In the Dungeon

Dim lights flickering flashing of the Dungeon and the quiet steady lights of the Stable traded turns lighting the twelfth ledge as Daniel fought.

The long-limbed creatures did not stop reaching for Daniel, even when he sent them careening off the ledge. The featureless face was still pointed toward Daniel, as his current opponent was tossed over the side and fell down down down and then crash against the soggy beige carpet so far below. Like it did not care about its own terrible fate.

The other long-limbed creatures certainly did not care about the fate of their brethren. Three had fallen so far, yet none had reached out a metal-limbed hand to catch their falling companion.

The fourth one to crest the platform and shamble upon to reach Daniel reared back a raised fist toward him. Daniel juked to one side, almost not enough, but just barely enough to evade the lurching punch of the metal-limbed creature. The metal-limbed attacker had its feet caught in the chalky tiles and sank several inches into the ledge, and Daniel seized this moment to pull both its fist forward and up at the same instant snaking his own leg around and then behind the featureless creature. The push/pull dynamic was enough for the creature’s center of mass to shift, and while it was falling backward, Daniel pushed just enough for it to lose its footing and fall off the side of the platform.

That was four.

Only dozens and dozens more to go. Maybe a hundred.

Maybe Daniel would toss so many over the side that he would create a pillar all the way up. The new metal-limbed creatures would ascend via the column of the fallen instead of clawing up the wall.

Kenton’s voice broke Daniel’s implausible vision of a pyramid of featureless metal creatures. “Elswith! I got it! I’m coming!” Said the distant voice of the affable Kenton triumphantly.

Kenton. Of all people.

Perhaps he was a spy all along, Daniel wondered. Was he a spy, a double agent, or a triple agent?

Or was he something else? Some kind of assassin? Some kind of guard?

It must be that. What else would drive the seemingly affable Kenton?

Hopefully, Kenton had what he needed.

The fifth long-limbed creature took to the platform, with brethren beginning to pull themselves up.

In the Stable

Kenton did not fly, of course. But with confidence he’d never experienced he had practically glided down to the ninth platform, reclaimed his jacket, and reclaimed the key.

Gold. Nothing fancy like adamantine, palladium, mythril, chlorophyte, or orichalcum. Not even enchanted gold.

Just gold. Stronger, of course, hardly malleable. But it did not glow or sparkle or transform.

It was just a golden key. And every mapper had one.

Holding the gold key, Kenton put it around his neck, and tucked it under his shirt, crudely jamming it under his cravat. He tied his jacket around his waist (Could you imagine if he needed something else and he needed to go back down and get it again?) and looked up. “Elswith, I got it! I’m coming!” Kenton loudly proclaimed.

He got to see Elswith doing fancy martial arts stuff vaguely through the opaque wall separating them. Elswith had lost his Lordling powers, right? Looking at the kid fight was a little scary. Something a lowling should never be able to do, right?

Didn’t matter, though, because no matter how swift or sure the punk was, he’d get overwhelmed by the servitors soon. While one just was thrown off the side after Elswith did some complicated thing with his hands that ended with the metal-limbed creature’s head facing the wrong way and crashing down (Did Kenton just feel air whoosh by him in time with the creature falling in the Dungeon), two more arose to the platform at the same time.

Time to get up again!

Kenton eyed the 'Sarah Beth' fear thing, standing there looking at Elswith in the Dungeon with a blank face. Looked like it was also looking at a red thingy that was blurred out on the Dungeon Platform.

It would ignore him, right? He was an official Mapper again, with that key. The saying went Mappers never quite ever managed to retire from that duty until they left the Citadel. Law of Fae agreed with his thoughts, a warm glow of approval.

Kenton flexed his fist, took two firm steps, and leapt toward the platform. His chest hit the ledge of the tenth platform with hardly an impact. Fear of Failure. Apparently, Elswith had that same fear. Funny. Made sense, lots of expectations on Lordlings.

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Fear of failure. What a funny thing. A fear that expressed a worry Kenton dreaded almost every day of his life.

It was such a small worry. Always there. Always warning.

Kenton edged past the Dungeon Fear, just in case, and leapt for the higher further ledge. The eleventh ledge. His palms stung as he grabbed the smoothed edge, despite his renewed confidence, but he pulled himself up as quickly (yet still safely) as he could.

He looked up and saw Elswith again, dungeon side. The kid was flexible, that was sure. He didn’t even know legs could kick that high. How did the kid’s knees not break? Maybe they bent backward? Creepy. “I’m almost there kiddo.” He said. The Law of Fae even forgot to tell him that he should still be impartial.

He heard a sound.

The Fear of Failure had leapt, the white dress of Sarah Beth unwinding and spooling like living thread at the edges. And unlike Kenton, who had to pull himself up, it had landed soundly on the eleventh platform, wearing Sarah Beth's face, but not her demeanor.

As did the red thing on the Dungeon side. And, Kenton belatedly realized, that the platform on that side wasn’t there, only jagged glass at the edge of the wall.

Time to hurry. “I’m coming!” He yelled and moved to the last jump.

