The only thing that Theo could say about the Silvarians was that they were the least elvish elves he could think of. In his previous life, he had familiarized himself with thousands of concepts relating to them. At one point, half of all projects Theo was involved with—along with their competitors—had elves. Back then, he was one of many who had complained about how bland and identical they seemed to all other depictions. Now, when he least wanted it, he had gotten his wish come true: something different.

After escorting him and Liandra down the stem of vines, the elves had taken them directly to their home: a network of tunnels beneath Vinewood. The tunnels were neither elegant nor refined. Theo felt he would have done a much better job designing them; for that matter, he thought that moles could have done a better job.

The only source of light was a small crystal shard that one of their captors carried. It did a good job hiding the surroundings, but even it couldn’t completely hide the mess and filth all around. And it wasn’t just a case of dirt and the occasional rotten root here and there. Walking through these tunnels was like walking through a badger’s den. Rags, leaves, even rodent carcasses were visible every few steps. Theo didn’t even dare look down each time something crunched beneath his feet, out of fear that it might end up being exactly as bad as he imagined it.

“I take it you don’t get out often?” he asked, trying to make light of the situation. Liandra’s quick glare suggested that starting conversations might not be the best idea.

“Why do we need this scum?” one of the elves asked in what Theo assumed to be elvish. Having the ability to understand all languages was definitely useful, though it made it impossible to determine which language was which. “Look at him? He’s just a waste of sun!”

The description was no doubt exotic, though created the unmistakable impression that it was an insult.

“What the prince wants, the prince gets,” the more important elf said. It was clear that he didn’t want to discuss the matter further.

“Spok,” Theo said back into his main body. “Anything special I should know about Silvarian princes?”

“Other than that they are elvish royalty, there isn’t much I can tell you,” the spirit guide said as she ran through the numbers written on a rather large scroll.

With all the adjustments going on, Theo had left her to deal with the trivial things such as ordering materials, paying, and having them be transported to the respective “warehouses” along the town wall. Spok didn’t hate the responsibility. She even found it fulfilling, if it wasn’t for the minor matter that she couldn’t leave the dungeon. Thus, she had to resort to “appearing” in the appropriate structure at the appropriate time, or rely on Cmyk to pass on written instructions.

“They are rather elusive, extremely demanding, and powerful enough to have kingdoms take them seriously,” she continued.

“That’s it?”

“They are said to be extremely snobbish and refined.”

“If that’s the case, this one must have fallen on hard times.” The dungeon creaked.

The elves did a good job walking through the maze of tunnels. Any normal person would have been helplessly lost three times over. Being a dungeon, though, allowed Theo to memorize the way out without issue. In fact, he had become so bored with the constant turning around aimlessly that he was on the verge of asking them to just take them to the prince and be done with it. After twenty minutes of walking, the elves finally did, arriving to the first and only door the underground had.

“Do not address the price,” the elf with the command bracelet said. “And don’t try any magic.”

“Of course,” Theo flashed a wide smile, while on the inside, he was all but shouting in annoyance. “How am I to address him?”

The question was meant to be innocent, but it caused the entire elf escort to turn around and stare at the avatar. To make matters worse, Liandra joined in as well.

“Everessence,” the lead elf said at last. “You’ll address him as his Everessense.”

Catchy, Theo thought. All of a sudden, he felt a sudden urge to rename his rabbit to that. The name was far better than Maximilian. Unfortunately, thanks to Spok, the critter had accepted its boring name already.

Knocking twice on the door, the lead elf took a step back. Both parts of the door swung open, allowing them entry to a vast chamber. All hopes that at least the royal chamber would show the splendor worthy of a royal were quickly dashed. While definitely a lot cleaner, the chamber remained a very large hole in the ground. There were no statues, no glowing plants, or streams of shimmering water. There wasn’t even pavement on the ground; nothing but a small mound with what could pass as a throne on top.

Over a hundred elves were stacked in the chamber. Most were guards standing on the far side of the chamber or at the entrance. A few dozen, though, were at the base of the mound. The more intricate design of their clothes suggested an effort to portray themselves as high-class nobility. The attempt completely failed, mostly due to the massive amounts of dirt and talismans on top. Even the figure on the throne looked more like a beggar king than an actual ruler. It was difficult to believe that this bunch of individuals were held in such high regard by so many kingdoms. Then again, tradition was said to make people act in strange ways.

