image [https://cdn.midjourney.com/1759e146-f4dd-4489-82d3-e6ed87d33cc0/0_0.png]
Curiously enough, Vincent could attune to the places the drone showed him. All he needed to do was to hold his concentration focused on a spot for about ten seconds, maybe twelve, and have a characteristic landmark to relate to. He appeared on the castle's roof, stretching himself on the tiles to avoid detection, using Inspect and Insight on what lay below.
The six soldiers were indeed Dark Knights, all the same level, sixty. The species, though, was Undead, a thing he had missed in the previous encounter. Cursing, he made the necessary modifications to his tag.
The movement patterns were unpredictable, but there was a spot where he could go without being seen: behind the cart. He did so, reappearing in a squatting position, with his heart beating like mad. Moving slowly, he pushed his hands over the cart's board and grabbed the first barrel. In the next second, he reappeared in Krivoburg, together with the object. He unceremoniously put it down, then took the first of their barrels, returning to the same position, the fake cask replacing the good one.
The precision of his skill was nothing short of amazing, the barrel arriving just a hair width above the carriage's floor, falling in place without noise.
To reach the next cask, Vincent stretched farther. If his Outsider's Stride had required him to lift the object, he wouldn't have been able to do it because of the awkward position. But it didn't, and they arrived in Krivoburg in seconds.
The problem was how much to push his hands to put the second fake barrel in the same place as the real one. His memory told him to push his arms to the limit; his instinct screamed less. He checked the drone for a second and realized his instincts were right. The barrels were closer to each other than he thought.
Afterward, the exchange flowed without fault until the next to last cask, when things began to go south. More knights entered the courtyard, and Ludwing followed, starting a motivational discourse about the fatherland, honor, and shit Vincent couldn't care less about. But there was no way the king wouldn't notice him if he rose up.
A row of applauses erupted when Corvinus finished talking. The knights' metal gloves made a lot of noise; some moved to close the ranks and salute, and Vincent profited.
The barrel came with him to the police station, but it slid from his hands and broke, a torrent of gold flowing out. Vincent cursed, but there was no time for hesitation. Teleporting for what was supposed to be the last trip, Vincent put the cask with pig iron in place and froze. The carriage started moving; someone attached a horse and pulled it near the exit. Luckily, Vincent was still out of sight and followed the cart, crouching.
Like to spite him intentionally, the last barrel was out of reach as the king talked with his sidekicks near the wagon, drumming his fingers on the object of Vincent's monetary desires. The wisest choice was to bail out, but he feared they would not have enough money for the Khan, and the Mongols would burn their city to the ground just to prove a point. Vincent raised discreetly, pretending he was part of the group of soldiers, hoping for another chance to get the final barrel.
All knights had their backs turned to him, and Vincent risked a short Inspect augmented by Insight. As expected, the big, tough-looking guy was a Necromancer at level one hundred. The thin and pale person displayed no class or level but was a Half-Sidhe as a species.
Vincent dared not look at the King, more so to scan him. Soon, the monarch transformed into a raven and flew away, followed by the Half-Sidhe. "We'll watch you from the sky," Ludwing said as he flapped his wings.
"Let's go!" the Necromancer shouted. As a knight advanced, he approached his torch to the undead soldier. Without warning, the knight's shadow grew into another knight. Two War mounts grew from their shadows afterward, and the two riders spurred their horses, exiting the courtyard.
The fuck! Vincent gulped. One after another, the knights multiplied, grew horses, and left the castle. Remembering his objective, Vincent discreetly approached the carriage. Suddenly, a sharp light blinded him. The torch was an inch from his face. Vincent froze in place.
"Don't move!" the necromancer hissed. "You're not my work… Did the King raise you?"
"I… err…" Vincent tried to find an excuse, feeling his heart trying to jump out of his chest.
"And I told him not to raise people without me. Look at this," the Necromancer scoffed. "A level twenty… Useless. The first dire wolf would make mince meat of you."
"I'm… supposed… to stay… behind," Vincent said, trying to make his voice cavernous. "Janitor. I'm good at dusting."
The Necromancer shrugged and went to work his magic on the next knight and the next until they were all mounted and gone, and they were the last two in the courtyard. Going up the cart's bench, the man threw Vincent a heavy iron key. "Close the gate. Don't leave anyone inside until we return. Heya!" he whipped the horse, who darted like stung by a bee.
Vincent rushed to close the heavy wooden door, then rested his back on them, panting. A minute later, the drone descended slowly, hovering before him. "What do you think you're doing?" Irene yelled through the device. "You almost gave us a heart attack! Come back here, this instant!"
"I have to follow that carr—"
"We have enough money," Bee interjected. "It's twenty thousand over."
