“And that, your majesty, is the report we have received from the local International Dungeoneering Guild’s Guild-Boss,” said the majordomo of Sabak Imperial Hegemony with a bow.
“The Guild has stirred up quite the hornet’s nest, hasn’t it?” Replied His Imperial Majesty, Sequon Strongfang III from his wooden throne at the head of his council table. His clothes were functional, with little ornamentation aside from his golden crown, along with gold braids running along the centerline of his navy-blue jacket. “Calling in all of its strongest members, as well as the nearest Kingdoms and Empires from around the globe to help invade the Urstem Empire? It seems a bit far-fetched if you ask me.”
The Emperor pinched the bridge of his aged nose with a sigh. His Empire was the closest to Urstem, with roughly four-thousand miles of ocean separating their coasts. This was the first report he had that his old estranged ally had been utterly decimated, and even though it was coming from a reliable source, he was disinclined to believe it due to how ridiculous it sounded. At the moment he had bigger, better confirmed, problems to worry about, for the neighboring Steel Kingdom’s merchant guilds were getting uppity again.
Unlike the Urstem Empire, the Sabak Imperial Hegemony shared its continent with five other nations, the smallest of which was the Steel Kingdom. It was a nation of proud dwarves who inhabited the tallest mountains at the center of the continent, and were fairly good trade partners to the other nations on the continent. Their central location, as well as being a much easier pathway for trade to flow thanks to their well-guarded Underways that connected each of the nations, made them both rich, and arrogant. It also did not help matters that the continent’s restrained Grand Dungeon also lay underneath the mountains, which they capitalized on immensely.
Of the six nations, the Sabak Hegemony was the most technologically advanced, followed closely by the Steel Kingdom. In a clockwise direction, starting from the Northwest of the Hegemony lay the Sorcerous Republic of Bob, and then the Twin Kingdoms of Jäeger and Jäegerin. The last area, being strangely enough the largest, also hosted the civil-war-prone nation of Marsh Copse. Their last civil war lay ten years distant, one of the longest periods of peace in their entire thousand-year history.
“Guildmaster Throgard has invoked the An’kod Contingency, your majesty,” the majordomo stated with a wince.
“He has, has he?” Sequon sighed. He looked around the table, noting the faces of his half-dozen councilors ranging from resignation to eager readiness. “We are to simply pack up our entire army, sail it across the sea to invade Ur, place them under the command of whoever the Guildmaster picks from his Guild to lead them, all just to assist in killing a so-called Fallen Dungeon? Do we know how many other nations he has contacted?”
“I...” The Majordomo cleared his throat. “All of them, your Majesty. He sent the message to all of his Guild branches around the globe, and they’ve likely done the same as they did here.”
Emperor Sequon felt a bolt of electricity lance up his spine, his face betraying his concern for a moment before smoothing into a carefully blank expression.
“All of them?” The speaker was a grizzled old man sitting to Sequon’s right. He wore a dark blue Imperial Army uniform that had very little ornamentation aside from an orichalum wolf head with its jaws around a silver star, on either side of his shirt’s crisp collar. His close-cropped hair and small beard were both bright crimson in color, with a dash of white sprinkled within. His left eye was covered in an eyepatch bearing the same symbol as his collar, with a trio of scars running sideways across his face behind it.
“Yes sir.” As the majordomo replied, a courier burst into the room, apologizing profusely as he was slammed to the ground by the guards on either side of the door.
“Your Majesty! I just-hurk!” The courier was lifted upright, one of the guards having him in a chokehold. Sequon raised a hand and the courier was let go. He rubbed his neck gratefully with a wince, and bowed as he held out a sheaf of papers that bore the mark of the Courier’s Guild. “My apologies for bursting in, but we just received missives from our neighbors via communication crystal. An emergency summit has been called.”
