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Bolvon sat in the corner, unnoticed by the Foskor Diplomat sitting across from Rashanna. Lurgen Naskowitz, as he had learned, was a man who was very prudent and proper. But he had a secret, one that Bolvon had exploited at Rashanna’s behest. He listened in to the conversation, making out some of the words in Triskol. He was not fluent in the language, but the expression on the man’s face left no doubt in his mind that the blackmail had worked.
It had taken some skullduggery, but Bolvon had broken into the Diplomat’s chambers and found evidence of his embezzlement of funds. Taking the proof was even easier, and as soon as Bolvon had given it to Rashanna, she knew exactly how to play it to their advantage. He’ll be a valuable resource, he thought as the panicked expression of the man left no room for doubt.
The meeting concluded, and Bolvon joined Rashanna’s shadow as she left the room. After they arrived in her chambers, he ceased concentrating on the spell, and reappeared next to her. “All went well?” he asked in Arinol.
“Yes. It worked perfectly. We will have our meeting in Dornsk, and only have to make a single concession for Lady Rivers’ demands.”
“Which part?”
“One of the changes to the laws that Lady Rivers requires. Trisk will not commit to vassalization under our empress’ rule if she does not guarantee that the meritocracy at the king-tier ruler level is suspended for the next three generations. King Skir wants his child, and eventual grandchild, to rule the kingdom.”
“Do you believe our goddess will accept that?”
“It would be an easy accommodation. I don’t imagine it is a deal breaker to ensure the capitulation of an entire kingdom almost overnight. The whole of Trisk, minus Vharthos, Fosk, and Raptol – those race-specific nations will require separate negotiations.”
“You have pull in Vharthos I assume, since you’re one of them.”
“That’s right. My family name does not command the same level of respect, but that combined with my current role? It shouldn’t be a problem.” She sat in a cushioned chair and clicked her tongue. Her raven flew over, and she scribbled a note before handing it to the bird, whispering to it, and going to the window as the bird flew out. “We have two weeks until the meeting in Dornsk, where King Skir will finalize the terms with Lady Rivers.”
Bolvon smiled, “Finally.” His smile shifted to a frown as he heard noise from the hallway. A clattering of metal booted feet. “Strange.” He pointed to the closet, “Hide. Now.”
Rashanna did as she was instructed, dashing to the wardrobe and hiding inside of it. Bolvon went to the guard quarters’ door adjoining the room and threw it open. The Duskari inside were gearing up as well, having heard the noise from the hall.
“Posto nin a gwathren / a doltho nin o thiathol / cario nin ú-enni / min i dû,” Bolvon whispered. The spell cloaked him in shadow, and he merged with it as he slipped under the door. The hallway was empty, but he dashed through the hall and down the corridor. He spotted an armored contingent that was making their way to the throne room. Interesting. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make sense of what he heard, but something was happening. He followed along the corner of the hall, hidden within the shadows at the edges of torchlight.
The throne room was richly appointed with purple tapestries with gold thread, depicting the different rulers of the kingdom of Trisk. The current king, Skir the twenty-fifth, was seated on the throne, and looked quite alarmed as he stood up and shouted some order. His personal guard gathered around the throne, and he hid behind it.
Interesting. A coup? Bolvon theorized as the armored individuals he had followed in shouted orders, and there was a temporary standoff between the two sides. Bolvon did recognize the symbol on the tabards the aggressors wore. Ah, the son. Wanting to take the throne for whatever reason. Perhaps he heard of the king’s impending deal. Or it could just be a power grab. As if on cue, the doors to the throne room opened, and the prince strode through with two of the king’s guard flanking him.
Bolvon heard the arguing between the king and the prince; even without speaking the language, he could tell what was going to happen. And he pulled his punch dagger. The soldiers charged at each other, and the fighting was joined. Time to serve my goddess’ will. He knew from his talks with Rashanna that the current king was on-board with vassalization, and so this usurper should be put down. The main hall had plenty of shadows in the center of the room, and he was able to sneak up behind the prince. He waited until the combat surged all around them, and the prince was defending himself from an attacker.