Vincent nodded and jumped back. "I thought I was done!" he sighed, trembling. Taking off his helmet, he let it fall and did the same with all the armor pieces. His T-shirt was soaked in sweat, sticking to his skin.
For performing a very delicate task, you have leveled up. + 1 to Spirit.
You spent 14 Karmic Charges. You gained 1 Karmic Charge.
"Do we have to give all the money to the Khan?" Jorge asked. He was working with Thomas and Bee to put the gold in the fake barrel that stayed behind, throwing the pig iron in the dirt.
"Categorically not," Thomas said." If the Khan said a hundred thousand, that's it. We can split the rest among us."
"What about the guild?" Vincent asked.
"The guild takes twenty percent of everyone's gains. The rest is ours," Bee said. "Technically, the one doing most of the work gets a double share. That would be you."
"We split equally," Vincent said. "Thomas basically controls the garrison and offers us his space. Jorge's done is essential for scouting. Irene is organizing stuff that I wouldn't even know where to start. Brandi and Jong fought the Dark Knights, and you're the prodigy who will help us with enchantments once he levels enough... hopefully. Everyone has their place in this gang, so we split equally.
"That's kind of you," Irene frowned, "but the Guild needs the gold more than we do. I propose to donate the—"
"How about this?" Vincent interrupted her before she generously disposed of his money. "We'll borrow the guild from our cash as needed until we get it back. Without interest and no deadline pressure!" he raised a finger toward Thomas. "That said, let's keep in mind we can't spend the gold just yet. We have to sit on it for a while… Shit!" Vincent facepalmed all of a sudden.
"What's up?" Irene frowned.
"I just remembered something," he blurted with widened eyes. "You know what day is today?"
"No idea," she said.
"It's the sixth day since we arrived here," Bee said. "Or more precisely—"
"Today, we were supposed to visit Dracula's castle in Romania," Vincent said, biting his lips joyfully with a big grin and wide eyes. "That's a fake, by the way, but guess what? We have the real deal just here! What if we go visit a real evil lord's den? Maybe loot it in the process? What do you say?"
"No, no, no," Bee waved his hands. "If I see undead, I'll faint and scream… not necessarily in that order."
"It's empty," Vincent insisted.
"I'd always dreamed of visiting the rich people's castles," Thomas said.
"Brandi?" Irene said, opening the door to the courtyard's main entrance. "Do you want to visit Count Dracula's castle?"
The woman joined them, closing and locking the door behind her. "Count me in. But who will guard the money?"
"Jong?" Vincent asked. "He's in the bell tower, watching the Mongols. Send him an SMS."
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"I'll stay," Jorge said. "I can see through the drone."
"Deal," Brandi said, offering him her gun.
"Take that thing away. I have no idea what to do with it. If I get in trouble, I scream through the drone, and you rescue me."
"Good," Vincent rubbed his hands. "Ready? Come closer, and let's hold hands." In truth, there was no need for that, but he enjoyed feeling Irene's small and warm hand in his. Friendly, of course. He focused for a few more seconds than necessary, and then they were in Pragwyn.
"It's dark in here," Irene noticed, activating her smartphone's lantern.
"You think he'll figure out it was us?" Bee asked.
"We'll see… But with some tough Mongol archers on our side and some advanced weaponry, courtesy of our engineers," Vincent looked intently at the drone's camera, "we can protect ourselves. It wouldn't hurt to explore to the west, though… To jump out of his reach if the worst comes."
"Munich will be the closest safe spot," Irene said. “Vienna is too close to the border.”
"Give me a couple of days. I'll find a way to enhance the range," Jorge spoke through the drone.
"Thanks, man. So, what do you want to visit first?" Vincent asked the rest. "To the left, the Undead barracks. To the right, the castle."
"Undead barracks, definitely no; Castle, a hard yes," Brandi said, and Irene nodded in agreement.
Vincent took the lead up the outdoor stairs, a long one. The main door was unlocked. They arrived in an empty lobby with two wardrobes on the left and the right. There was nothing there safe for a forgotten umbrella. Proceeding onward, they landed in a ballroom.
"This is like art nouveau style," Brandi pointed at the furniture. "I didn't expect it in the Middle Ages."
"We're not in the middle ages," Bee said. "The year is the same, but they're more… behind… I heard Paris has a metro and trams."
"Uhuh," Vincent said absently, opening the elegant cupboards arranged at regular intervals. "Bingo! Silverware," he exclaimed at the third.
"Enchanted silverware," Thomas said after inspecting the items, producing a sack, and throwing the cutlery inside. "This stuff is expensive. It can be remelted without losing its properties."
