The cultists were wealthier than Aven’R expected. They had stores of weapons — at least two of them magical.
Siege easily found the room that served as their vault. The hidden room was easily uncovered by his dwarven knack for caves and all things underground.
The room didn’t have piles of gold lying about — but it did house several chests that held the gold inside. There were more than a dozen chests — each one filled with 10,000-12,000 gold pieces.
They hit it big.
Even if the Scourge asked for a separate portion for the snail — which they would gladly give — each portion would still be worth more than 20,000 gold each.
The job wasn’t even dangerous — not until Malice.
The cultist base’s fortifications seemed minimal when facing the Scourge and his pet snail — but she knew the outcome would have been different if it was Bountiful’s army leading the charge.
The snakes — how could she belittle the snakes. It took the combined effort of her party — and a bit of luck — to take one down. Later, she would find out it was one of the smaller ones, and that there were ones twice its size.
She smirked. The cultists would never have guessed their own snakes would be sent down the cave to hunt them down like rats.
Malice was a revelation. She felt like a child trying to bring down a giant — and the Scourge probably fared no better.
Sure, he came out of the cave instead of being dragged by the snail — but he had to call in the Blackstaff to deal with Malice.
The Blackstaff was the Scourge’s father.
Her party thought that was the biggest revelation — forgetting how Sebas sorted the cultist.
The butler could read their sins!
A third of the cultists didn’t know better and merely joined out of curiosity or peer pressure — another strange term coined by the butler.
The rest did so purposefully, even committing atrocities to prove their loyalty to the cult. These ones the butler handed to the Scourge — who promptly opened a gate that swallowed them all.
She reminded herself not to get into contact with the butler. His knack may be one of reading minds — and she wanted to maintain a bit of her privacy, even if she had nothing big to hide. Her thoughts were her thoughts, and it seemed like a violation for someone to be privy to them without her consent.
“Twelve chests filled with gold, two smaller chests filled with gems, four dozen spell scrolls that are probably dangerous,” Dallarath smirked, “and enough armor and weapons for a small army.”
“The snail gets a portion,” Av demanded.
“Indeed,” Dal agreed. “Shelby dug us all from the cave, though you sisters seemed to have it worse than me and the dwarf.”
She remembered Gwin’s shield holding back the collapsing earth. The three of them shared knowing looks — feeling the end was inevitable.
“The snail gets a portion,” she insisted.
“There’s also this.” Dal shows her a small ornate chest. “Your sister says it’s ensorcelled — and not by the cultists.”
“They were probably trying to break whatever enchantment was protecting it,” Gwin waved as she approached them.
Her sister was better at enchantments than potions — but the chest didn’t seem to interest her.
“Whatever is in that chest is too well-protected for the likes of me,” Gwin confessed, “or any other mage in Bountiful.”
“Jeremy could probably open it,” Av shrugged.
“Yes, he probably could,” Gwin agreed. “Even if he couldn’t — there’s his father.”
“I see the wagon!” Siege shouted, pointing to the east.
They had to spend a night on the base — and Aven’R was glad they could return to the city.
They even managed to dismantle the four remaining snakes for parts, while waiting for the wagon. At least they didn’t resort to counting coins.
The wagon was huge — large enough to carry all of the loot and strong enough to make it back to the city. Four horses pulled the wagon — though they looked more like warhorses than draft animals.
The driver waved at them. Alongside the wagon, Aven’r could see the three snails they rode on, serving as some kind of escort.
“Nice haul!” Lucas stopped the wagon and jumped down, seemingly eager to pack things up and go home. “So where’s the Scourge’s cut?”
Dallarath gestured at three chests of gold, two smaller chests of gems, two sets of dismantled snail parts, two dozen scrolls, and the magically sealed chest.
“Thanks,” Lucas smiled as he grabbed two chests — one in each hand.
“They’re quite he—“ Dal’s words got stuck on his throat as the boy casually lifted the two chests that weighed almost as much as two men.
Aven’R watched the boy pack everything into a corner of the wagon — leaving enough space for the rest of the loot. She wondered if the boy would be helping them as well.
“Well, I’ll be going,” Lucas waved as he boarded the wagon.
“Wait — what about us?” Av asked, outraged that they would be left alone at the base.
“Didn’t you make prior arrangements for transporting your goods?”
“We thought… the wagon...” she stammered helplessly.
“Sebas said I could take in goods from other travelers I meet on the road,” Lucas forced a smile. “But he said I should charge them the cost of a tenth of their goods.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Av turned towards her party — seeing the shocked looks on their faces. Siege was actually laughing — saying something about how this was exactly what Sebas would do.
“There are nine remaining chests of gold — your lot can have one,” Dal gave in. “Just help us load the rest.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
***
Sebas was glad the talk was finally finished. He wondered what could disappoint Lord Elswind to such a degree — it turned out to be something non-sensical, as he should have expected from father and son.
At first, he thought it had something to do with Evergreen. Lord Elswind was hesitant to leave the citadel — but that all changed when he told him of his son and Malice.
The Blackstaff flew into the sky — sweeping across the battlefield and raining fire on the ranks of the enemy, as if to thin their numbers while he was gone. He told the commanders he would be back in three or four days — and he would have reinforcements.
