When we’d approached the portal we were knives out and ready for a fight. We had several strategies mapped out depending on what we found on the other side, ranging from a full dump of our most aggressive skills to a heroic version of run the fuck away.
We appeared in a room of rough-hewn stone and mortar, the ceiling supported by pillars ascending into archways. About 20 feet in front of us was a 5-person team of level 15 Littan Delvers, full gold. Behind them was a reinforced dark-iron door and both it and the walls screamed with magic at my Mystical senses. I only had a split second to take in the weaves and make an educated guess as to what they did, but reinforcement was a safe bet, possibly some magic suppression as well. Dark iron absorbed mana, so the chamber being designed for containment wasn’t a stretch.
Portaling into a trap designed for our capture was number 2 on our list of potential outcomes, and I’d already begun mana shaping the Pocket Closet entrance, even as I appraised the team of Littans inside the chamber with us. If that failed, we had the Get Out of Cage Free card that could theoretically zip us away. Unless one of these folks was secretly a sticky-fingered avatar, I assumed the item would be more effective than it had been the last time I’d tried to use it.
The portal brought us in one at a time, but we’d coordinated to touch its surface rapidly and in a specific order. From the time I showed up as the team’s point man to when Etja came through last, it was less than a second. That was more than enough time for a level 15 Delver to respond, but the crew across from us made no move to attack.
In fact, the Littans looked very ill-prepared for a fight.
We were heavily armed and armored, with buffs up, auras blasting, potions running through our veins, and a psychic link already established through Grotto. The Littans, on the other hand, looked like they were about to attend a formal dinner. They wore what appeared to be full dress uniforms, perfectly pressed, immaculately fitted, with a few well-polished medals and boots so clean they looked more likely to run an NA meeting than a mile.
I had to imagine that we looked like absolute shit in comparison. We’d literally been using a magic cleaning marble in place of baths for months, and the only pieces of our gear that had gotten any real maintenance were the things that could miraculously repair themselves.
I waited a beat as I mulled over whether to send the mental command to make a full retreat. By the time everyone had appeared and the Littan in front had cleared her throat, the entrance to the Closet was already opening.
The woman’s dark eyes flicked to the portal and her whiskers twitched, but she stilled her reaction once she realized it wasn’t an attack.
“Fortune’s Folly,” she said, giving us a formal bow. “I am Captain Pio of Connas. It is my pleasure to welcome you back from what has been, so far as we can tell, the longest Delve ever recorded.”
As she spoke, I focused my Sight on the Littan group, trying to see if they had any equipment hidden by illusions or invisibility. I was done by the time she finished, but I hadn’t found anything nefarious.
“Thanks,” I said. “As I’m sure you can understand, we’re eager to return home.”
Captain Pio glanced at the portal again and gave me a shallow nod.
“I can only imagine,” she said. “My longest Delve was only 3 days, and I could not wait to sleep in my own bed again afterward.” She held out a hand and one of the Littans behind her handed her two envelopes. She held up the first envelope as if to show it was as ordinary as it appeared. “Duchess Ruiz and General Connatis would like to extend an invitation to your party. Much has changed since you left, and it is thought that a meeting would be best to clear up any past misunderstandings.”
She held the envelope out toward me, but I kept my eyes fixed on her group. Seeing that I wasn’t going to approach, she released the envelope and it floated over to me. It stopped 2 feet away, and I kept my shield up in case it might explode or something worse. A few seconds went by, and it got a little awkward as everyone stood and stared at one another. This dragged on longer than it probably should have, since by the time I’d decided to accept the letter, I’d also realized I had no free hands with which to do so. Etja took the initiative, stepping forward and snagging it from the air. She was still possessed of an unoccupied limb despite holding both her staff and wand.
The woman then held up the second envelope, this time looking around and searching the room.
“Inquisitor Vyxmeldo’a,” she said confidently, despite the loson being nowhere in sight. If this were a trap, they really should have installed better lighting. “There has been an armistice between Litta and Eschendur for some time. The conflict between us began due to aggression against Littan citizens in the Eschen Gap, but the existence of the Operator has given the duchess reason to reevaluate. If these crimes against the empire were committed by an unaligned third party, then your exposure of that entity during your efforts to reach this portal has done a great service to both of our nations.”