He grabbed the crown prince around the neck and stabbed the punch-dagger into the base of his skull. The man collapsed, and Bolvon harvested his mana core before he slipped back into the shadows. The surge of energy filled him up to the brim, and he reveled in the slight increase to his mana reservoir.
Bolvon smiled quietly as the fighting faded. The troops surrendered upon seeing the prince dead, and the king sat on the throne, weeping. Well, a minor setback, perhaps. But they cannot trace it back to me. One benefit of the punch dagger artifact Lyn had given him, as he had learned from a Newen divination specialist back in Lynhold, was that it obfuscated spells to discern the responsible party for those slain by it. Bolvon slid along the wall and left the throne room, returning to the guest chambers with a feeling of satisfaction. Her will be done.
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Lyn stood up after an hour had passed. “Right, full up on mana.” She looked at the door with the dozens of layered inscriptions. “What’s the order?”
Thomas pulled out a small set of paint and traced small, colored lines around the different verses. “Just make sure you fully activate one inscription before the next.”
Lyn nodded and focused her undivided attention to the task, pouring mana out of her palm and into the inscriptions. Focusing with laser-like precision to ensure that the mana only fueled the singular inscription.
“Why can’t she just push mana into it all at once?” Vael asked as she stood up.
“When you have multi-layered verses,” Thomas explained, “It’s like writing a message on top of another message. You can create complex, elaborate, multi-faceted inscriptions, but in order to access the inscription under a layer, one must fully activate the layer atop it. Think of it like an onion: a person has to peel back each layer to access the one underneath.”
“Is this just a test, then?” Gael asked. “A way to ensure none can enter?”
“Well, no one except a person with a huge amount of mana.”
Lyn drained her mana core fully and began to draw upon the amulet’s reservoir. “Thomas,” she muttered, “I’m not going to have enough.”
“Shit,” Thomas placed his hands on her back, “Both of you, hands on Lyn. Repeat after me.” The twins both placed their hands on Lyn’s shoulders and back. “Here we go. Anna i 'ár nelui nin / vi hain vessel.”
The twins repeated the phrase exactly, and Lyn felt the cool temperature of their mana flow into her mana core. Thomas’ mana felt quite different, almost like crinkling, crumpled paper that was passing through a chute. The mana swirled in her torso before her Destroyer core converted it, and she was able to finish out the last inscribed phrases with just a tiny bit of mana left over. The doors shuddered before sliding into the walls, revealing a dust-caked staircase that led downward. No inlay was on the ground to provide direction, and the walls appeared to be much, much older.
Thomas laughed and clapped his hands once before rubbing them together, “Finally! I’ve been waiting for five years to see what’s down here.”
Lyn sniffed the air and picked up a stench of rot that was distant. Extremely old, mildewy rot. She drew Cataclysm, willed it to the shield and short sword configuration – to better accommodate the small space – and held both at the ready. “Something died down here. A long, long time ago.”
Thomas frowned, “That…doesn’t make sense.” He reached into his pouch and pulled out several inscribed scrolls. “But, better safe than sorry.”
Vael and Gael both drew their weapons. “We don’t have much mana,” Vael said. “We should hold off for now.”
“We can’t,” Lyn replied as she began to descend, keeping an eye on the walls, ceiling, and floor for any indications of traps that Zack’s Rogue core would alert her to. “The door will shut in ten minutes.”
“Will we be trapped?” Vael asked.
“Probably not,” Thomas replied as he gestured to an inscription along the wall, “That appears to open the door with little mana.”
“We should wait,” Gael stated bluntly. “Just inside the cutoff for the doors. Wait for our mana to refill. Explore while empowered by spells.”
Lyn nodded and relaxed her stance slightly, “He makes a point, Thomas.”
Thomas sighed and sat on the stairs, “I’ve waited five years, I suppose another hour or two won’t hurt.”
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Commander Sigurd was sitting in the bar, eating alone as usual. In the Valagonian military, recruits were required to stay in the barracks and eat the provided food – effectively, training them to get used to travel rations. But once they had graduated and were a part of the military proper, they could go and utilize vouchers to purchase food and drink from establishments. Those establishments would then give the vouchers to their tax collector, who would provide a reprieve.
