Shortly after being invited to establish my own nation by Zenithar Zura, Varrin and Xim found their way to the lounge. Zura excused herself to retire, granting me some time to mull things over, and she assured me that a servant had already prepared a room for her. Rooms had also been prepared for her entourage, who I didn’t know she’d come with.
I went over the mental map of improvements Grotto and I had made to the Closet, and bedrooms had not been on the list. Someone had both identified and rectified that problem before it even found its way to me, and I owed that person a beer.
The party did a little catching up, then discussed my potential Diplomacy evolutions.
Carouser: You blend seamlessly into any social environment, able to tell who’s who at a glance. You always know who among the entities you can perceive has the most social influence and who that entity regards as an ally among those present.
Merchant: You instinctively know the market value of any item you inspect. When presenting an item to an entity whose CHA is lower than your WIS, you instinctively know the highest price for which they would be willing to pay, or the lowest price for which they would be willing to sell the item.
Bureaucrat: You instinctively know the laws and social mores of any civilized area you visit, including expected behaviors, etiquette, and other rules of social engagement.
I’d already perused the options, so none were a surprise.
Carouser was free information. Reading the power dynamic in a room was a skill some people spent their entire lives developing. Here, that capability would be handed to me for free, with little to no effort on my part.
Fuck, I loved magic.
In some situations, social hierarchy would be easy to discern even without this evolution, but things were rarely so simple. Further, knowing who someone publicly regarded as an ally was one thing, knowing who they really regarded as an ally was another. Based on the wording of the intrinsic, I expected it would be handy dandy for sniffing out a betrayal before it happened. Too bad it only applied to the one person with the most social influence.
Merchant was a bit of a surprise when I’d first seen it, but intrinsic skills sometimes took a ‘many ways to skin a cat’ approach. Nuralie had Mercantile, which was entirely focused on barter and trade, whereas Diplomacy was a broader intrinsic that had some minor overlap with several other, more specific skills. It was certainly useful, but I wasn’t a nickel-and-dime kind of guy. I’d leave the sales and acquisitions to Varrin and Nuralie.
Bureaucrat would eliminate the need for any more cram sessions with Riona, and yes, I knew about the evo before we ever crammed. The reason I’d chosen to still engage in the crash course–rather than impulse pick Bureaucrat to save myself the trouble–was to see how much value the evolution would give me.
It would certainly make things a hell of a lot easier, but given how fast I learned, it wasn’t a game-changer. It was also the type of evolution that could eventually be obviated if I became well-learned enough. It would be nice for keeping up with the ever-changing landscape of cultural whims, but a hands-on approach seemed more reasonable.
I liked Carouser. Varrin liked Carouser. Everyone else liked Carouser.
I picked Carouser.
One might be curious what my observations about the party members were, after selecting the evolution. As for which of us had the most social influence, well… I’m afraid that will have to remain a mystery.
He or she did regard everyone else in the party as an ally, so there were no serious festering grudges. No surprises there.
Once that was settled and we had our game plan for the next day, it was time for bed.
Zzzz…
The next morning was a flurry of activity as final preparations were made. Then it was finally time to open the Xor’Drel Checkpoint to greet the king and his retinue.
We were in our Sunday best. Nuralie had on a suit of dark forest colors with pops of silver and wore a pair of polished high-tops. She’d skipped her absurdly tall tophat, since we were indoors and it would have been impolite to wear, despite how awesome it was.
Varrin wore a black and gray suit with a dash of military flair, tailored to make sure all who saw him understood how absolutely jacked the man was beneath the layers. Honestly, the trousers framed the big guy’s backseat so well, the damn thing looked like it could perform miracles. Next to them cheeks, he wore a ceremonial sword sheathed at his hip, tied shut with a peace knot, while Kazandak was safely stowed in inventory.
Not that anything was stopping him from accessing his real sword in an instant. The lack of available lethal weaponry was symbolic.