“And yet you are still here,” said Nuralie, stepping from nowhere beside me. Her bow was drawn and not quite aiming at the woman. “Unless you discovered how to move a Delve portal, we are still in Eschendur.”
“This forward operating base has been one condition of the armistice,” said the Littan. “It has served as a launching point for the ongoing investigation into the entity.” The woman raised the envelope again. “The duchess has penned this request for further discussion toward a final resolution of the conflict with the Zenithars. Her Grace would be honored for you to deliver the letter on her behalf, and would view it as both a favor and an act of goodwill.”
There was a lot of subtext to the captain’s words, which were classic diplomatic speech. She was painting a picture of past and present events in the most flattering light, not just for the Littans, but for us as well.
First, our party was being invited to sit down with the two leaders of the Littan invasion to clear up ‘misunderstandings’. I assumed these ‘misunderstandings’ included our participation in the wholesale slaughter of a single-digit percentage of the entire Littan Delver population. It might also include a disavowment of any ‘overzealous officers’ involved in the decision to put a ballista bolt through my skull. It could just as easily be an invitation to dig ourselves a hole through self-incrimination. If we decided to accept such a meeting it would need to be handled carefully.
The personal request to Nuralie was more complex. If the two countries currently had an armistice, then they certainly had some lines of communication open. I doubted the Littans needed Nuralie to personally deliver a letter, so this was probably part of some political gamesmanship.
The officer had reduced the war between their nations to a misallocation of culpability. They’d thought the Eschens had attacked their forces in the Gap when the Operator was the one who’d actually executed those men and women. It sounded like the duchess thought the whole thing was one big oopsie that they were willing to walk back. Of course, ‘further discussions’ were far from any sort of commitment, and in reality, the deaths in the Gap were a pretense for the Littans to get their hands on Eschendur’s Madrin deposits and alchemical resources. I doubted the resolution would be so simple.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The part that I found most interesting was how the officer characterized our relationship with the Operator. According to her, we exposed the Operator’s dirty deeds by revealing its existence on our merry way to the Delve. In actuality, we’d enlisted its help in an outright assault on a fortified Littan military position so we could carve a path to the Delve portal. There were a few reasons why the Littans might want to wash their hands of any bad blood between our party and the empire, but one of them stood out to me the most.
We were fucking famous.
The System had loudly announced the phase transition to every Delver in the world, along with the names of each person responsible. It was a very short list, and our party made up 75 percent of it. We’d just handed every nation in the world a massive strategic advantage–its own Creation Delve–with one notable exception: Hiward. We’d effectively gutted the kingdom’s monopoly on Delvers. Beyond that, we’d helped unlock some serious attainable power-ups for all of the established heavy hitters, some potential shortcuts for power leveling the new kids, and the promise of better loot and more chips for anyone willing to take risks.
These changes would draw some ire from established Grumpy Gusses, but on the whole, I was willing to bet we were pretty damn popular. It was one thing for Litta to capture and execute some homicidal level 6 Delvers who nobody gave a shit about. It was another thing for the empire to ambush and murder a party of young talents returning from a year of valiant conquest in the noble pursuit of giving everyone bigger guns and more money.
So, why was Duchess Ruiz ‘honored’ for Nuralie to ‘do her the favor’ of being a glorified–and unnecessary–delivery woman? First, optics. It looked good for the Littans to immediately defer to Nuralie in her role as Inquisitor. The title gave the loson some diplomatic power, and the Littans were probably more than happy to lean on that to show the world they had good relations with the returning heroine, who was kind enough to run errands for them.
Second, they were probably thinking it would ingratiate Nuralie to them. The duchess was characterizing this as an honor and a favor to her when truthfully it would more likely be seen as an honor and a favor to Nuralie. Making Nuralie a part of the Littan-Eschen peace talks lent the loson a lot of legitimacy. If she wanted to grab onto the Inquisitor title and start milking it for all it was worth, this was an excellent place to start. After all, the title had only been given to Nuralie for convenience. She expected it to be revoked as soon as we were finished in Eschendur.
Now, I knew that Nuralie didn’t give one shit about any of that, but she accepted the letter anyway.
“This has been great,” I said. “Thanks for the invitation, but we’re going to go now.”
“Duchess Ruiz and General Connatis would like to meet as soon as possible,” said Captain Pio. “What would you like me to tell them, as far as timelines?”