“I bring the mage and the hero, Everessence,” the leading elf approached the mound. He was talking in elvish again. “Their airship is held firmly, and the people inside are too weak to fight. I—”

The figure on the throne raised a finger, making the elf instantly stop. With a low bow, he stepped to the side, joining the other “nobles” in the chamber. The guards close to Liandra and the dungeon’s avatar moved away, giving them more than enough space to walk about. Only the second elf with a command bracelet remained close to them for a few moments more, after which he too went to the nobles.

“What’s his problem?” The avatar whispered.

Liandra didn’t respond.

“I see you have dimensional rings,” the figure on the throne said in human. “Don’t use them. I wouldn’t want the hall to get dirty.”

This is clean? Theo wanted to shout. Even Lord Mandrake maintained a better stronghold, and he was an insane gnome with delusions of grandeur who kidnapped whole villages to build his world conquering fleet of goblin airships.

“Why did you fly over our domain?” the prince asked.

“Everessence, our goal was not to—“Liandra began, but was quickly gestured to stop.

“I want him to say. Our seers said he was the one who brought the airship here; an airship coated with demon anti-magic alloy capable of piercing our shrouding spell.”

Theo was moments away from opening the mouth of his avatar when the end of the sentence gave him pause. There had been a shrouding spell? The dungeon had no idea precisely what that was, but he could tell that piercing it was bad.

“Spok, out of curiosity, what is a shrouding spell?” he asked back in Rosewind.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that, sir.” The spirit guide sighed. “You are pretty well known at this point.”

“Spok…” the dungeon pressed on.

“A shrouding spell is a fancy way of calling a massive illusion. It can be cast on a person, but usually is cast on buildings or areas. Unlike common illusions, shrouding spells draw energy from the area they are cast and can remain in effect indefinitely. There was a time when dungeons used them to hide behind a false guise of a hill, or an abandoned castle, or a field of corn. It has its uses, but is annoying to maintain.”

“In what way?”

“Just because a dungeon grows, doesn’t automatically mean that the shrouding spell does as well. It has to be maintained, and the larger the area, the more energy it requires.”

“I’m waiting,” the prince said in the underground chamber, with an icy edge in his voice.

“It was completely by accident,” the avatar said.

Silence filled the room. Three generations of elves started, unable to believe their ears. This wouldn’t be the first time someone had lied to the prince, but never in such an audacious fashion.

“By accident?” the elf ruler could only repeat.

“Well, you see, the airship isn’t mine. I just took it from a gnome overlord who wants to take over the world. In fact, I was on my way home from the Mandrake Mountains to try and stop him, when… well, you stopped me. I never saw the shrouding spell, but will be willing to pay any damages so you can repair it.”

Now it was the prince’s turn to open and close his mouth without saying a word. There were so many things wrong in what the avatar had spewed that he didn’t know where to begin. The cogs in his mind made a few hundred revolutions in an attempt to combine all of his grievances in one elegant package. A few seconds later, it became clear that such a feat was impossible even for an elf price.

“No one is supposed to see a shrouding spell,” the elf said at last, choosing to tackle that topic first. “The entire point is for it to keep us safe from outside meddling. And I don’t want your pittance. Our mages are already preparing to deal with the damage you caused.”

“Maybe tell them to wait for a bit, so that we don’t pierce it again when we leave,” the avatar said.

The remark was meant as a friendly suggestion, but had the opposite effect. Even darkness was not enough to hide the blood rushing to several of the elves’ faces. Fortunately, the prince wasn’t among them. In one brisk action, the elf ruler stood up, then made his way down the mound until he came face to face with the dungeon’s avatar.

From up close, the prince seemed a lot older than Theo expected. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on the elf’s face, yet his skin seemed thin, almost stretched, as if someone had tried to put a mask on his head. It was the cheekbones that gave the appearance of age, that and the almost V-shaped chin. A necklace made entirely of amber talismans was visible round his neck, semi-buried beneath layers of once expensive clothes. The most unusual feature, though, remained the eyes—clear and flawless, like green marbles.