"Perfect," Vincent nodded, looking through the large crystal windows opposite the courtyard. The best part of the city was visible. "The old castle and the cathedral are more or less the same, but the rest of the buildings are different… There was another palace in this place, on Earth… or was it a house related to Mozart? Hard to tell. We're above Mala Strana, that's sure. There's the Vltava… Who's our king, I mean Beauhemia's?"
"A kid, Ludwing is his regent," Thomas said.
"I think we should move to a safer city," Bee said. "That scary guy will find it was us."
Vincent didn't answer because arguing against someone scared for their life was counterproductive. He counted on Bee to man up with leveling. Meanwhile, he proceeded to the next large door. It gave into a corridor, with doors on the left and right, ten feet tall. The rooms behind were salons with different colors and interior designs. A luxury only the rich could afford. They also found a painting collection and an antique weapons display, each in their own halls.
"You can't be seen carrying a weapon with the Corvinus's crest," Irene told Thomas, who was salivating over a Rare-tier halberd. "We have to leave behind everything that's traceable."
"You spoke like a true criminal," Vincent said.
"How do you know how criminals speak? Irene smirked at him.
"I had a Spanish great-uncle who was a fence. And art forger. He gifted us a fake Picasso drawing every Christmas… I hate Picasso," Vincent frowned.
On the end of the couloir was a set of stairs. Beneath them were the kitchens and various storages, all empty and filled with dust.
"I guess they ordered pizza," Brandi joked.
"Let's go upstairs," Thomas suggested. "That's where the good stuff should be, in the private quarters."
The mansion had three stories above ground. The top one was obviously for servant quarters, tiny rooms under the roof with small windows. Romantic, if in Paris, but a creepy desolation here. A few rooms had chains tied to the bed, but fortunately, they found no skeleton. Everything was abandoned.
The middle story had the same plan: a central corridor with rooms to the left and right. The rooms were as large as the salons downstairs but were living quarters. Two had been occupied until recently; the beds had sheets. A tray of food was left on a table in one of them. Bread and decomposing blood sausages. Irene retched.
Finally, there was only one space left to investigate. As large as the ballroom and overlapping with it the master's quarters. A baldaquin bed on the side was arranged to offer the best view over the city, a working desk with some silver pens Thomas grabbed instantly, a few paintings, and a lot of books on the back wall.
"Rostislav Fyodor Dostoevsky? You're kidding me?" Irene exclaimed, picking up a book from a reading table.
"Which one?" Jorge asked.
"Which one do you think?" Irene sneered, showing them the title. It was The Demons. "It's signed: to Ludwing, my darkest inspiration. With love, Fyodor."
"Ew," Vincent grimaced.
"You're not homophobic, right?" Irene frowned at him.
"Just psychopathophobic," Vincent assured her.
"If you think that's bad, look at that," Brandi forwarded her hand toward a portrait.
Under the phone flashlight, the painting revealed Ludwing's full-sized image, so vivid they took a step back, expecting him to get out of the painting and jump them. Unlike the original, the representation had deep wrinkles and skin botches on his face. If evilness could be represented by anything, his glance was it.
"You think it's like the Dorian Gray thing?" Irene asked. "The painting aging instead of him?"
"It's not a painting," Bee said, approaching his phone to a small plaque under the frame. "It's an Ambrotype. They must've built a huge camera to make one this size."
Vincent leaned forward to read the text, almost bumping head to head with the rest, who did the same. The text read: Matthias Corvinus, beloved grandfather. 1443 – 1863. Image taken after his victory over the 1848 Wicked Rebellion.
"Don't you find it strange there are so many common characters with those of our world?" Vincent said.
"It's just speculation, but we can imagine clusters of parallel universes linked together, like grapes, resonating together somehow," Bee said.
"Guys, I bet there's a hidden room behind that bookcase," Thomas said, switching his head back and forth and counting on his fingers. "We're above the ballroom, correct? This room is smaller. Where's the rest of the space?"
"I think he's right," Vincent said, looking over the bookshelves. On the side, a volume wrapped in vellum stood an inch out. He went and touched it, trying to see if it moved. When he pushed it back in line, there was a click, and a part of the bookcase slid out and laterally. Behind, a space thirty feet deep and fifteen wide, in total darkness. At the entrance was something that looked like an electric switch.
"Wait!" Thomas yelled a second before Vincent pushed the button, grabbing his hand. "What if it's trapped?"
"I don’t see a thing, and my Inspect is now thirty," Vincent said.
"And how do you think traps are built? With avoiding that skill in mind. Let me see, I have Detect Traps." The older man scrutinized the switch and puffed. "Yep. Trapped. Like the black tiles on the floor."