This was one of the best bars in Cecilaria, the capital city of Valagonia. She had an excellent cup of white wine from Brol near the coast, and a very satisfying meal. She pored over the reports next to her, only looking up when she heard the trod of heavy footsteps coming her direction. Kory, the Berserker hero, sat down at the table. “What do you want?” she asked.
He kicked his feet up on a chair to the side and crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back as he stared at her. “I’m taking some of the recruits,” he stated as he pulled a slip of paper from his chest pocket and tossed it over to her.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Sigurd ripped open the wax seal and saw the words penned by Princess Cecily. “You get to take a whole regiment?”
Kory chuckled and snapped his fingers for a server. He handed the man a voucher, “Ale, the darkest, strongest you have. And a meal. Whatever’s hot and tasty.” The servant bowed and left before Kory returned his attention to Sigurd, who was staring daggers into him. “Yes, I’m taking the next set of recruits.
Those are some of the most promising, she thought. This current group would be much better to give him. “You won’t take this group?”
“They barely got through the obstacle course. They’re pissants.”
Sigurd set the parchment down and plopped her elbows on the table, folding her fingers and staring over at Kory. “Do you want Valagonia to win the war? Because taking good recruits away from the training-”
He slammed his feet on the floor, “No. Fuck that noise. I am going to take those recruits and turn them into the most vicious bastards you’ve seen. A vanguard, charging headlong into Khrelardia’s army, with myself at the front.” He leaned back as the server put a tankard in front of him and delivered a plate of food.
“There’s no way to convince you?”
“None.” He eyed her as he picked up his knife and carved away a chunk of roast meat. “I came here to tell you personally. So you wouldn’t be blindsided.”
“Thoughtful,” she commented as she leaned back. “Why do me the courtesy? You’re already fucking me over with this decision.”
He scarfed down a slab of meat and then belched loudly before picking up the tankard and draining it in one go. “Ahh…It’s because you cared. Back in that village on the outskirts of that duchy. The men under me wanted to kill off innocent people, but you got them to back down. I was about to kill them all…and I didn’t have to. Those kids were kept safe.” He pushed away from the table and left several Gold Eagles on it. “I wanted to thank you and say that I’m sorry. But I have to take the best set of recruits we have coming up.”
She sighed and nodded, “I understand. You’re welcome, by the way.” She lifted her glass of wine, “Now, if you’d be so kind to fuck off, I have a meal to finish and paperwork to fill out.”
Kory chuckled and turned away, glancing back at her for a moment. “Stay safe on the battlefield, Commander Sigurd.” He left the building, pushing his way past a small cluster of people to exit the main door.
Sigurd swirled her wine before she took another sip.
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The doors had shut behind them, and the four sat in the darkness; able to see because they were Duskari or in Thomas’ case, body enhancement via Darksight Eyedrops. When Lyn’s mana had recovered enough, she repeated her go-to internal spell to enhance her combat capabilities. The twins did the same, and Thomas re-used the spell that would split damage between the group. “Ready?” Lyn asked. Everyone answered in the affirmative, and she took the lead as they descended the stairs.
Each step she took raised a small puff of dust, and as they went deeper, the stairs switching back and forth as they went down, the stench of decay grew stronger. Lyn spotted no traps, but there was an odd, tingling sensation that tickled her spine and gave her goosebumps. “Something is off,” she said as she stopped abruptly.
“What is it?” Gael asked.
“I don’t know…something just feels…wrong.”
Thomas muttered a spell under his breath. As he stared ahead, his vision seemed unfocused. “I sent out a divination sensor,” he muttered. “I can’t hear anything next to my body. Just hold tight and I’ll tell you what I see.”
Lyn gestured for the twins to flank her sides so that the trio filled the staircase. Lyn heard an odd, trickling noise. “Do you hear that?” she asked.
“I do,” Vael replied. “It sounds like water dripping a short distance.”
Thomas took a deep breath, prompting Lyn to look back at him. His face was white as a sheet. “What did you see?” she asked.
“There’s…I don’t know how to describe it.” He shook his head, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“What. Was. It?” she asked again, emphasizing each word.
“A writhing mass of decaying flesh and matter that appears to be docile,” Thomas replied as if he was rattling off a memorized answer from a textbook.
“Sounds gross,” Gael said as he looked down the tunnel.