“You claim to have come from the Mandrake Mountains,” the elf said.

“That’s right.” The avatar nodded.

“How did you get there?”

“Excuse me?”

“No one lives near the Mandrake Mountains. No one goes there. But if you are to have come from there, you must have gotten there before that. I want to know how.”

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The question shouldn’t have been at all difficult. Theo couldn’t forget the unfortunate chain of events that brought him here if he tried. At the same time, he was fully aware how ludicrous it sounded when said out loud.

“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. “I’m sure Heroine Liandra can explain it much better than I.” He looked in the woman’s direction.

“I’m not asking her, I’m asking you.” The prince narrowed his eyes. “Heroes do what heroes have to. Mages, however, must follow the rules.”

That didn’t make much sense, but even if it did, it wouldn’t matter since Theo wasn’t a mage. Still, the best course of action seemed to be to play along.

“We were sent on an important mission by Earl Rosewind, when we were attacked by a flock of flying goblins.”

The prince tilted his head to the side.

“Flying goblin gliders,” the avatar quickly corrected. “They brought us to the Mandrake Mountains. So, that’s how that happened.”

The lack of details didn’t go unnoticed. The elf glared, then squinted, then turned around, slowly walking to his throne. Every step he made echoed in the chamber, despite the ground being earth. Just before reaching the throne, the prince briskly turned around again.

“Your airship can’t leave,” he said. “Your people will be fed, you’ll be treated as…” he paused, searching for the word. “…visitors, but you won’t leave Vinewood.”

Oh, come on! “Might I ask why?” It was Theo’s turn to become inquisitive. Not to mention he didn’t like the thought of having a thousand people kept in a giant tin can. The gnome had made sure to include toilets on the carrier, but the water was a limiting factor. Any more than a week and the situation would only be described as indescribable.

“You broke the sacred trust, you broke the shrouding spell, you won’t tell us how and why you got to the Mandrake Mountains.” The prince waved his hand while talking. “What did you expect would happen? You come here with a hero and an army and yet claim it was an accident.”

Back in Rosewind, several buildings creaked. Even the town wall was seen to crack up in a few places before the cracks mysteriously vanished.

From where Theo stood, the accusations were ludicrous. When the elf said “an army” he clearly hadn’t seen the people inside. The villagers were in such a state that they’d have difficulty capturing a chicken coup. And as for Liandra, sure she could probably take out a few dozen elves without breaking a sweat, but for some reason, lacked the will to do so. The dungeon hadn’t known her for long at all, but hadn’t seen her in such a quiet state since he was summoned to Earl Rosewind’s palace.

“Spok, how bad would it be if I beat up an elf prince?” Theo asked in his main body.

“I wouldn’t advice that. The elves were instrumental in helping the deities during the war against the demons. For that, the entire race was thrice blessed by the top three divines. Circumstances matter, of course, but in general, open wars against them are avoided. Since there aren’t that many, it's much easier to convince them using financial or other means. For the most part, only evil overlords, tyrants, and dungeons get into fights with them.”

“I am a dungeon,” Theo grumbled.

“I thought you were keeping that a secret, sir.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the hassle.”

Beating the pompous elf into submission was out of the question. By the looks of it, the Silvarians weren’t terribly interested in gold or material possessions, either. That severely limited all bargaining options. And yet, there seemed to be something strange. As furious as the prince was, he didn’t seem in a hurry to throw them in the local equivalent of a prison.

The dungeon waited for a few seconds to confirm his suspicion. Nothing happened. The prince sat back on his throne, remaining silent, as if waiting for something. This was all the confirmation Theo needed. Now he had a pretty good idea what was going on.

“You’re going to keep all of us here?” he asked, testing the waters.

The aim of the question was to let the elf guide Theo towards the real topic of conversation. The dungeon knew the approach quite well: paint a terrible picture, then offer the means to resolve it. The request was no doubt going to be bothersome, but preferable when compared to the prospect of remaining as prisoners in the forest.

“You definitely,” the prince said without questions. “The heroine will be released. Since she didn’t break the trust, she can return to the hero guild.”