The guard who had both tackled and lifted the courier gently took the papers after giving a lethal glare to the man, and brought them over to the Emperor who looked them over quickly. Each one bore the same message, simply addressed from the other five different kingdoms. He tapped the papers together into a neat and tidy order, and set them aside. He stood and turned to the man on his right. His advisors all stood up as well, as this was practically customary at this point.
“Joakim, prepare the troops for departure by the end of this week. The Contingency calls for all of them, but I have no doubt that if we were to commit them all then our neighbors will be getting rather unkind ideas. At most, I plan on sending half, I trust you to make sure they’re prepared.”
“At once, sir,” Joakim Redfang replied, his fist thumping over his heart in a salute. He turned and left the room and was heard immediately barking orders as he walked down the hallway, footmen rushing off to go spread the word to the various leaders of the Hegemony’s military.
“As for you gentleman and ladies,” Sequon started. “Miss Glimmerscale, we’ll require transports. Fast ones. I trust you know who to contact at the local port for this?”
“Aye, that I do, your Highness,” the golden dragonkin replied with a slight bow. “By sea will take several months, by air will take a mere few days, but is pricier.”
“Get with Joakim after seeing what is available, budget is of slight concern,” this got several chuckles. The Hegemony’s vaults were fabled for running deep, mostly due to generations of rulers who were known for their copper-pinching ways. Sequon was not as bad as most of his predecessors, but he did make sure not to spend frivolously. “I’ll also need you to work with Sir Pomme,” he nodded to his Head of Agriculture, “to see about supplies. An army cannot march on empty stomachs after all.”
“At once, sir,” she bowed again and took her leave.
The other ministers did not have as immediate directions that were needed, and were dismissed. The last one who still remained sometimes gave Emperor Sequon the chills.
“Your Highness,” came the raspy voice from within the dark brown hood. “A moment of your time?”
“You have it.”
“I have just received information of my own,” the figure said slowly with a sigh. The voice sounded ancient, like you had just opened a long-lost tomb. While Sequon did have other things to do, it always paid dividends to listen to a Reaper. “The Necropolis has fallen.”
To say the Emperor had a bad reaction to this information would be the understatement of the century. His Empire had been the one commissioned to build the mighty vessel’s propulsion systems, and it took nearly ten years of careful research and new technological breakthroughs to do it.
“What happened?”
“To that, I do not know, only that it happened suddenly. Its last known location was at the capital of Urstem. I humbly request passage for my Guild to travel with your forces, representatives from the other branches will be asking likewise on the other continents where we are welcomed.”
“Of course,” Sequon replied. “I only ask why, and how many you plan on bringing.”
“Two Divisions of Death Guard, as well as a regiment’s worth of clergy,” the Reaper replied with a deadpan expression. Sequon’s couldn’t help as his jaw dropped. “Our Guildmistress was on the Necropolis when it fell, this is the minimum we would send to her rescue.” The Emperor was not entirely sure if this was the full truth, but he decided not to pry. He would be having a serious talk with his spymaster after the troops were on their way. “In the information packet I recently received from before we lost contact with the Necropolis, the Guild was informed that many of our brethren who were watching over Ur’s resting places have gone silent.”
“These Divisions... they were all here in my country?” Sequon asked, perturbed.
“No, they will be drawn from all of the nations on this continent. The various Guild Halls in more peaceful areas will be left with a, pardon the pun, skeleton crew. This will be the biggest mobilization of our Guild in the last five hundred years, and I am afraid that we have few people capable of leading such a force on this continent. Any that would be able to are too far away and will be leading their own contingents.”
“Is this a roundabout way of asking if I had anyone in mind?” Sequon rubbed his temples. He received a nod in return. “I won’t make any promises, but I’ll see who I can get you. But, due to the Contingency, it is more likely that the International Dungeoneering Guild will have someone ready when we get there, since our forces will be required to be placed under their control.”
“That is acceptable, your Highness. My people will be ready by the time you return from the summit,” the Reaper bowed and disappeared into mist.
