“How,” [Sand Archmage] Agriskan begins as he paces back and forth behind the bars, “did you disable the enchantments?”

Bone sits in a cell, cell in a dungeon, dungeon under the palace. Stretched out, one foot on top of the other, on a thick down mattress, while he leans against the wall, head resting on his hands. He tugs the mattress a little higher up behind his back and relaxes, as though all his problems have been solved.

“I didn’t.”

Agriskan slams his hands on the 99% pure adamantite bars. The bars don't rattle or move. No one short of a Named would have any hope of bending the metal. Escape is nearly impossible.

“Dont fuck with me!” he snarls. “There were dozens of [Barrier] enchantments, multiple, sixth tier, automated counter spells, city-wide warning spells, and enough charged magical power to easily stop a hundred vermis in its tracks!” He breaths for a moment and regains his composure. “Tell me how you disabled the [Enchantments], and maybe I won’t leave you rotting in this cell for the rest of your life.”

Bone yawns. He lowers one leg and places the other over it. He scratches his bare ass.

“Look, Agris–I can call you Agris, right?”

“You insufferable–”

“Right, Agris,” Bone touches his chest over one of his hearts, “I’m merely a connoisseur of the more rarer arts in the world. A simple inspector, if you will. A man who explores the form and function of integrity, and the integrity of form and function.”

He points at the bars. “For example, these bars here that function as a door. Magnificent quality. I presume I would break the bones of my leg if I were to test them. Unfortunately, they are quite boring. I still give them a score of…” he touches his chin while deep in thought, “a six out of ten. Normally it would be lower, but adamantite bars of such purity and in such quantity are a rare thing.” He claps his hands together with a smile. “Still, that’s well above the average scores I give. You should be proud.”

Agriskans face goes from red to purple. He feels as though the man in front of him is playing the fool to play him for a fool. As one of the leading [Archmages] working under her majesty Cleopatra, such insults should not stand unpunished.

But, punishment must wait. The laws are strict. No punishment can be administered until a proper trial is conducted and the defendant found guilty. An annoying stipulation, but he does not dare flout the law.

Agriskan takes a deep breath. Anger simmers to annoyance, and he realizes that Bone may be trying to get a rise out of him, to goad him into disobeying the laws. A smart plan, and somewhat successful considering the anger he feels. He decides to take a more tactful path.

“Look, Mr. Bone. I’m sorry for all these questions and the imprisonment, but you’ve bypassed the palace's most stringent defenses created by dozens of the highest leveled [Grand Enchanters] our empire has available. This is a serious matter to the sovereignty of the Empire and I must figure out the problem as soon as possible. So please, work with me and I will do everything in my power to have you released.”

Bone raises an eyebrow at the change of pace. “You know, the good cop, bad cop bit only really works with two people. You’re supposed to have the bad cop use threats and yelling to get an answer or a reaction. Then, if you don't, you have the good cop, a completely different person, come in and act nice. The good cop will have a polite attitude, a soft voice, a nice body, maybe with some food, promises of freedom, friendship, and if you’re really lucky, sex.”

Bone shakes his head. “But you Agris, that was pathetic. You can't just change your personality like that. It doesn't work. It only puts the prisoner further on the defensive with a mindset of distrust.”

Agriskan rubs the sides of his head. “Will you please just answer my fucking question?”

Bone shrugs. “I did.”

The [Sand Archmage] groans. He shakes his head and turns to walk away, but stops when the dungeon door and a group of people enter. “[Sand Archmage] Agris, I’ve brought the man's companions,” the [Guard Captain] announces as he enters with a trailing group of four.

The four turn to the lone cell and find Bone sitting naked on a purple, velvet-topped, down mattress behind the bars. He waves at them with a smile.

Abernick chuckles. “Hey, Bone. On our way inside the palace, we passed by a charred stone door with foot size holes and a bunch of scorch marks. I’m guessing that was your work?”

Bone, to the annoyance of everyone else in the room, raises up two thumbs up. A chirp and gout of flame issues from his tophat, the sole piece of raiment on his body.

“So, what is the score?” Abernick follows up.

Bone licks his lips. He’d not actually thought about it yet, what with the arrest and all.

“Well, I would probably give it a four out of ten. I mean, sure, it's a big stone door, but the door itself isn't well made. It’s too heavy to move without magic and the stone isn't reinforced with anything. Rather poor construction, but I do still have to give some points to the craftsmanship. The art depicted on it was quite beautiful.”

He nods to himself. “It's probably actually a three, but I have a soft spot for big marble slabs, so I'll leave it as a four.”