I frowned.
“We’ve been gone for a year,” I said. “There are many crucial matters that require our attention.”
“Varrin, got any input here?” I thought to the group as I rambled noncommittal statements.
“We’re important people,” I continued, gesturing vaguely at the party with my hammer. “With important stuff to do, important people to meet with…”
“Tell them we will return to this room in a week,” Varrin answered. “Making peace with the Littans will be crucial for dealing with Brae’ach and the avatars, but we do not need to cater to their wishes to our own detriment. A week will give me time to speak with my family to learn what has happened in our absence and prepare contingencies. It is also brief enough that the Littans should not view it as an insult.”
“Normally, I would check with my personal assistant,” I said to the Littan captain, giving the rest of the party a chance to think up if they disagreed with Varrin’s approach. “But, I understand this is a matter of some import, and I respect the time of both the general and the duchess. As such, we’ll return in 1 week for a meeting.”
“I, uh, I see,” said the Littan. “You will return to the fort in 1 week. At what time do you expect to arrive?”
“To clarify, we’ll literally return to this spot.” I pointed my hammer at the ground. Captain Pio’s eyes darted to the portal once again, and she seemed to understand, although she didn’t seem to like it. “As far as what time, we can make it whatever time it is right now.”
“It is 3 in the morning, currently,” she said.
“Ah. Then let’s call it 8 am sharp.”
“Very well,” she said, giving us another bow. “I shall let them know.”
I kept an eye on the Littans as the rest of the group filed into the Closet. I walked backward through the entrance once everyone else was through, giving the captain a farewell waggle of my hammer, then collapsed the portal.
I took a deep breath and turned to find the party already spread out across my Pocket Closet Penthouse. Etja was sprawled face down on a leather couch, one arm hanging off the side and she let out a muffled groan of comfort. Nuralie was slouched into an overstuffed armchair, while Xim was raiding my wine cabinet. Varrin was methodically removing his armor, tossing the pieces into his inventory as he went. Shog hovered through a pair of open French doors and floated above my bed, then poked a fluffy duvet with one claw.
“That was a hell of a 180,” I said. “We just went from kill-on-sight fugitives to breakfast guests of the duchess.”
Etja made a noise that sounded like an attempt at words, but her face was planted in the couch cushions so it was anybody’s guess.
Xim walked back into the den carrying two wine glasses and two bottles of red, shoulder slumped.
“I agree, Etja,” she said, filling a glass and handing it to Nuralie. “I need about 6 months to decompress before diving into international politics.” Nuralie pulled out a vial of her shitfaced potion, tapped two drops into it, then handed the glass back to Xim.
“Is that what she said?” I asked.
“Mmmfhrmmph,” said Etja.
Xim handed Nuralie another full glass. Nuralie tapped two more drops, then handed that one back to Xim as well. The cleric took a deep pull from the first, then squeezed into the large armchair next to Nuralie. Nuralie raised an eyeridge but scooted to accommodate her.
“Be prepared,” said Varrin, tugging off a pauldron. “Today, one of our enemies made overtures of peace. Tomorrow, distant allies will call us their boon companions. The day after, the world will be at our door. Every stranger will become a friend, and every friend will be owed a favor.”
“And they will stab us in the back if the blood will warm their hands,” said Nuralie.
“Geez, a couple of cynics over here,” I said. “I expect at least one powerful figure to declare war on us out in the open.”
Xim drained the rest of her wine.
“Glass can’t be half full if it’s empty,” she said. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but she was already sipping on her second.
Etja unburied her face and looked up at me with misty eyes.
“Shower,” she said. “Where is it? It’s been a year.”
“More like 4 months subjectively,” said Nuralie.
I felt a sudden swell of excitement.
“What if I have something better than a shower?” I said. Etja propped herself up onto her elbows.
“Like a bath?” she asked, hope writ clear on her features.
“Better than even a bath.”
Etja floated off of the couch, hovering toward me.
“You have a hot tub?” She looked like she might cry.
“No. I mean, yes I have a hot tub, but I also have something better than a hot tub.”
Etja floated upright and landed, then grabbed me by the shoulders.
“Just. Tell me,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
I took her shoulders as well, looked her in the eye, and revealed the passion project I’d finished more than a year before, but had never been able to use.
“It’s called a Japanese hot spring.”