Xim wore a set of celebratory cleric’s robes. Its cream and crimson colors were accentuated by sharp, ritualistic crests stained into the fabric with charcoal ink. While the robes were typically worn during formal religious events, Sam’lia was about the farthest thing one could get from a puritanical goddess. The robes showed off nearly everything the cleric had to show. It hugged and emphasized curves, with slits on either side of the ankle-length skirt running all the way up to Xim’s waistline.
She was also barefoot, not that I took any particular notice of that fact. Don’t make it weird, people.
Etja had acquired an entire wardrobe’s worth of clothing in Eschengal and was currently wearing a teal dress of gossamer fabric with a neckline that plunged down past her belly button. My first thought upon seeing her was that she’d intentionally chosen to have a belly button. My second thought was that she was unconditionally rocking the outfit. Her chest was criss-crossed by a dozen thin golden chains, and all four arms were adorned with armlets, bracelets, and rings. She even had a beautiful tiara made of delicately threaded gold, set with aquamarine gemstones that matched her dress.
As for me, I had on an ocean blue suit that matched my Outlaw’s C’thonic Leather Vest of the Dirty Muffin Toy (in case anyone forgot the full name of one of my signature pieces of gear). The vest was clasped over a pink button-down that worked in concert with a violet, floral-pattern tie to match the colors of my Rocket Man’s C’thonic Feather Boa of the Cat’s Pajamas. Both the shirt and tie were silk, of course. Varrin had gotten the tie custom-made according to my specifications to give me a bit of Earthling flair.
Our hair and makeup were flawless, our footwear could draw applauses, and a critique of our physique would not befall us.
The Checkpoint opened to a well-organized crowd of people. Each of the main houses had sent some sort of ambassador, all of whom came with their own entourages. Xim’s parents were present, of course, flanked by a few other tribe members and speaking with the man of the hour himself.
King Filix Celeritia had the lean and charming look of a male model firmly in their silver fox era. He wore an easy smile framed by a hint of white stubble along his jaw. His medium-length hair looked selectively messy in the way that told me it probably took an hour to get just right, and got another twenty minutes of styling after the subdued dark iron crown he wore was nested atop it.
King Celeritia was a member of the first generation of Delvers, a slave-turned-rebellion leader like Varrin’s great-grandfather. However, his Delving career had slowed after taking on the royal mantle, choosing to spend his time governing rather than pushing deep into the higher levels. It was also difficult to justify risking the king’s life for another 8 stat points, especially when his 30 platinum levels already gave him more power than most.
A squad of King’s Guard surrounded their liege and a dozen more held strategic positions throughout the crowd. The minimum Level required to be a member of the elite unit was 15, but the numbers only went up from there. They were almost exclusively gold Delvers, although I spotted the occasional platinum level here and there. That told a certain story–perhaps an adventurer who bit off more than they could chew, or who’d lost a party member and decided to take it down a notch to gold.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The head of the Guard was a man named Lord Director Aprogar Bluewren, uncle to the reigning Bluewren Thundralke. He was a Level 26 gold who’d completed a full run of 30 gold, silver, and copper Delves and was rumored to have multiple intrinsic skills at Level 100. That was no small feat, and skills that advanced were typically only found in the realm of platinums.
Aprogar Bluewren was also the father of the late Deletar Bluewren, whose sword we’d recovered inside Deijin’s Descent.
Director Bluewren was the first through the Checkpoint portal, along with a team of four other King’s Guards ranging from Level 19 to 22. The man stopped before us, and gave me a mid-depth Hiwardian bow. That was interesting since it was a bow given to someone of equal standing, or to a high-ranking diplomat from another nation. His squad bowed significantly lower, despite the fact they were all members of some noble lineage.
I returned Director Bluewren’s bow, along with the rest of the party, though Varrin dipped lower. The big guy’s lack of a formal position placed the Director above him in the Hiwardian pecking order.