Lyn continued her descent, and after traveling a hundred feet down from the surface, she saw what Thomas had mentioned. The stairs ended, and a short hallway extended, but blocking the hallway was a pulsating, throbbing membrane of flesh and ichor that stank to high heaven. There was more hallway behind the…thing, but Lyn didn’t want to go anywhere near it. “What do you think it is?” she asked.
“No clue,” Thomas replied. “We can’t get around it, and I’m unsure what would happen if you struck it.”
“Let’s find out,” Vael replied as she reached into her hip pouch and pulled out a smooth, round rock. Setting down her spear, she pulled out a length of leather and swung the sling rapidly before launching the stone into the fleshy mass. It quivered as the projectile impacted it. “Hmm. No response.”
Lyn took a few steps forward, and when she had closed to within five feet, the mass shifted in place and turned to her. An enormous, toothy maw made of bone shards was topped by dozens of eyes. The amalgamation let out a pained, wailing roar and lunged at her. She stepped back and raised her shield as a spiked, bone appendage lashed out towards her torso. “It’s hostile!” she shouted as she held her ground. The creature was seemingly mindless, continuing its wailing as it stabbed several spiked bones at her. She deflected them with the shield easily enough, and parried a few with the short sword, but there were enough coming her direction she had to focus solely on defense.
Gael took up a position just behind and next to her, covering her left side and drawing some of the creature’s ire as he poked forward with his spear, piercing the hide of the creature as a black, oozing, viscous and foul fluid spilled out from where he jabbed.
Vael switched back to her spear and shield, joining Lyn on her right, and repeating the same actions as her brother. But one of the spiked bones lashed past her guard and pierced her armor and body enhanced skin. She let out a grunt of pain and backed off before she fell to her butt. Thomas knelt over her, “Shit. Don’t let it touch you! It causes necrosis!” He reached into a satchel, produced an inscribed scroll, and held it over the wound as he poured mana into it. The black lines that were crisscrossing her skin receded to the wound and a chunk of black goop spurted out before the skin patched over from the healing spell.
Lyn cursed under her breath as the assault continued. She felt her mana slowly but steadily draining. “This thing doesn’t get tired!” she shouted over the din of combat. She stepped to her right as a bone-spear lanced through where she was just standing – an enormous, ballistae bolt sized implement. She willed her weapon to switch to its spear form, and she picked up Vael’s Titansteel shield as she poked past its defenses. The blue lava seared the flesh where it touched, and the substance melted and sloughed off the body. “Lava doesn’t work!”
Gael raised his palm, “En ethiel an le / thalion min / an aglaro / a blasto nan govadhren / a i thalion en-aear!” a geyser of water surged out from him and slammed into the creature, causing it to be pushed back slightly.
“Perfect!” Lyn shouted as she willed her armor to recede so that her clawed foot was touching the now-wet ground. “Gael, retreat!” she shouted as she channeled mana into her foot. “Rista uin nin / vi thôr en lúg nórui / a guin vin barad ui / a rim hen nórui / an garnethan a chaded.”
Gael jumped back as blue and yellow lightning coursed out of Lyn’s foot, racing along the pool of water and coursing through the fleshy creature. It shrieked in pain as it locked up, the body seizing up. Lyn took advantage of the opportunity, tossing the Titansteel shield behind her and willing the blade to transform to the great sword form. She dashed in and carved away at the creature’s center of mass, slicing it in half vertically before she pulled the mana blade out.
The mass of flesh wiggled and let out one final seeming scream of pain before it lost its cohesion and turned to ash. Lyn was panting from the exertion and peered to the hallway past the creature. Another pair of double doors was on the far end; but they bore no inscription. She glanced back to the group, “Is everyone okay?”
Vael nodded as Gael helped her up, “I’ll live,” she said, “Thanks to the Knowledge hero.”
Thomas put his hand to his chin and pondered for several moments. “Why would this…thing be in between two doors, trapped down here? It was a living mass of some type, so it had to eat something to survive.”
“Maybe mana sustained it,” Lyn commented as she kicked aside some of the ashes. “Just like the mana wraiths above.”
Thomas shook his head, “I’ve never seen anything like that before. It…an abomination is the only thing I can call it.”