Sequon hid another sigh as he turned to look out the room’s grand window. It faced the sea, giving him a spectacular view of the major port of his country’s capital city of Sabak. Dozens of sailing vessels of all sizes lay at anchor either at the docs offloading and loading cargo, or in the bay awaiting their turn to exchange cargo.
Off to the side, a massive Airship Tower was busy servicing two dozen dozen airships, several of which were from his military, the rest various rich merchants. The armed ships occupied the upper layers while the merchant vessels were relegated to the central levels of the spire. At the base of the tower, massive steam-powered elevators ran continuously up and down along the sides, while several airships lay in various states of construction nearby, absolutely swarmed by shipwrights, engineers, and artificers. From the very top, a giant flag of his nation flew. Dark blue, with an image of a quartet of dark gray sideways wolves howling at a moon that was itself in the jaws of a forward-facing wolf with emerald eyes.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The town itself sprawled over two miles in each direction along the waterfront, with buildings ranging from the outright medieval to late renaissance in appearance, depending on how far from the waterfront one was. The older the building, the farther from the waterfront it was. Newer buildings were more monochrome, while the eldest was brightly colored, especially around some of the many trade-hubs within the city.
“The world is entering a new age,” he quietly said to himself, worried for the future.
===========================================================
Deep beneath the city that once was Urstem, a partially collapsed natural cave with a giant concave vein of gold that took up an entire wall was briefly lit by the presence of a portal. From it a cored golem carrying a trio of large leathery eggs gently trundled forth. The portal disappeared as soon as it appeared, though not without showing the apprehensive ghostly face of the newest Grand Dungeon.
“I can’t believe those damn marines had these on ‘em when they arrived here... You stay here, Guardian, where it’s safe. I’ll figure out what to do with you and those eggs later,” were his parting words.
The golem in question was small, about the size of a dwarf, and had four large arms. It was made from several types of stone, the stuff encasing its blue sapphire core within its chest cavity was made of starstone, the rest of the torso being made of granite.
Guardian trundled forward until it approached the rear of the golden deposit, and gently sat the eggs down on the ground, where they stuck fast to the rock, and pulsated slightly. The golem sat down and went into a sleep-like state, the gem glowing faintly. Gentle music slowly made its presence known as the dungeon’s area of influence slowly increased from around the golem, a soothing lullaby for the occupants of the cave.
The eggs lay dormant for some time in their safe abode, watched over by the silent golem. They did not know how long they waited, but eventually their slumber was disturbed by the presence of a young, somewhat malnourished and very feral purple dragon. It had been forcefully hatched six months ago when part of its nest-cave had collapsed on it, and had run from the nest to survive its larger siblings who had also hatched at the same time. Upon seeing a faint blue glow that illuminated a cave full of gold, its natural instinctive greed drove it forward, heedless of any possible danger.
===========================================================
The sound of hundreds of pickaxes striking ore nodes was a cacophony that Sequon could do without for the Summit’s meeting place. He, as well as representatives with their respective guards from the other nations on the continent of Saarland had arrived via fast airship three days after receiving the Summit notice. He looked around the meeting area, which was the third and last floor of the continent’s dungeon, and was impressed with how large it was.
The giant cavern was studded with various resource nodes, ranging from coal to iron, plus some precious gemstone nodes that were being mined by simple golems. Strangely, for a Grand Dungeon, there were no higher-tier metal nodes visible. At the center was a large pyramidal platform with a table, several chairs, and a tall throne. Large light stones made the room as bright as if it was outside, not several miles below the surface as they were currently.
“Did we truly have to meet here, of all places?” The ruler of the Sorcerous Kingdom asked as he looked around in disdain, though his eyes lit up a little as he spotted the golems. He wore dark blue wizard robes, with a tall, wide brimmed, slightly floppy at the pointed tip, hat. His long gray beard reached down to his knees, elegantly straight with various magical bangles attached within it. Beside him were two of his guards, both bedecked in crimson magic-enhanced armor and hoods that obscured their faces.