Jessica and Fiona shake their heads while Nanuet just seems confused. She’s yet to experience Quasi’s recent obsession.

Agriskan clears his throat, grabbing everyone's attention. “Apologies for bothering you four, but I felt it imperative that you are all brought in for questioning about Mr. Bone’s crime.”

“Crime?” Jessica raises an eyebrow. “I don't see why him destroying a door requires questioning.”

“It is not about the door! That can be replaced. That he was able to bypass the defensive enchantments is the concern.”

“Sounds like your defenses are just weak.” Abernick comments to the chagrin of Agriskan.

“The enchantments on the door are built to protect the [Empress]! Even a dozen [Archmages] wouldn't have been able to chip the door, let alone break it as he did.”

Abernick snickers. “Sounds like your defenses are just weak and overestimated,” he responds.

The [Sand Archmage] turns to glare at Abernick. The [Grand Necromancer] smirks back.

Their glaring contest prematurely halts when they hear the sound of feet slapping on the marble floor. Darude, in his standard attire of only shorts, enters the dungeon.

“Master Darude,” Agriskan takes a knee alongside all of the [Guards] present in the room.

Darude looks around then waves his hand. “You may all rise,” he allows. They do.

The Bloody Sandstorm turns to Quasi. “I was informed that the palace was under attack and I rushed here as fast as possible.” He folds his arms across his bare chest. “What I find when I arrive is a broken door and news that it was done by a man with the moniker of Bone.”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Darude tilts his head. “So, Quasi Eludo, care to explain how destroying the palace entrance is not inherently harming my empire?”

“Harming your empire?” Quasi shakes his head. ”Nay, I was merely testing the structural integrity of your palace entrance, which was, pardon my french, a fucking shitshow.”

“Apologies, Master Darude,” Agriskan interrupts with a bow. “The prisoner has been refusing to divulge any information on how he was able to circumvent the Palace's defenses.”

Darude rolls his eyes. “Agriskan, you are dealing with a high level [Bard],” he tells the clueless [Mage]. “They are masters of conversation and are even more adept at avoiding answers than a [Politician]. If you don’t ask the right questions, you’ll never get the real answer,” he returns his attention to Quasi.

“Now Quasi, please explain to me why the defenses never activated when you struck the door?”

“Because the defenses didn’t consider me an enemy.”

Darude frowns. “Explain.”

Quasi sighs. His fun is over. “Well, the enchantments covering the palace and connecting to the gate are over engineered. They are impressive in their ability to recognize friend from foe, but that comes with several problems. For example, the defensive enchantments will activate whenever an attacker tries to destroy the door either physically or magically. Smart, useful, but naive. My intention was never to destroy the door. I was merely attempting to stress test it thoroughly with my foot.”

“That's preposterous!” Agriskan exclaims in surprise.

Darude chuckles and shakes his head. “I can see why Hermes favors you.” he looks at the bars, “I don't suppose you’ve also found a weakness in your current cage.”

“What? With the enchantment? Of course I did.”

“Prove it and I will wave all of your crimes.”

Quasi leans forward. “Add a meeting with Cleopatra and you’ve got a deal.”

“Done.”

Quasi stands up and stretches, still naked..

“Alright, so you’ve got reinforced, enchanted, prestressed concrete for the cell interior and Adamantite bars to serve as entrance. You’ve enchanted the walls to sense the movement of mana and to immediately release a powerful electric shock that, if I’m seeing this right, increases in potency the longer it’s active and the more mana the prisoner produces. In essence, a single high leveled individual cannot withstand the strength of the ambient mana around the whole city. They would normally be overwhelmed.”

Quasi steps forward and lays his hand on the lock. He covers his skin with mana. The room activates immediately and several electric arcs leap between Quasi and the walls. The current flows across his body and into the adamantium bars.

“Now, electrical manipulation is extremely rare and the classes that use electricity are almost nonexistent. Electricity is fairly esoteric, after all, and you are a pack of pre-industrial savages. So, the choice to use electricity as the attack is smart since so few mages know how to defend against it or even manipulate it.”

He raises the amount of mana he is releasing, which causes more arcs between him and the walls, which he funnels to the adamantine lock.

“Now, I understand the nature of electricity and thus I can not only defend against it, I can also direct it with barely any of my own mana. Now I could stand here and let the enchantment take its course, but I’m feeling peckish, so let’s speed this up a bit.”

He raises his mana again and the electricity gets stronger. The onlookers step back and squint into the glare of the Quasi klieg light.

“Now, weirdly enough, Adamantine is a poor conductor for electricity. The metal actually heats up instead of allowing the energy to pass, same with mana.”