Lyn walked past the pile of ashes and approached the double door. She put her ear up to it and heard nothing past it. She tried the handle and found it to be unlocked. She pushed the door open and peered inside.
The room was well-lit by a series of floating, glowing globules. The entire space was an empty, circular chamber a few hundred feet across. Pushing the door open the rest of the way, she approached an inscription on the ground, written in concentric circles that wound in on each other. This…oh, cool! “Thomas, check this out!”
The Knowledge hero came into the room and joined Lyn, with Vael and Gael standing a few feet back. “This…oh, wow.”
“What is it?” Gael asked.
“A summoning inscription,” Lyn stated. “I think we know what the mass of flesh was now, Thomas.”
He nodded, “The bodies of the Elenthians, unable to escape.” He pointed to the ceiling, “Those mana wraiths were the ‘echoes’ of the Elenthians.” Then, he gestured to the inscription, “This is how they left Ghomar.”
Lyn knelt and touched the carved words in Elenthir. It’s ingenious, she thought. The Elenthians left behind their bodies to become ethereal entities. The inscription had several functions from what she could discern. First, it would remove the soul or consciousness from a mana core, releasing it to be able to roam without constraint. Second, it would remove the mana core from the body, and send it to a prepared location that was partly in the world, and partly extradimensional space. A Dungeon.
“If I’m reading this right,” Thomas said as he stood at the center and turned in a circle to read every verse, “The Elenthians took on a shapeless form. Pure consciousness – or soul if you prefer – that enabled them to travel…anywhere. They could still be out there, exploring the stars, or might be right here with us. Undetectable even with spells.” He shook his head, “I never comprehended this as a possibility.”
Gael spoke, “Could we use this?”
Thomas laughed and shook his head, “No. Their whole civilization had to have been here and channeled mana all at once. You’d need…Pff…Every person on Ghomar?” he shook his head, “This inscription is practically useless to us.” He looked over at Lyn, “Although…you might be able to activate it. If you had all the hero cores.”
Lyn frowned, “But I am not going to kill heroes that are living for their cores. Well, except the ones I was planning on killing. Cecily, for sure. But I don’t want to become an incorporeal spirit.” She paced around to a specific verse, “I’ve not seen this word before.”
Thomas came over and looked at it, “Ah, ‘Varedh’. that’s the Elenthir word for ‘extraction’.”
Gael walked over and knelt next to Lyn, “Couldn’t you make a spell that lets you pull out mana cores from people?”
“We already know how to do that,” Lyn replied. “But…what if…” she looked up at Thomas, “What if we replaced the mana core? If I had a dungeon core, for instance, I could switch them. Take any of our allied hero’s mana cores and swap it out?”
Thomas grinned, “It would give them versatility like what Misty and I have, since they’d be considered natives of Ghomar. And, when they died, they wouldn’t be trapped waiting for release. The downsides are they would lose whatever unique capability came with it, such as my ability to retain knowledge of anything I’ve read, seen, or heard. And, they would most likely not have Earth as an option.”
Lyn stood up and helped Gael to his feet. “Well, we have solved the mystery of where the Elenthians disappeared to.”
Thomas nodded and dusted off his hands, “They transcended their mortal coils and ascended to a higher state of being. No longer bound by physics or corporeal forms.” He chuckled, “What an experience that would be.”
Vael cleared her throat, “So that’s it? We came here for some books and an old room with nothing in it?”
Thomas turned to her, “Why? Disappointed at unraveling one of the mysteries that has lingered for all Ghomar’s history?”
“A bit. I expected some type of treasure.”
Lyn walked the perimeter of the room, tracing her hand along the walls. A small glimmer of light caught her attention, and looking at it, she saw a slight, blue hue around a small chip in the wall. Ah, the Rogue core indicating a trap. Why is a random wall trapped? She pulled Cataclysm and plunged the mana blade into the stone next to the trap. Channeling more mana into it, she saw the wall shake and shift before collapsing and revealing a walled-over tunnel. “Maybe there is some treasure,” she said as everyone looked to the sudden crashing noise.
Gael ran over and peered down the tunnel, “Why would they seal this off?”
“We’ll only know by exploring,” Lyn replied as she went down the tunnel.