"Why... me?"
Valkner's fingers dug into the sands of his once-grand throne room; everything was turned to ash by that bitch and her lightning. It had raced over it, heating it with current and turning the scene into a volcanic waste in the climax of the battle. They hadn't just tarnished his pride.
His dungeon -- the epitome of power to the demonic leaders -- had been sullied beyond repair. He needed to reach the entrance, crawl his way out and begin planning his revenge. This wasn't the end for Valkner Gaustein. It would become a new beginning for both the demon and the mighty Gaustein family dungeon!
----------------------------------------
[https://i.imgur.com/USEpXo5.png]
"This is the... er... dungeon?"
Jigalta's expression mirrored the same one Yvette made two years ago: confused pity. His disguised elf immediate scowl was also the same. Valkner walked up and pointed his finger at the doorway.
"This is the famous dungeon known as Gaustein's Demise! Do you even know the stories around this place? The great Demon King's heir fell fighting the heroes here!"
Dead silence followed in the wake of Valkner's words; he instantly turned from scowl to snarl. "How do you not know about this dungeon!?"
Jigalta's pushed her butt and hips back and raised a finger to her chin in thought. The disguised look for his slime companion was actually pretty familiar to the solidified-version of her normal look. Proportionally speaking, her curvaceous butt and promiscuous frame didn't even get hindered at all.
The only things she changed was shrinking her hand-filling, jiggly watermelon-sized breasts and swapping her skin out for her pale skin. It was no wonder he hadn't been able to see much of it though thanks to her cloak. In one of his inn uniforms, her body might as well have been an advertisement for the inn.
The uniform for Gaustein's Demise Dungeoneering Inn actually looked a lot better on her than it did him. The white button-up shirt beneath a red vest carrying his inn's logo bulged around her and actually stretched the logo to seem bigger. By his domain, the matching red skirt barely even reached her knees. Her only inclusion had been a pair of black stockings that drew far more attention to her legs. All of it actually made him feel bad that she'd slipped into a pair of ankle boots.
Of course it was all an illusion but damn if he didn't wish he could peel it off her. They had spent the rest of yesterday fine-tuning it around her body. Apart from all of that though was the more important discussion now; Jigalta didn't seem entirely sure of her answer so Val raised a brow and tapped his forehead impatiently to force it out of her.
"I guess it's because he lost before anyone else, right? My mom told me that all the stories about him said it was one of the largest debacles in the entirety of the demon era's reign."
Val wanted to argue but the paleness and sinking feeling within his gut silenced him. Most of those who initially abandoned him in the wake of his embarrassment had cited the very same line. He had failed back then as he had trying to run the inn for the last two centuries.
Well, almost two centuries.
"Forget it." Val fell a bit farther into his despair but didn't have the heart to try and fight it. Much less the reason to potentially blow his cover. "The point is that this place has history! Adventurers come here from the various realms to train and brave its depths!"
Jigalta immediately haunched right back over. He'd heard that slimes could be airheads but this was all important to her. To work at his inn, one had to understand the value of its history as well as what it represented. While it had been the site of his untimely and unwarranted defeat, Jigalta had to realize the one thing that had drawn them here.
"Inexperienced adventurers need training grounds, right? Think of us as one of the most popular! Up until a few years ago, anyway. We had ravenous rats, insects and even slimes-"
Jigalta launched her hand up and beamed with pride. "Slimes like me?"
"... Er... sure." Valkner didn't have the heart to tell her they were actually loyal and competent warriors. "I opened the inn under the lawful rule of Duke Marnen. Humanity's Sword was a... benevolent lord in his youth. As half-elves have some demon blood in them -- albeit that of traitorous demons -- it seemed like a smart and long investment."
This time Jigalta wiggled her fingers rather than try to raise her hand further.
"Because demon species don't die from old age! So when half-bloods are born they can either be ruled beneficial or marked as demons, ensuring the survival of man!"
Val nodded his elf chin but internally raised a brow at the selective knowledge of Jigalta. All demons and humans learned at a young age what the importance of balance between the nations truly represented. It was why for the last few centuries the demons had been going to war -- the races of man were supposed to keep to their reaches but had overstepped. The Demon King saw the injustice of man and had risen up with other monsters after being enslaved, where he had been waging war for almost a thousand years.