“Yes, High Sorcerer Bob, it is important,” replied a stocky, well on his way to going to fat, dwarf that was bedecked in jewelry. He led the gathering to a rectangular table that was set up with enough food to feed a small village on the far side of the table. Sequon internally cringed at the wonton display of gluttony, not to mention the clashing smells.
At the head of this table sat a throne with an incredibly obese dwarf sitting upon it. It was hard to say where the dwarf ended, and where the throne began. At the throne’s top lay a large floating azure crystal orb about the size of an adult human wrapped up in chains both physical and magical, the symbol for the International Dungeoneering guild prominently displayed in the center. Said dwarf was currently stuffing his face with a large turkey leg in one hand, and a barrel of ale in the other.
“Why did you call for a Summit, dwarf?” Asked the leader of the Jäeger Kingdom. He was a dragonkin, covered in various furs and trophies he had taken from his hunts, his scales were a dark green in color. As he and the others took a stand by their seats, he looked over the group warily. “I was in the middle of a hunt when I got the message.”
“As the message we sent said,” replied the fat dwarf phlegmatically as he paused his feasting. “The International Dungeoneering Guildmaster has enacted the An’kod Contingency. This means that every nation contacted, as well as all of their Guild Halls must send every single available soldier, and for the guild every member above Iron rank to help stop another catastrophe.” The dwarf took a phlegmy breath and raised a ring-laden hand palm-upwards as he tossed the rest of the turkey leg in his mouth, bones and all. He looked around the table, gaze settling on the leader of Marsh Copse for a bit longer than was polite. “We of the Steel Kingdom will be providing transportation for the Guilders with our best airships. We can also provide transportation for your troops as well, for a fee. We will be of course, sending our regiments of the Steel Guard. Two regiments of which are already under way via airship.”
“I have enough transportation for my troops,” Sequon stated from his standing position, not mentioning just how many troops he was willing to send. “But I thank you for the offer.”
“I am afraid my nation has no soldiers to send,” said the Queen of Jäegerin. She was a Dark Elf, wearing clothing fit for a rogue. A very well-to-do rogue at that, and absolutely covered in knife sheaths. “We have no formal military, merely a great many hunters.”
“Your hunter’s skills will be needed,” the dwarf stated, unconcerned. “I have received a new report that the Fallen Dungeon at the heart of this problem is no mere dungeon. It is a Grand Dungeon.”
This got various sharp intakes of breath, as well as one gasp from the Marsh Copse leader, from the group.
“The Guildmaster’s first team that went in suffered casualties,” the dwarf continued with a roll of his eyes. “Thus, the Contingency has been called. He was reluctant to share details on the status of the capital city of Urstem, but he did give us a little bit of information on its defenders. Expect little to no magic, advanced golems, and humans as defenders, all of low levels.”
“If they are of low levels, then w-” The Marsh Copse leader started asking.
“The gear of the defenders is more advanced than we currently have,” the dwarf interrupted with a nasally harrumph, reaching to devour a sweetroll before he continued. “I have already heard from the Forge Clerics,” he nodded to a trio of dwarves nearby who wore blacksmith aprons and brown robes. “The Gods of Forge and Industry are beginning to spread information around the world via their clerics to help us combat this new threat. Sadly, they cannot give us too much at once, but everyone should be seeing their collective technology levels rising decades further than we have now, in the span of a few short years.”
Sequon stilled his expression into an impressive poker face with this news. Forgemaster Ham should have told me about that before I left. He stole a glance at the Marsh Copse’s leader, who looked positively greedy. That human won his current throne thanks to the weapons he received from the Steel Kingdom, and I’ve seen reports of a possible quiet buildup along their borders this last year. If they acquire technological parity with us, it is only a matter of time before they look to their neighbors to distract the populus from another civil war.
“Anything else we should know?” Sequon asked after a pregnant pause.