Did he mean Master Jeremy?
Sure, the young lord was powerful — but he wasn’t really suited for the battlefield. His abilities didn’t differentiate friends from foes — and taking to the field alone was too risky.
Sebas frowned. He would have to air his disagreement on the matter — even if it was to his master’s father.
The attack on the cult base only proved his worries. His master wasn’t able to defeat Malice on his own, even if he managed to capture every single cultist — and alive, at that.
He could still taste the sins of the cultists — even relishing their acts of depravity and murder. The ability took a toll on the butler, immersing him in thoughts and emotions that weren’t his — threatening to corrupt his very being.
Sebas shook his head.
That was how his master felt like every single moment — and he still maintained a sunny disposition. Of course, some may argue that his master was clearly unhinged — but Sebas knew he was definitely not evil.
He didn’t shy away from killing — though he was more likely to send his enemies directly to a hell of his choosing rather than end them himself.
As far as he knew, his master hasn’t taken a human life — or any of the goodly races — at least not directly.
Sebas wondered if sending people to hell was any better than killing them. Not all hells were equal after all — and most souls would perceive an eternity of suffering before getting sent back into the cycle of reincarnation.
He smirked at the thought. Hell and reincarnation were concepts his would-be possessor would laugh at in his previous life — but here he was opening gates and weaving spells.
He could probably be one of the better mages in this world if he applied his otherworldly knowledge — but that would attract too much attention. He was happy with his role away from the limelight.
The Corner Shop’s™ door opened to reveal a smiling Mineva. Construction for new homes for her kids was underway, but the task would be a week or two from finishing.
“The kids are doing great,” she beamed. “The farmers’ boys are quite friendly — even helping out with construction chores.”
“Yes, they are quite handy,” Sebas smiled back. “I take it you have word on the city and their takeover of your operations.”
“The City Lord — er Duke Cedric was very kind,” she answered. “I think the survivors are in good hands.”
“That’s good. Duke Cedric is one of the good ones.”
“Indeed.”
The door slammed open admitting an eager young boy.
“The snails are back!”
Sebas paused. If the snails were back, the wagon wouldn’t be far along.
He bade his goodbyes to Min — he had to prepare to meet the adventurers to divvy up the loot and get them to pay.
***
“So how much gold did we get?”
“Around 34,000 gold pieces, two small chests of gems, two dozen spell scrolls, and the ensorcelled chest I gave you earlier,” Sebas listed.
“Ah, that useless thing?” Jeremy frowned. “Why lock a chest so tightly only for an oil lamp?”
Sebas seemed to light up at the mention of an oil lamp. Did his butler collect oddities?
“Was there something special about the lamp? Did something come out when you rubbed it?”
“Oh that,” Jeremy shrugged. “There was a fire elemental inside. It promised to grant me three wishes.”
“And?”
“What did you expect?” Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I did what I had to do.”
“Master Jeremy, what did you wish for?” Sebas eagerly asked.
“Wished for? I sent the damned thing to hell.”
Jeremy watched as Sebas seemed to slump.
“I’m telling you, Sebas,” he started. “I know a demon’s contract when I see or hear one. This fire elemental, doling out wishes, seemed pretty suspicious to me.”
“What about the elemental?”
“Oh. Torn limb from limb by ice demons on Balt’Roug, hmmm,” Jeremy paused. “That should be hell 202-A”
He saw Sebas sinking even further.
“Don’t worry, I saved the lamp. I even filled it with oil. Works quite well, actually.”
He handed the lamp to his distraught butler, waiting for his face to light up. It didn’t.
“Forget that elemental,” he urged. “What more can we wish for? We have gold, father’s here — everything’s looking up.”
***
Malice was a slime floating in water. There was no way to cast magic, no way to affect his surroundings — not even a way to kill himself and restart the process of finding a new body.
He just floated peacefully on the water. Alone.
This was some sort of prison — he knew it. The Blackstaff could only hold him for two weeks. After that, protocols of the inner circle would transfer his soul to a new vessel.
That should have been days ago. Unless this form perceived time at a faster pace, he should have already awoken in a new body.
Would the Blackstaff do something so vile to his enemies?
Well, maybe to him. For he was the Blackstaff’s biggest enemy. They clashed seven times, and he was inching his way to victory with each battle.
The Blackstaff had a single life to lose — he was practically immortal. Victory would undoubtedly be his eventually — unavoidably.
Malice could wait a few more days to start his revenge. Now he knew the Scourge was the Blackstaff’s son — a vulnerability he could exploit, or flay alive.
He would have his revenge.
***
The demon lord Karyanil watched the little slime floating in the world inside the little gem in his hands. The other demon lords offered knowledge and riches to the wizard — he merely offered his silence and won the prize.
It was strange to watch the slime unravel. He knew it was a man — a powerful one at that. One who was not limited by the usual constraints that bound his kind, one more akin to the residents of his plane.
He was tempted to help him — free him and unleash him once more on the world.
It was a fleeting thing.
Why would he pass up a chance to relish the suffering of the strong, especially if it lasted two hundred years?
Oh, he would watch this soul unravel into a spiral of madness and hopelessness until the very end.
Two weeks?
There were places in his domain where time flowed at a snail’s pace. He could probably extend his viewing pleasures to four.