It was only because of his father that demons been able to endure the onslaught of humanity. Yet under the failure of his prized heir, the entire empire crumbled. Demon races that were beneficial or who hadn't followed him -- such as the elves and dwarves -- now sat in power of their own land. All talks of peace failed but Valkner wondered what may have been.
Maybe he would have been a minor lord instead of a measly inn manager without any skills.
----------------------------------------
Valkner opened the door to his storage and pointed a finger at a space between some of the crates. There was an old mattress, sheets and a pillow.
"Since we can't afford to let you occupy one of our rooms, you're staying in here."
Jigalta weaseled her way between him and the doorframe via a quick flatten; the slime filled back out once past him. She didn't seem to mind the space but did look at some crates. Valkner's scowl set her straight before she even looked back with a grin.
"No eating the goods, right? This should be fine!" Jigalta excitedly piped, tipping back and thudding elegantly into her new resting place. "For someone without any customers, you sure are picky!"
Valkner may not have had customers but he did have some intelligence. Some of his skills had grown because of it -- yet now they were restrained behind the condition he had to learn from others. Even if he knew how to manage an army he didn't give benefits. If he were a traditional demon boss then it wouldn't be bad -- but as the heir to the Demon King, he had only the utmost necessity for stronger armies. He rubbed his head and the thoughts away however; there was one more important thing to cover. Val's hand dropped as fast as his mood, its finger aimed squarely at his foot.
"When we have guests, you are required to sleep in here and keep the door locked. I may not have destroyed you when I discovered you but others may not be so kind. Don't check anyone, don't do anything to raise suspicion. If you do... then you have to stay in the dungeon."
The somber tone did the trick. Jigalta's eyes filled with fear and she hastily rose up to her knees. "I understand! But I wanted to ask one thing about the dungeon! If I'm supposed to stay there if that happens, then does that mean you... have the dungeon's Master Seal?"
Half-slime or not, she didn't expect to see Valkner's lips curled from the question. The demon's half-elf persona boasted a sinister grin as he reached into his pocket. But it wasn't just the pocket of his disguise but his true one. The way his fingers wreathed the five-inch wide medallion let the energy resonate openly in a way that even she felt a few feet away. Every dungeon could manifest memories or echoes of its true dungeon that allowed countless adventurers to learn and battle; but it was only with the Master Seal one could face the true challenge. Long ago, the heroes had claimed the medallion and raided it.
Valkner had received it and now held all the power to his dungeon. But when he exposed it to Jigalta, there wasn't awe. Instead she seemed bewildered and aimed one of those damned fingers right at his prized possession.
[https://i.imgur.com/SpQD63Q.png]
Gaustein's Seal Medallion [Level 1]
4-person entry key to the dungeon lair of Gaustein. Fragmented.
"Why is it broken?"
Stolen story; please report.
"The correct term is de-leveled!" Valkner snapped, returning the medallion to his pocket. "It still has its entry slots so it still works. Whether or not its fragmented-"
Jigalta giggled. "Broken?"
"Fragmented... doesn't change that it still allows someone to access the dungeon. When the dungeon was conquered, its depths were considered likely to lure monsters of great power so the Duke made the decision to split the medallion to weaken its power. Since I was to stay and run inn as a form of payment, I was given the functional end."
The slime girl didn't snap off another remark but knowing her it was only a matter of time. Seals were normally kept by strong demons as a means to try and hide the way to access the true dungeons. Some demons had been successful at keeping their dungeons well-contained because of smart management. The only reason his had fallen into the hands of the heroes so quickly was because the demon carrying it had been intercepted enroute from his father. All of demonkind wouldn't have concocted that sort of misfortune. Some dungeons fell elegantly after centuries of thriving in a siege worthy of legend; his mother had been one such case when the elves cracked her fortress after eight centuries of searching.
Valkner failed only a year after his father granted him their ancestral dungeon.
Settled down, the elf guise abandoned scorn and turned around. The humble frontcounter of his inn being so silent -- with his dungeon visible through its windows -- hadn't encapsulated any sort of pride in all these years. Valkner's inn had stood longer than his reign lasted. Demon Prince Valkner ruined to the lowly visage of Valentine Steiner.