“The Guildmistress of the Death Guild had accompanied the first team at her own request, and was not seen returning before the Dungeoneering Guild had to retreat to get the message out. Oh, and one last detail I forgot to mention,” the dwarf looked surprisingly smug. “The last information about the defenders that were sent to us were ‘a massive wave of undead, thousands strong.’”
“So a mostly undead-themed Grand Dungeon, huh?” The Jäeger ruler rubbed his chin in thought. “Isn’t there already one on the continent of Styx?”
“That is beside the point,” the dwarf replied irritatedly, inhaling another sweetroll and half a barrel of ale with a porcine snort. “How soon can your troops be moved?”
“By the end of the week,” Sequon cringed internally, looking at his fellow rulers. The Twin Kingdoms were allies of his, and they gave respectful nods at his words.
“It will take us some time,” the dragonkin began, still scratching his chin. “But by the end of the month I am reasonably certain we can muster up a few regiments.”
“Likewise,” the dark elf continued with a frown. “Between our two kingdoms, we should have enough skirmishers for this force. Are we to truly place our people in the hands of their Guilders?”
“Yes, to better have a more unified force against this dungeon.” The dwarf nodded violently, sending waves through his frame.
“I should be able to muster up several Divisions of soldiers,” said the Marsh Copse leader, his jowls flapping ominously. “But I am afraid I cannot commit more than two, due to national security reasons. They should be more than sufficient, however.”
High Sorcerer Bob looked at the gathering, thoughtfully stroking his luxurious beard. He did not say a thing, merely nodded along with the conversation.
“So why did you call for this Summit, exactly?” Sequon finally asked. “Aside from the dungeon informa-”
“Because your country is the closest to the continent of Ur,” the dwarf interrupted with a violent snort. Sequon calmed his rapidly rising sense of anger at this, but he would remember it for the future. “Airships must pass over your territory, and it is the most advantageous place to embark everyone’s troops. Thus, this Summit was called so everyone can negotiate passage far easier. We all are the closest, some nations will have to travel close to one-hundred-thousand miles just to reach Ur, some twice that.”
The other leaders looked as confused as Sequon was furious with this revelation. They all turned to him as he took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly.
“I am afraid I will not be able to allow this,” Sequon stated gravely, glaring at the dwarf. “For several reasons. Firstly, my cities would not be able to handle a sudden population boom that any army would bring. Secondly, allowing foreign armies into one’s ports without a formal alliance treaty is unacceptable. My people would riot, justifiably, and it would not be pretty. Lastly, a significant part of the Hegemony’s founding Constitution specifically disallows this. Jäeger Ashenscale, Jägerin Nightshade, if you require assistance in raising your armies, per our Alliance Accord, meet me at my airship before we leave today. High Sorcerer Bob I apologize, but our nations, while on generally good speaking terms, are not as close as our Constitution would allow for this.”
Sequon turned to the human, who was rubbing his hands together nervously. The Marsh Copse’s leader had sweat running down his bald head for reasons unknown to the Emperor, and positively stank of greed turned fear.
“I do not trust you, President Hugh, nor your people,” Sequon continued. “Luckily for you, the seas are calm around the coast this time of year. I suggest you make use of them while it lasts. As for you,” he turned to the dwarf who looked apoplectic. “Your already sent ships may be sent freely, as they are already underway. From now on, the Sabak Imperial Hegemony will require a fee of no less than one thousand gold per airship filled with troops that you send through our airspace, no matter how many troops are on board. We will escort them safely, and expediently, through our lands without stopping. Your combat-capable airships are barred for the duration of this crisis.”
With that, Sequon turned on his heels and began walking down the pyramid’s steps, his guards following. The dwarves in the area had all stopped their mining, and were glaring at the Emperor as he walked briskly towards the stairs that would lead up to the exit of the dungeon. The only sounds that remained were the sounds of the golems continuing their work, and the wheezing of the dwarven Dungeon Master sitting on his throne.
A new age indeed, thought the departing Sequon as he began making plans and backups for those plans.