The arcs grow brighter as more mana is funneled into the cell from the outside.

“Which comes to the next problem. Adamantine is extremely resilient, considered indestructible by most smiths… until you heat it to a high enough temperature.”

Quasi smiles as his mana spikes and the enchantments get to work. Lightning pours into Quasi which he lets flow through the lock. Eventually, to the surprise of everyone but Jessica, the metal starts to glow red, then yellow, then white… and then it melts. Quasi pushes, and the lock falls away. He walks out of his cage and the enchantments instantly fade from view. While the metal cools, Quasi stands before everyone, hands on his hips, smirking at the peanut gallery.

Still naked.

“So, when can I meet your [Empress]?”

Darude sighs and shakes his head while his mouth keeps twitching upwards.

__________________________________________

There are lots of ways to judge a monarch, but my second favorite, slotting in after sitting in their throne, is to check out their throne room. The throne room is, after all, a monarch’s showcase, their resume, if one allows. They are always gaudy, full of fun trinkets, intriguing statuary, and amazing art. Even so, I give a low whistle when I walk through the palace door. Many monarchs like to associate themselves with the divine, but very seldom do they build for themselves a cathedral.

As I walk inside the cathedral, I look up at the high, domed ceiling, a massive work of stained glass. The Egyption gods are depicted in their glory across the dome’s dyed crystals, each according to their hour of the day. A sculpture of a massive snake rests coiled atop the pillars supporting the dome, its head angled down to stare across the vaulted space at the door, its glittering eyes and gaping mouth admonitions of death.

I give myself a shake and look left and right. Glowing, glorious, golden tapestries dot the walls and beneath each one stands a [Royal Guard]. They don’t move and their helmets hide their faces, but I can’t help but feel all their eyes focussed on me.

Darude stops just inside the entrance.

“I will wait here. Go on alone,” he tells us.

I nod to him and start walking the distance to the raised throne where sits Cleopatra. I can’t help but marvel at the clever lighting. Throughout the room, all the light is reflected and refracted to bathe the throne in a brilliant glow. The colors, separated by the stained glass, recombine into the purest white. Nothing glitters and nothing shines that does not shine or glitter for her.

As I get close, I can make out her features. Dark tanned skin, perfectly smooth complexion, strong facial features, hazel green eyes, and one of the most perfect ruler postures I have ever seen. Easily a nine out of ten. She commands authority with her very posture as she watches me utterly impassively. The only thing her posture betrays is her judgment of my every action.

I smirk as I step into the belly of the beast and stop where the [Royal Guards] cross their halberds in my path. She judges me, but I too can judge back.

Our gazes finally meet. As I thought, she’s…

She’s…

Huh.

Cleopatra

Level 547 [Eternal Sand Empress]

Level 321 [Grand Runic-Archsmith]

Level 688 [Archlich]

Born Cleopatra Syra, she became queen at 10 years old when she was married into the Ptolemaic Dynasty. Since then, she has worn other names and guises, but always Cleopatra, the Last and Eternal Queen of the Sands. Through the favor of the gods she became the [Eternal Empress] of the Crimson Desert. Through the power of dark magics, she no longer fears the tests of time.

“Well, shit.” I curse aloud. “You’re fucking old.”

__________________________________________________________

[Inquisitor] Joseph’s stomach gurgles.

“I see you, and raise you two,” he says and adds his bid to the pot.

“You’re bluffing,” states [Knight Commander] Gavis.

Joseph looks the [Commander] in the eye. “As a clergyman of Odin, I never lie.”

[King] Bisque looks between the two men.

“As much as it pains me, I fold.”

The [King] sets his cards face down in front of him. His stomach grumbles ominously.

“If you will excuse me, gentlemen.”

Bisque leaves the table and retreats to the commode at the back of the cell. Gavis continues his staring match across the table with Joseph.

“I raise you two more,” Gavis meets Joseph’s bid and adds his own into the pot.

Joseph glances at his cards, then at the bowl in front of himself.

“All in.” He throws in everything he has left.

“Fine,” Gavis pushes his own bowl into the center of the table.

The men lay down their cards. A flush led by the one-eyed king stares down two pairs.

“Yes! Yes! Thank Odin!” Joseph yells.

[Commander] Gavis groans as he pulls the pot of glowing, green soup over. The three men look up when a Gejan guard bangs his spear on the bars of their cell.

“Quiet down in there!” He spots the pot of myrmeke soup. “And no wasting food. You won’t get any more till all that’s gone.”

With a grim look, the [Knight Commander] bravely takes a spoonful.