[a brave young priestess' journal]
We are halfway between Far Reach and Northridge. I think I might have an inkling, Miss Journal, about why Stewart was upset, but I am not quite sure why he isn't anymore.
He knows I am not likely to sit still for him to woo. Not that it'd take much wooing at this point. Every time I close my eyes, I remember the feel of him in my arms. Look, Miss Journal, I can't help it anymore. He announced his intentions, and I would be an utter idiot and a moron to deny him.
Maybe I shouldn't close my eyes so much?
He is happier, though, and having our own mounts hasn't dissuaded him from riding beside me every chance he has gotten. Even now he sits beside me at the fire, doing his best not to read what I'm writing. Yes, Sir Prince, I am writing about you. [this last paragraph is barely legible because of pooled ink]
I shan't blot that bit with sand to ensure he can see it while I'm writing the rest. It will look terrible, but a writer's sand conceals a thousand crimes, is what my teacher told me.
In truth, I wish to return to Mister Travis so I can gain my level rewards and pick a new class. Each night, Sandwalker purrs her way through my dreams, inspiring my spirit and sending me visions of myself in armor, protecting the country that protects her children.
Inquisitor is the word she whispers to me between breaths. It feels like something heavy, and she doesn't do a thing to dissuade me of that, but I am stronger than I was and will grow stronger too. Oh, she's purring again.
I asked Travis to assign me the Soldier dungeon class next. I would like to get Tank eventually, but apparently he cannot assign that now without going through Soldier.
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The city was vibrant and active. Even with her soldiers, the people barely paid them any mind. Hilda was surprised that not even a dragon distracted the people from their daily work—though the children of Northridge rushed over to Penelope the moment they saw her.
Cries of "Dragon rides!" and "Pen! Pen!" rang out, and Hilda got to watch as nearly thirty children did their best to climb onto a living dragon's back and, for the most part, the dragon let them succeed. Part of her applauded these children, who could find courage in accepting as a friend a foe that would cause many to brown their armor in fear.
They walked halfway across the city square like that before Penelope dropped to her belly and tipped sideways. The view, of the laughing children tumbling free of her in a show of acrobatics that surprised Hilda, seemed so natural here to her alien sensibility. "You seem well-respected here."
"They remind me that even under all these scales and muscle, I'm still me." Rolling back to her feet, Penelope shook the dust of the cobblestones free and stood up again. "There's something weird going on, so I will need to ask you to give me a little time before we have our fight."
In all honesty, Hilda hadn't wanted to have the fight too soon after crossing the mountain. She knew she'd lost some muscle-mass to the journey and wanted to join Penelope in battle in top condition. That Penelope sounded worried about something made her curious. "That is understandable. What is happening?" By the time she asked her question, though, Penelope had launched into the air.
"She's going on an important mission."
A male voice, firm and young, shocked Hilda with the way it had simply appeared in her head. "W-What?!"
"Oh, yeah. I'm Travis—the dungeon. I'm glad you came back. Pen said you are an amazing warrior—Fife too—so I want to hire you and all your soldiers."
It was the weirdest tangent, and the voice made her a little uncomfortable with how it spoke and claimed to be the dungeon, but that had been her deal with Penelope. "We will need to negotiate prices, as well as somewhere to live and train."
"You'll want to live outside? Not in the dungeon?" Hilda's nod, seen through lizards and others nearby, had Travis continue. "Is within the current city walls okay, or would you prefer to be further out, within the new wall or even in your own fort?"
"A keep? You have your own fortifications?" It surprised Hilda. She had heard some holes—dungeons, she told herself to think—had structures built around them by their minions, but a large defensive structure was something new.
"Two, sort of. One is to the south and is the main entrance to the city from that direction. The only guards there now travel from the city to it, though it will be getting further developed. The other is to the south-east, and it's the secondary entrance of Breeze, the other dungeon in the city. Both of us have two entrances."
Working her mind through the tactical situation, Hilda shook her head. "It's no wonder Astrid never broke that fort."
"It has a bonus. It doesn't count as my area, so I can't talk to you there. You will be your own people, with Breeze's entrance to bring you back here quickly if you need to. I would suggest discussing with Breath of Spring, the dryad sitting on the wolf over there, what you could do for each other—she's Breeze's boss."
Seeing Fife and Breath of Spring together, Hilda realized where she'd seen the both of them before. Her eyes narrowed and her breath quickened. "The warrior who fought my sister when she died."
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"Her name is Fife. She— Sorry, I need to focus my attention elsewhere for a moment."
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[A Few Moments Earlier]
Grappling to get his voice under control, Travis focused down from the others, after apologizing, to explain to Elanor—who hadn't heard him. "I just got a strange quest. It said the King has entered the dungeon and to kill him."
"Hold on!" Elanor stopped everyone moving so she could focus on the exact wording. "I need to ask Mr. Travis something important. Mr. Travis, can you repeat that to all of us here?"
"When the Prince stepped inside my entrance, I had a quest appear that said"—Travis focused to recall the exact words—"'The King has entered your dungeon. Kill him to gain an extra floor.'"
Stewart, surprised at the rich, young voice that spoke in his head, blanched white at what he was being told. "You are Travis, the dungeon, correct?"