“Master Xor’Drel,” said Director Bluewren after standing upright. “Thank you for allowing us into your home.”
“Of course, Lord Director Bluewren,” I said. “King Celeritia’s request to visit was certainly a surprise, but I am honored to receive him.”
“Please, call me Aprogar,” he said. “There are so many Bluewrens in government positions, it can become confusing when we’re all referred to by our surname.”
“As you wish, Director Aprogar.” Keeping the man’s title involved was implied, according to my lessons. “It’s my understanding that you’re to do a run of the grounds for security reasons.”
“You are correct, Master Xor’Drel,” he said. “However, given the limited duration of your portal, I’ll mostly be relying on the report of my subordinates.”
He raised a hand and made a beckoning gesture to the row of servants behind me. I turned to see two men and two women come forth, with Grotto just ahead of them, wearing his fashionably dressed little man disguise. I raised an eyebrow at my familiar.
[These four told me of their purpose shortly after arriving,] he thought to me. [I allowed them to survey the estate, but none of our sensitive locations were exposed.]
“I would have appreciated being looped in on that.”
[Noted. However, my surveillance of the Closet is expansive, and there is little your involvement would have gained us aside from adding additional stress to your work. I have taken it upon myself to manage the guests so that you’d have time for your lessons and so that you may now act as an appropriate host.]
I focused on the four ‘servants’ while Grotto and I went back and forth, cracking their façade with Reveal. Their mundane souls bloomed into golden Delver halos, between Levels 15 and 18.
One of the women stepped forward and gave Aprogar a deep bow.
“Lord Director,” she said. “In short, we have no way of knowing if this location is secure.”
I appreciated a person who was willing to cut right to the chase.
“I see,” said Aprogar. “Explain.”
“As you are aware, Lord Director, this is a self-contained dimensional space,” said the woman. “All known entrances and exits to the space are controlled by either Master Xor’Drel or his Majordomo.” She gestured at Grotto. “The interior appears to be an interconnected series of rooms, some large enough to serve as the exterior grounds of a noble estate. However, the rooms are often connected through a network of semi-permanent portals. Although we have mapped all accessible rooms, the presence of advanced planar magic makes it impossible to know what other spaces exist.
“Further,” she continued, “we have observed Majordomo exert significant control over the dimensions and structure of individual rooms, and we assume that capability extends to Master Xor’Drel. Existing rooms can be modified rapidly and at their discretion, portal connections can be altered, and any given room can likely be sequestered from the others, with all evacuation routes terminated.”
“Offensive capabilities?” asked Aprogar.
“Per your prior evaluation, Lord Director, Master Xor’Drel and his party have been tentatively classified as a Grade 16 threat individually and a Grade 23 threat collectively. We have not been able to confirm that threat rating, but the sophistication of this dimensional space suggests the rating is too low.”
Aprogar raised an eyebrow at that, then gestured for her to continue.
“Two Grade 15 golems roam the grounds,” she said. “But they are currently… serving refreshments, and are otherwise unarmed.”
“They each have four arms, though,” added one of the men. The woman kept going without missing a beat.
“No dangerous spells, devices, or phenomena have been observed–aside from a decorative armory–but as I mentioned, we cannot know what the rest of this location contains. All individuals in the estate have been vetted and are–to the best of our knowledge–who they appear to be. The majority are staff from the Ravvenblaq manor, with the rest composed of members of Fortune’s Folly, Majordomo, and an Eschen diplomatic group that includes the Zenithar of Geul, Triarch Ros Zura.
“Master Xor’Drel himself remains–” she glanced at me “–‘problematic’, as his origins still cannot be determined. We have no records whatsoever for Majordomo, and our requests for additional history have been denied.”
“Is that everything?” asked Aprogar.
“Yes, Lord Director.”