So that’s why you didn’t let her talk, Theo thought.

That was sneaky, almost as if the prince had legal training. It also meant that whatever the request was, it involved Theo specifically.

“Spok, any chance anyone can see I’m a dungeon by analyzing my avatar in some way?” the dungeon asked. “Using some identify spell, for example?”

“I’m not sure.” The woman teleported herself to one of the warehouse sections of the dungeon. There, she opened the door, handed a large pouch of gold to a well-dressed merchant, and instructed him to have all his merchandise brought inside. Not waiting for a response, the spirit guide then went into the backroom of the building and latched the door behind her. “The concept of a heroic avatar is unique. I doubt there are any spells that have been adjusted to recognize that. After receiving your heroic blessing, the avatar is virtually a separate entity. Maybe the easiest way to describe it is to say that you are constantly possessing your avatar without actually owning it. If someone were to try and identify your abilities, they would only see those of your avatar.”

“Hmm. Thanks, Spok.”

Theo took a peek.

Baron Theodore D’Argent – Heroic Dungeon

Level: 9

Strength: 50

Speed: 40

Mind: 69

Energy (Health/Mana): 27500

Free Core Points: 11,954,971

SKILLS

Ranged Attack - MAX

Aether shield - MAX

Aether shield - ULTRA

Swiftness - 5

Arcane Identify - 1

Wound Heal - 1

Minor Bless - 1

Cleave Attack - 1

While the value of his mind earned a chuckle, there didn’t seem to be anything remarkable in his avatar. True, the core points were impressive, but they weren’t usable from this distance. Everything else ranged from mediocre to outright poor. The only impressive skill was the presence of an ultra ability, which Spok insisted to be quite rare.

“Is there anything I could do to resolve this misunderstanding, Everessence?” Theo decided to get directly to the point. “As I said, I’m a rather wealthy man and will be happy to pay any price in order to get my people free and on their way.”

The left corner of the prince’s mouth curved up.

“The seers say that you’re a rather talented wizard,” the elf said. “Exceptional, rather. In fact, they think you’re so good that you might be the one spoken in prophecy that will free us from our curse.”

Wait, what? Theo and his avatar blinked. This was not what he expected things to go.

During his brief existence in this world, he hadn’t come across any prophecies. For the most part, this was due to the fact that he was a dungeon. Dungeons were, at best, the neutral evil entities of the world. Psychologically, they were a combination of hoarders, ruthless businessmen, and geezers shouting at kids to get out of their lawn. From what Spok had explained, their sole drive was to expand as much as possible before inevitably falling prey to an adventurer or hero raid. Few tried to do anything of global significance, and when they did, it was in the vein of taking over a kingdom.

It had to be the heroic trait! That was the only explanation. Heroes, by definition, had to be entangled in all sorts of prophecies. When the goddess Peris had granted Theo the heroic trait, she had also made him part of that world.

Thanks, goddess, Theo thought to himself. He was definitely going to have some strong words with her on the matter.

“You humble me,” the avatar said. “I’ve nothing but a few—”

“You’re able to do things that you shouldn't. Only wizards of the highest caliber can shield their skills from my seers. But you haven’t done just that, but gone a step further.” The prince leaned forward. “If a normal person were to glimpse your skills, they’d be left with the impression that you’re a puny level nine mage and thought nothing of it. However, Silvarian seers aren’t just anyone.”

There were whispers among the nobles.

“You see, for all your cunning trickery, you made one fatal mistake. You didn’t masque your mana. From what they were able to tell me, your mana capacity exceeds the common wizard a hundred-fold.”

The whispers turned into murmurs. Even Liandra looked at the avatar in a new light. It had been obvious that he was stronger than he pretended to be, but even she didn’t expect him to be a hundred times stronger than the average mage.

“And let us not forget you’re a hero in the making,” the prince added.

“Oh, you saw that…” the avatar mumbled. That was one thing he had hoped would remain hidden.

“As I told you, Silvarian seers are extremely good at what they do. Maybe you coming here was indeed by accident, maybe it was planned. Either way, it was prophesied.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Everessence. There are many other heroes. Maybe it was Liandra who was prophesied to lift your curse?”