He had a sinking feeling things would be bad if that red thing reached the last ledge before him.

In the Dungeon

Daniel really needed to thank Matheus. Years of training in less effective means had been somewhat embarrassing. Of course, he had little choice to learn as a child, as his lack of elemental affinity left him reliant on his own body. Which fell short. But even after he had at last achieved proficiency with Elemental Lightning, Matheus still insisted he spend time in the Library.

Why train one’s body, when one can have Earth Affinity to add strength and power to a blow? Why practice forms again and again, when one can have Ice Affinity to lend grace and balance? Air Affinity for swift steps, Shadow Affinity for silence? Few Lordling spent the years working their bodies to be strong, to have a core that supports all movements, to have balance and body awareness to be able to walk across a trapped floor feeling the way forward around the traps, drills to move one’s feet in practiced but uncompromising steps, and softness of movement that came from being able to remove one’s presence out of the forefront of a situation.

It had taken years. Years. Years of losing to stronger opponents. Years of barely subverting and surviving assassination attempts. Years of shame. But somewhere down the road, Daniel realized his body had become strong. And that hadn’t been tied in his mantel of Heirling of the Red Sword.

It was that training now that led him to be able to defend and then defeat three strong attackers at once and yet not lose his footing.

It was a unique situation, of course. These metal-limbed creatures were simple. They never learned. They fell for the same attack again and again. A well-trained midling could clearly defeat Daniel. Three or four armed lowlings could probably gang up on him.

Daniel shifted his weight, dropping his base, and helped one of his attackers leap off the side of the platform. Daniel’s hands were briefly seized by another creature in front as yet another metal-limbed creature tried to reach behind Daniel. Kicks were dangerous, but…Daniel brought his knee in tight against his body, and thrust out, kicking the creature off himself. It rocked back, but it had enough room to recover and not fall off. With his leg already up, Daniel did a twist kick, basically a split while standing, booted foot angled to strike head height behind him to smack the metal-limbed creature behind him. Daniel regretted it, as he hadn’t stretched and his tight muscles screamed in protest.

But it was enough to reduce the number of opponents back to manageable, as the creature behind him buzzed and stumbled off the ledge.

“I’m almost there kiddo.” Kenton's voice said, sounding nearer than last time. Kiddo. Had the ‘leatherworker’ actually cared about Elswith before? They had some small interactions over the years. But nothing worth endangering oneself, surely.

What was the angle?

Daniel couldn’t focus any more attention on that question, as another metal-limbed creature arose on the platform.

The buzz bizz buzz of the glass tube lights and the steady gentle Stable lights alternated quickly with each other, the synthetic lights giving way to the wholesome glow of magical lighting. Daniel had begun this day feeling weak and afraid. And he was still weak. He would not win against his rivals, Parcel would have absolutely wiped the floor with him. But he was stronger than he realized.

Perhaps…even strong enough to win the Game. Kenton clearly was coming to open the door for him. Whatever price he wanted in exchange could be negotiated. Victory perhaps was not near, but it was at least close enough to grasp.

Finish with the Dungeon, and then finish the Stable, and be ready for the first assassination attempt to arrive before midnight. He had survived so many in the past, he was very good at identifying the danger. After he cleared the attempts (He predicted four), he would then enact his own revenge on key members to establish his place in the hierarchy of Servants.

He should have known better than to count his griffins before they hatched.

Something unexpected happened.

The greatest danger was the Entity. But there was a gulf between Daniel and the thing wearing Elswith’s face. If it was bound by Elswith’s ability, and by all accounts so far it did appear bound to the height of Elswith’s power, then it would have no way to leap all the way to the twelfth platform. If it could act beyond Elswith's power, then it didn’t really matter because Daniel would not survive such an encounter. But beyond the cloak becoming long tendrils that occasionally lashed out at Daniel, the Entity behaved within the bounds of Elswith.

The Entity that called itself the Fear of Self leapt, angling itself to land where the other platform had fallen. It was a good jump, strong. Elswith in the height of his power could leap like that. Not enough to cross from the tenth ledge to the twelfth, but still enough to easily clear the gulf between the tenth and the eleventh. But without the eleventh platform, the best it could do was try to grab the jagged glass jutting from the wall…

But the Entity did not attempt to clutch at the dangerous handle. It jumped forward, as though the eleventh platform was there.

And landed firmly on nothing.

“I’m coming!” Yelled Kenton.

Then there was a sound of a scream and an impact. It was a bad sound.

The Entity made a small sound of satisfaction, before glancing at Daniel at the corner of his eyes. “You are afraid of yourself, Dan. What would you do to something that threatened to interfere with the Game, I wonder.”

Daniel thought he would feel fear. Instead, he felt hot anger, the same anger that flared so long ago when the O’Tells servants had played with his food. White hot, the need to enact change, justice, or just violence. “Did you hurt Kenton?”

“You can’t see, can you?” The Entity standing on air said in Elswith’s voice, turning its head to look at the wall. “It’s a long way down, Dan. So far. Too far for something that can’t fly.”