"Man the counter. I'm going out to check on my trees."
Jigalta rushed forward past him -- collapsing into a lumpy blob to slip between his legs -- pirouetting up to cut him off. She deliberately blocked his path, spread her arms wide and tilted her head toward the door.
"But we have customers coming right now! If you go now-"
Customers?
Val snapped around and rushed behind the counter instead. Jigalta glowed with pride but hastily shut the door to the storage before she joined him. Thankfully none of them had seen her body quirks.. but the party themselves were strange. And the perfect subjects for his first use of Identity Check.
Basic [Identity Check] skill used.
Result: Success
Customer #1: Human, Male
Customer #2: Half-Orc, ???
Level 1 - Cleric
Level 1 - Plate Knight
Compared to the information he received when using it on Jigalta, it was possible that critical success may elevate the level of the skill. But the inability to find out every detail didn't hinder him from sizing the pair up. Years of working in the inn had given him a decent eye for most of these newcomers.
The oddity was the second customer. The first customer had brown skin, black hair and wore the robes of the local order. With a gnarled staff and a Good Man's Sun religious book, the class assumption was spot on and his gender couldn't be missed. The followers of the Good Man and his sunlight were all exclusively men.
Contrast to him was the second customer's remarkably concealing attire. A full helm, iron cuirass with faulds, a long sleeved gambeson, leather pants and shin-high greaved boots. Most plate knights weren't very apparent in gender or race -- particularly once they began to armor up -- but this one went a step further. Their frame seemed lean by the shape of the armor yet their hips weren't particularly flared. Pointed grooves on the side of their head indicated they had pointed ears but being so short meant that they could only be a greenskin. While the cleric was between five and six feet tall, the half-orc was easily over six. Among the many half-bloods, the half-orc was the only greenskin type that made sense. Perhaps the normal output of the skill was based not only on its level but on his perceptions.
"We've come to use your dungeon services." The cleric's voice carried smoothly, setting down a single grinner. "I had heard your charge five gold a day for rooms. My companion and I will require a double room; will this cover it?"
Valkner had customers! For once both the real him and the elf's smiles aligned. He swiped the coin and swapped it for one of his two room keys. "Of course! Your room will be in the back on the left! But if you're here for the dungeon services then maybe I could convince you to participate in the real Gaustein's Demise dungeon experience!"
Yet his excitement ended in all but a moment as the cleric raised his hand.
"We have no need for running that weak dungeon. We're here simply to study."
Jigalta looked at her boss, watched his ears fall and his voice crack. "Ah... yes... w-well then-"
And then Jigalta pushed her arms around her chest and leaned into their view.
"What if we allowed you to run the dungeon for free? You and your companion could study it surely! A famous dungeon surely still has secrets, right?"
Valkner looked at Jigalta as she straightened her back and scooted closer. The half-slime hip-bumped him over into his chair, quickly leaning over and beaming her now signature grin at him. Whether she saw the man as food, a mark or just wanted to help Val wasn't clear. All that the Demon Prince saw was that the cleric's eyes drifted down to the bulge of her chest and then back to her face.
"Manager Valentine didn't mention that we could go with you. Surely that would be appealing to you, right?"
Lechery among religious orders; humanity hadn't yet learned that it was unavoidable. The succubi and many other lower demon breeds embraced it and wouldn't fall for simple seduction. Valkner appraised Jigalta as crafty like all slimes -- willing to lie and deceive to get her next meal. But going into the dungeon with them? It certainly posed an interesting potential for learning skills. Although the cleric seemed eager, the armored giant averted their gaze toward the door and the dungeon. Valkner understood doubt well enough from more than two centuries of doubting himself to see it.
"Very well." All eyes fell on the cleric as he cleared his throat. "We will take the day to rest and prepare yet by tomorrow venture into the true dungeon."
Not only had Valkner acquired a small pay but would be venturing into his dungeon with others. If Jigalta was up to something, perhaps it would pay off in netting them equipment to sell. But he didn't have any capacity to fight... so all he could do was hope that he could worm out the chance to learn a skill. Whether it be healing or crafting it had worth. The only concern for either of the pair of inn staff was the second customer. If the cleric was weak, it didn't mean they would be. Valentine would have to find the perfect moment to find out what to do with them.