“You are correct,” the prince admitted. “It’s something that I considered. And it would have been true if the prophecy didn’t mention that the person who would lift the curse had to be a wizard. You’re not the only one who my seers focused on. The heroine, while extremely impressive, didn’t have the mana of a wizard’s apprentice. There’s no way it could be her. Not yet, at least.”

There pretty much ended the argument. Theo knew when he was beaten. Resisting at this point was only going to make it worse. It would be far better to accept the unfortunate turn of events and get this done as quickly as possible. After all, there was always the possibility that the task was something trivial. Although, the way things were going, it most likely wasn’t.

“If I were the one who’d lift the curse, what would I have to do?” the avatar asked cautiously.

“It’s quite simple,” the prince said. “You must go down to the heart of the Vinewood forest and claim its core.”

“Vinewood is a dungeon?” The avatar gasped. This was one twist that it hadn’t seen coming.

“Dungeons aren’t the only things that have cores,” the elf hissed, making his hatred of the entities apparent. “The core is the living heart and blood of the forest. All the trees are connected. Their roots form one giant tapestry that goes deep underground to the source of their energy. I want you to go down there, find the core and bring it here. That is all.”

The elf was right—the explanation was rather simple. In Theo’s experience, that usually meant that the execution would be annoyingly difficult.

“Just dig it out?”

“Naturally, the Vinewood will do everything to protect its core. As I said, it’s the living heart and blood of the forest. Without it all the trees will die and wither away. Of course, it’s nothing you won’t be able to handle.”

“I see…”

“Don’t be alarmed. I have no plan on destroying the forest. I just need its core for a few moments to hold a ritual. After I’m done, I’ll have the core returned to its rightful place.”

That sounded better. At least Theo wouldn’t have to worry about being a forest killer. On that note, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to create an aether generator for each of his gardens. So far, he had transferred energy to them directly. Having a source of mana linked to their roots would be a splendid idea.

“Do I have to do it alone?” The avatar gave Liandra an obvious glance.

“The hero is free to help you, if she so wishes. However, if she does, she’ll have her guild to answer to.” The prince straightened up, becoming a lot more formal. “Will you agree to help the wizard, knowing the dangers or consequences you’ll face?”

“Yes,” the woman replied. “We’ve been through a lot already and we’ll be through more. The later he gets to Rosewind, the more the town is at risk, and not only it. I’ll gladly accept the task of helping him.”

“Very well.” The prince clapped his hands. “You’ll be given food, drink, and any equipment we can spare. Rest now, for tomorrow you set off to find the core.”

That didn’t sound bad at all. Maybe some rest and relaxation was what the dungeon needed. With Spok dealing with things in Rosewind and his avatar allowed a night of feasting, he could enjoy a bit of well-deserved calm.

Suddenly, the sound of horns filled the air above Rosewind. This was extremely annoying, since the source of the noise came from one of the wall’s watchtowers.

“Royal messenger!” a guard shouted.

Theo looked through the dormers of the wall. Indeed, there was a rider approaching at full speed. At this distance, the only thing prominently visible was the blue flag he was carrying.

“Call sir Ribbons!” another guard yelled. “Get everyone at the main gate.”

“Spok… should I be concerned about this?”

Unfortunately, this was a question the spirit guide couldn’t answer. All she could do, along with the dungeon, was wait for the rider to approach the town gate.

“Where’s the earl?” the rider asked in a hoarse voice. Judging by his state and that of the horse, he must have been riding non-stop for a day at least.

“Earl Rosewind is hunting,” the lieutenant of the guard replied. “His son is here. I’ll take you to—”

“Send for the earl,” the rider cut him short. “I’ve a message from His Majesty. The earl is to fortify the town and prepare for an attack.”

“An attack? No one has attacked Rosewind since…” Sir Ribbons paused to think. By the looks of it, no one had ever launched a serious attack against the place.

“They are now. Three mage towers report a massive fleet of airships making their way towards the kingdom. Three countries have already surrendered without a fight. If this continues, the fleet will reach Rosewind in a week, maybe less.”

Theo’s core sank. The thing he had feared was about to happen, and far sooner than he thought.