"Yes."
"And you identified myself as the king of—" He couldn't finish it. Stewart looked around. "We have to return. We have to go back to the Capital as soon as possible!" Even saying it made Stewart realize he had a way to verify it all. Calming himself, he changed his order. "First, can you take me to the middle of the city?"
"Right." Elanor turned to look at the city guards and gave them the best smile she could muster under the circumstances. "Can you escort the Prince to the city center?" When they nodded to her, she stepped up beside Stewart and offered him her left arm. "If you need to, lean on me."
It was ridiculous for Stewart to even think of leaning on Elanor, but he took her arm as a courtier would the woman he was pursuing and let the guards lead the way. They left Travis behind in short order, and the moment she stepped into the city, she felt the truth of Travis' words.
Northridge itself felt somber, but that wider entity, the kingdom itself, was in mourning. Pain stabbed at her and she found herself leaning against Stewart. What was worse, when she looked up at his face, she knew he felt it too.
Feeling the pain of the kingdom more as he neared the heart of the city, Stewart recognized its mourning. He, like his father before him, had a bond with the kingdom's genius loci, but for all Stewart's life it had been a small thing, a sliver of a connection that merely reminded him that he had a duty to grow into. Now, that sliver was a rushing river. The kingdom lamented the loss of his father, but in him it knew it had a strong new leader.
What completely stunned Stewart was that the woman beside him shared a link to it too. She was a blazing light of the kingdom's focus, and right now that focus was him. When he stepped into the city center, and a bond formed with the city—and then every city within the kingdom, Stewart fell to his knees and wept on the cobblestones.
About to kneel too, Elanor felt the spirit of the kingdom strengthen within her and grow. It had a plea, it needed help. "We have to go to the Capital. Your father didn't die, he was killed."
The words, laden with the kingdom's power and that of a god, hit Stewart hard. He felt angry, furious even, and felt the kingdom itself fan the flames rising within him. "How can I get to the Capital the fastest? Do you have any—"
"Your High— Oh. Sorry. Your Majesty, Pen is coming, she has an offer."
Travis' voice in his head again surprised Stewart. More startling was how the kingdom's presence within him didn't object to it. "'Pen'?" he managed to ask before a dragon landed in the square before him. Stewart's hand already jerked toward his sword, and Harrow had fully drawn his, but Elanor's hand on his pommel stopped him. "Pen?"
Stepping between Stewart and Penelope, Elanor gestured to the dragon behind her with the hand she'd used to stop Stewart drawing his sword. "This is Lady Penelope, dungeon boss of Mr. Travis. She is a friend."
"Trav says you need a ride?" Having no idea how to address a prince, let alone a king, Penelope went with I'm-a-dragon-deal-with-it. "I can carry two, three if none of you wear armor." She looked at Elanor significantly.
"Your Majesty," Harrow said, sheathing his sword, "take Elanor. Also, both of you wear armor. If someone killed your father, this is not something you walk into without some measure of protection. I'll ride back on a horse myself."
"Ripper could carry me," Elanor said, then tilted her head up to the sky to see where her friend was. "Ripper!"
Ripper had been lounging on one of the mid-height ledges of the tower. After finally getting home, she had hoped to spend some time relaxing before returning to action—but hearing her mistress' call had her scrambling.
The air was buzzing with excitement. She could hear her dungeon home giving a multitude of orders, but none of those were for her. She crashed down beside her mistress and leaned sideways.
A wyvern leaning against Fife might not move her at all, but Elanor stumbled a little to the side before bracing enough to hold back Ripper. "You could carry me if we go flying, right?" Another shove got a laugh from her. "Of course you could. Stewart, the kingdom is furious. If I'm going to be its weapon, I will be there with you."
"If you're all going back right away," Travis said to Stewart, Harrow, and Elanor, "let me provide you with some better equipment. Tinpot has some improvements on the revolver design, Axel has a revised version of Elanor's armor, and your choice of swords."
"Thank you, Mr. Travis. I'm afraid I tested out the armor and it does stop bullets, though the plates get a bit warped." Holding up the sleeve of her duster, Elanor was also glad she would get to swap the coat for a new one. "You have things in their sizes?"
"Close enough to fit them. We also made your equipment to allow for a little extra muscle growth."
The cloak, Stewart had to admit, hid that well. From the time with their armor off on the cot they'd shared, he could remember the muscle she was developing all over. "How soon can we be equipped and leave?" He used words to cover for the moment he spent recalling that time.
"Elanor can bring you back to my entrance, and from there I'll have Tinpot lead you around. He has some revised pistol designs. Though he's been spending most of his time working on his new workshop equipment." Travis turned his focus to Penelope as Elanor, Stewart, and Harrow made their way back toward his entrance. "Pen, how far do you think you can carry them?"
Walking slower toward the dungeon, Penelope reached out with one wing to give Ripper a little head-rub. The wyvern fell in beside her and they walked together. "I can carry two of them all the way there, but I worry about what kind of reception a dragon will get in the Capital."
"You'll have to put them down outside, then. If you can make it all the way, though, it would make the new King grateful to a dungeon, its boss, and all the others living within."
Laughing at his tone, Penelope nodded her huge head. "How did all this start, anyway?"
"A quest."
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