----------------------------------------
Valkner locked the door to his bedroom and let his disguise fall away. Only two customers in the entire day and both had retired to a single room. The half-orc hadn't come back out but they had made a small bit of profit from the cleric buying some cheap booze and food. Lots of bread specifically. In total, he had earned another forty gold. Selling bread and some booze had at least set him closer to being in the black come next week's shipment. Jigalta wouldn't be working for pay but if she took the odd duo out then there'd be no more money to milk outside of their equipment. Yvette might buy it but it was a toss-up.
The demon fell onto his bed, wrapped his tail around his waist and sprawled out onto his bed. The rustling branches of his trees resonated inside him too accurately. Was Jigalta the start of a new chance to make his inn prosper or the uncontrollable catalyst that drove him into the ground? Sleeping was impossible with his mind racing. His disguise flashed back on and Valkner shambled his way to the door. Sleeping in short bursts was unusual for his kind but after two centuries one got used to conforming to mankind. A quick patrol of the inn and maybe he could go check on his trees...
His inn's hallway was cast in the glow of the moonlight thanks to its design. It was probably the sole thing that the carpenters did well. Navigating its halls was easily done even by guests. Jigalta was locked in tight with the storage still; that was good for his sanity. The demon heard an unusual noise coming from their guest's room though. The sound of flesh being struck however was one that Valkner knew well. Could his customers actually be freaks? Val walked as quietly as he could up to the doorway. It was open... so he brushed it ever so gently and peeked in.
The cleric smacked their staff across the pale green-yellow back of the kneeling, shirtless half-orc. A second smack leaves a purple bruise on their beat-up back while a third makes them clench their fists. It wasn't uncommon for demons and their spawn to suffer under the hands of humans but he had to admit this was unusual. From his spot he couldn't see the actual chest of the victim -- purely for gender identification reasons! Their helmet is even still on, wrapped tightly around their bare neck.
"When we go in there you'd be wise to keep me safe!" The cleric hissed through his teeth, shoving his staff's head into the half-orc's lower back. "You so much as think of not aiding me and I'll snap my fingers and end you!"
Another strike shakes the knight's body and turned a bruise into a cut. Valkner had to appreciate their endurance; if he took hits like that with his current stats it would have cut or left bad bruises in no time. All greenskins regardless of human blood were naturally tougher than most races at their weakest. Few skills raised stats which made them invaluable to any group. Apart from elves and dwarves, greenskin demons were the third most common ones found in human lands; they were the most populous enslaved group of demons in the entire world.
Nefarious uses of binding curses made planning any sort of emancipation for them next to impossible. The cleric relented and even turned his back to assert his confidence in the slavery seal. Servitude between demons was done with ties to souls but humanity used magic; demons naturally grew to work together without threats or uses of pain. Comparing their kind made instances like this cast Valkner in a good light. Val left the door alone and retreated a few steps, settling himself before he revolved to make his way back to his room. He needed to rest, to think of a plan.
Tomorrow, they would venture into his dungeon and would need to figure out the best way to handle everything. Jigalta had come to try and feed on him so she wanted to eat. Feeding her the cleric at this point was a no-brainer -- particularly since he couldn't stand the idea of him mistreating valuable goods -- but he also needed to acquire skills. The only way for him to obtain skills meant getting the cleric to trust him though. With the current state of the dungeon combat couldn't build bonds. Valkner retired to his bedroom but not for sleep. It was time to plot. For the first time in years, Valkner at least felt some excitement embering and being stoked within him.
Tomorrow would be the beginning of mankind's end! The return of the Demon Prince heralded on by the hopeful demise of the cleric and rescue of his first minion. He didn't count Jigalta because without any brains, she wasn't nearly as dependable as even a mere Slime Footman from his hayday. But all types of demons and even the lowest blooded had worth. If she could seduce men into becoming fodder then she had a place in his ranks.
One inn-running step at a time, he was going to crawl his way out of debt and disgrace until only good fortune and ultimate power lay before him!