“Hmph,” the man grunted. “Not the most agreeable evaluation I’ve ever heard,” he said dryly. “But far from the worst. Is there anything you’d like to add, Master Xor’Drel?”
This whole process struck me as odd, and I felt like somebody was trying to catch me with my hand in the cookie jar. I certainly had things to hide, but I wasn’t planning on causing King Celeritia or the other Hiwardians any problems.
“May I ask a question first?” I said.
“You may.”
“Why was this report given in front of me? It seems remarkably forthright.”
The Lord Director grinned. “There are several reasons. The evaluation is for your benefit as much as our own. Most assassins and dissidents do not ask permission before hiding away on someone’s grounds, after all. Doing it this way also shows deference to the head of house, which I’m told somehow preserves their honor.
“I’ve also found that it shakes people up a bit when we show them how much we already know, and it makes one wonder what else we know that we aren’t parading about in front of them. That tends to invite a greater degree of honesty afterward.”
“I see,” I said, then looked at Grotto. “Majordomo, What other defensive measures do we have in place?”
A brief psychic exchange ensured he knew what I was asking for. I figured that divulging a few more factoids could only buy us some favor. At the end of the day, if they decided to take the king and fuck off or request a different venue, it didn’t make too much of a difference to me. They were the ones who’d asked to come inside.
“Aside from what your officer has discussed, Lord Director, Dimensional attacks can be made in nearly any location with little or no forewarning. A second Checkpoint portal connects to Eschengal, which can be opened this evening at the earliest, and there is a temporary portal leading to the Littan fortress west of the Eschen Gap that can be opened at any time.”
Mentioning the other portals was a good touch. It divulged additional avenues of exposure, which I was sure the Lord Director would want to know about.
“Additionally, my party’s exploits have made the avatar of Yearning–Orexis–quite unhappy with us,” I added. “And the avatar known as Fortune has some perverse interest in my life. I have no idea if either has the capacity to infiltrate this space, or whether they would have any real interest in doing so.”
Aprogar rubbed his jaw as he thought. “Well, this just got upgraded to a clusterfuck, I think.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Are you willing to agree not to open either of those portals without direct permission from myself or the king?”
“I believe I can accommodate that request, Director Aprogar.”
“We’ll have countermages throughout the grounds, so any unexpected spellwork will immediately be terminated.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Please do not alter any rooms or internal portals for the duration of the king’s visit,” he added. “My people have provided Majordomo with a more comprehensive list of impermissible activities.”
“I have full faith that he will abide by the rules provided,” I said.
[They are mostly irrelevant,] Grotto thought to me. [Unless someone were to attack, I see no reason why I would violate any of their terms.]
His words weren’t exactly comforting, but it was probably the best I’d get out of him.
“Now that our official business is done,” said Aprogar, “Varrin has informed me your party has something that belongs to my family.”
I nodded, my smile fading as the tone of the conversation darkened. I pulled the Longsword of the Bluewren from my inventory and held it out to the Lord Director. He reached toward it, hand hovering over the sheath as an expression of grief passed over him. He took the weapon and pulled the blade out an inch to study the sigil pressed into the metal just above the guard.
“Thank you,” he said softly, the sword disappearing into his own inventory. “I’ve heard a summary of how you recovered it, but I hope we’ll find time to speak in depth later tonight.” He took a breath and stood up straighter. “For now, I hope your discussions with Hiward are productive.”
Aprogar turned and held up a hand, giving a signal to the King’s Guard outside. They returned a different signal, and a man wearing an outrageously frilly outfit marched forth. He gave me a low bow after entering, then turned and held an arm out toward the king. He opened his mouth, paused for a second, and then began speaking at a volume that absolutely counted as shouting.
“Now presenting His Royal Highness King Filix ‘God-Step’ Celeritia! Sole Sovereign of the Kingdom of Hiward! Defender of the Realm! Hero of the War of Rebellion! Long may he reign!”
The king gave a toothy smile and walked into the Closet.