"What happens if we step on them?" Irene asked.
"I have no idea," Thomas confessed.
"I do," Bee said. "A big dog comes to life and eats us." He projected his phone's light deeper into the space. There was a desk with a thick book on it, a trunk, and a suit of armor displayed on a dummy with a spear in hand. In front of them was an energy sphere enclosing a monstrous dog almost as tall as they were. The dog was as still as a statue.
"The armor and weapon are Cursed Artifacts and display only three question marks," Vincent said after looking at them from a distance. "The doggie's a Suspended Warg, Elite Monster, level a hundred. I have no idea what a Suspended Warg is, but it doesn’t look friendly."
"It's just Warg. Suspended means it's trapped in a force field. That's really interesting," Bee said.
"It's too dangerous. Let's go," Thomas said. "We must remove the barrels before my wife comes to do the garden."
"That will be in the morning, right?" Vincent asked.
"Yep."
"We still have a few hours left. Those books and the trunk are worth a look."
"Only one of us should go. The most dextrous," Irene hissed, slapping Bee's raised hand.
"Me," both Brandi and Vincent said. They looked at each other hesitantly, unwilling to argue but each eager to go.
"There must be a way to deactivate the trap," Bee said.
"I see no mechanism," Thomas said.
"Because you have to think like a raven," Bee said, pointing his index up. Above the door was a thin wooden ledge. A perch.
Without waiting for an invitation, the drone flew over their heads and rose into the secret room. "There's a second switch here," Jorge said. A click followed.
"Traps are off," Thomas said.
Seconds later, Bee and Irene examined the book and Vincent, Thomas, and Brandi the trunk. The lid was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime.
"Don't touch it," Vincent said.
"There's no trap on it," Thomas said.
"We'll leave traces and fingerprints. We don't want that. Knife," he forwarded his hand toward Brandi, who had a dagger at her belt. Pushing the blade under the lid, he tried to raise it an inch. It worked. "It's not locked. Now, I want you two to do exactly as I say. Thomas, put your fingers under the lid, and when I give the signal, raise it slowly. You go behind it," he told Brandi, "grab the bottom and pull it up. Also slowly. This way, the lid will stay vertical, but the chest will open. OK, you can go."
Inch by inch, the trunk tilted forward, allowing Vincent to examine the content. Old clothes, almost destroyed by moths and age. A fur hat, a heavily gold-embroidered tunic, and a pair of leather boots. He started with the hat, took it out, and felt the inside with his fingers. Nothing there. He continued with the boots—with the same result—then unfolded the tunic.
"What are you doing?" Irene asked.
"After my time in the army, I considered working in customs and border security. These look like the grandfather's items. Nobles are paranoid and always worry about plots, right? They often hid valuables in their clothes, just in case, and— Aha!"
Several objects were under the lining, on the side with the buttons. The hidden space was like a tube, an inch and a half in diameter, going up all the way.
"I can't hold it for much longer," Brandi complained. "This is heavy."
"Are you two finished with the book?" Vincent asked.
"Yes," Bee blurted giddily. "It's about magic, but we don't understand the language. We took photos and put the book back in the same position."
"Go help Brandi, both of you. It won't be long."
Using the tip of the dagger to untie the seams at the bottom, Vincent shook the coat. A ring slid out, and he put it on the floor. Next, one by one, came twenty large gems, maybe diamonds. Before he enlarged the space, they had been held by the tightness of the fabric like peas in their pod.
He thought that was it, but something else was moving. Squeezing his index in the hole, he pulled out a weird silvery shaft, maybe a third of an inch thick and thirty inches long. It was flexible but more like a metal wire than a rope. The tunic returned to the chest.
"You can put it down. Slowly!"
The trunk slid back to its place without showing any trace of their intervention.
"What are those?" Thomas asked.
"Beats me…" Vincent sighed, putting the diamonds and the ring in his pants pocket and the silvery wire around his jeans like a belt. The items were displaying only ???.
"Won't he notice?" Irene asked.
"The seam was original. That secret pocket had never been opened. So, no, because he didn't know about it in the first place. Did you guys get any levels?"
"One for finding the secret room," Thomas said.
"Two for finding the switch," Bee said. "And some Body for holding the trunk."
"This is hilarious, but me too. I got a level for… holding weight competently," Brandi said.
"One," Jorge followed.
"One for figuring out the book is about magic," Irene said.
"Let's wrap it up," Vincent said. His notification was as puzzling as the others'. The System really wanted them to progress as fast as possible.
You have spent 10 Karmic Charges. You have gained 22 Karmic Charges.
For doing and finding stuff, you have leveled x3. +1 in Spirit.