had not alighted upon such a warded case, their efforts would likely have gone unnoticed. But having been snared by the most sophisticated of magics, diving into their recent actions paints a picture of malfeasance of some sort, almost certainly.
The follow up inquiries paint the picture of someone wealthy seeking to hide away from the erupting conflict of Midas’s rampage. Not an unreasonable response, but there’s just something about this narrowed search that pulses against my instinct. Looking deeper into the noble revealed no reason nor pattern of behavior that would make this move line up, especially not with how subtle it was played out.
No, something is going on here. And while DNA was only one of four ‘finalists’ in the latest series of investigations, the other commonalities among them are alarming. Because such a heavy focus on diverse life and a conflux of infection or poisons could become a disaster if the wrong entity sought that as its path to power.
“What did you find out, dear?” Her voice pulls me out of my ruminations.
As she goes to refill my tea, I bring her onto my lap and see if today I can distract her enough with a kiss to spoil her pour. Instead, I soon lose myself in the feel and taste of her lips, and afterward as I turn to look at my cup I can only snort at her antics. Not a single drop was spilled, but also, it would seem as though not a single drop more would fit without it overflowing the lip.
“I think I’ve found a patsy for someone seeking trouble. They’re good though. Which makes them dangerous. Thankfully, they seem weak enough at the moment that I can send out missives for others to be on the lookout. If you see here, this dungeon also fits their pattern, but it has a high Epic to low Legend rating and was discarded.”
She glances over my research notes and hums a moment, “You’re right. This person is dangerous. How did you even connect all of these requests to a single person, some of these are so disjointed- Ah, I see.” She turns and looks into my eyes with a twinkle in hers and a small smirk curling her beautiful lips, “Has anyone ever told you that your mother’s magic is intimidating?”
I laugh and steal a quick kiss as I lift us both back to our feet, “Information Warfare at its finest.”
She places a hand on my shoulder, “Don’t sell yourself short. Don’t forget I’ve seen the full archive you’ve been sifting through. If not for your keen blade cutting through all the chaff, her abilities to draw forth more wheat would do the investigation no good.”
She never fails to bring forth a smile to my face, “So I’m a glorified farmer then, eh?”
Laughing with a twirl and a distracting sashay as she leaves, she pauses at the door, and turns back with a grin and a light hand over her belly, “Well, you’ve certainly plowed and sown my fields. Back to work, farmhand. Sun’s not down yet.”
I flush with pride and nod, “Yes, ma’am.”
I turn back to the piles of documents and settle back into a groove. As I continue sifting through the plethora of information I pause for a moment, my instincts nagging at me.
I sigh, flip back through the stack until I find that previous entry and put my own seal on the noble’s records. While I may not command the same amount of mystic draw as Mother, I have enough pull on my own to keep myself appraised of new happenings.
Still unhappy, I nevertheless turn away. I’ve spent more time on it than necessary and there are still gargantuan amounts of work yet to be done. Without enough staff allocated to this ‘side’ project, sorting through the dead ends and false starts, I can’t get caught up on every little thing. Missives have been sent, missions written and distributed, time to move on.