“Considering your speed of movement,” Fontine begins slowly, “Would I be able to go back home and pick things up in the morning? I feel like I’ve run around the arena all day without a break, but it’s only been what, three hours since we left? And it’s nearly twilight already.”
“Ah, so it is,” the Other says while continuing forward. “However, there are things I’ll need to do since it is this time already, so I regret to say back to the capital would not be possible. But! Take this as a bonus for playing along and get a room at one of the inns and I’ll be back near daybreak. You can meet me at the trading post.”
The Other hands her several hundred gil, which would normally get her several nights at one of the better inns in the capital, or a single night at one of the high-end ones.
“Very well,” Fontine begins, putting the coins in a pouch. “Unrelated, but do you know about that Carl person from earlier?”
“Nope! But if you really want to know, the two from earlier are…” the Other says while looking around briefly, “over at the Angry Toad, which is next to a decent inn. Off in that direction if you’re comfortable heading there yourself. Here, take a sack of coins for drinks, it sounded like he was well known around here at least so this should get people talking.”
Fontine nods but has to control her expression and conceal her surprise as the Other throws her a small pouch of coins, which by the weight in her expert hands and the sound of it, contains several times the gil she was already given.
Briefly she considers asking the Other what he will be doing before remembering the warning her boss gave her. ‘Don’t ask for too many details and don’t ask what his plans are. The little bit you hear is to make you react, but you’ll be safe. The trouble is the knowledge you would get between knowing nothing about what he’s doing, and understanding it, is like he filtered it through something like a druid hive-mind. And no, that isn’t a thing and don’t give him any ideas about it!’
“Well, enjoy your evening then,” Fontine says while starting to turn away.
“Oh,” the Other interjects, “but the day is just beginning.”
Fontine raises her hand in farewell, while thinking, or rather hoping not to, think about what the Other said.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Other proceeds to a nearby shed, flicks his hands over the handle briefly, and steps over the threshold after opening the door. After stepping inside and closing the door to his lair yet again, he again moves his hand over the handle and opens it back up.
The Other steps out onto a veranda overlooking an intersection, half the world away from where he was just moments before. He smiles and takes in a deep breath while looking at the morning traffic. Turning back towards the attached apartment, he moves downstairs and out the back of the shop on the corner in this capital city and enters traffic.
Several minutes later he arrives at a heavily guarded compound that still had a fair amount of traffic going in and out. The reason for both, as well as some of the prosperity of the kingdom, is that a unique and low risk ‘dungeon’ exists here. Though, little do the denizens who frequent this place realize the dungeon is neither natural nor necessarily ‘low risk.’
The Other waves to one of the guards wearing a metallic rose bud next to the squat administration building. The Other flashes a small golden circlet with a bow and arrow at the guard.
“You’ve been expected sir, directly inside and to the left,” comes the reply.
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The Other simply nods with a neutral expression on his face and opens the door. After closing the door behind him he proceeds to the office at the end of the hall on the left, opens the door and walks inside without knocking. Seeing the empty office, he closes the door and walks over to the desk, moving a number of items on the mantle behind it, then gently presses down on the desktop. The desk and part of the floor quietly rise and rotate, showing a staircase heading down to the depths.
The Other makes his way down as the desk rotates back into place, his steps as eerily silent as the mechanisms at work. Descending takes him nearly five minutes in near darkness, with floors forming above him, as silent as spiders, triggered by the mantle above and the pressure plates on the steps.
Reaching the bottom the Other places a hand on a stone in the wall, opening up a door to a hallway. Two very pale and androgynous humanoids wearing light grey robes greet him on the other side.
“Welcome,” the one on the left begins. “The Elder is waiting for you.”
“The counsel sends their regards,” the second finishes.
“May their canines be ever sharp, and their lusts ever subdued,” replies the Other, “Lest I feel the need to educate them again.”
“We shall let them know,” the second says, bowing his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement.
“Five willingly and fifteen near death, seeking a bargain, in the last 110 years since you have visited this facility. We continue to leave clues of rogue elements to the Handbell family as needed,” the first supplies.
“Good. The Handbells should have received new weapons a short while ago, so exercise caution around their younger members should you encounter them. Your fate is in your own hands, as it were.”
The Other proceeds through the door at the end of the short hallway as the two make way and seemingly melt into the walls. He is greeted enthusiastically by a man in very clean and sharp looking leather armor, with a metallic red rose in full bloom fastened to the front of the armor.
“Greetings, oh Ancient Monster! Thank you for gracing us with your assistance this auspicious day!”
“Elder Clarkin. You haven’t changed much in the millennia since I’ve met you. Shouldn’t you be dying of old age soon? You’ve kept your people in line and they exude much more respect than you seem to give me.”
“But isn’t it fun being able to relax and trade verbal spars with those far inferior to you?”
“What’s wrong with the circle? It still seems to be operating just fine, but your message seemed urgent from what the man transporting Dust was saying," the Other state bluntly, ignoring the slight.
“That,” Elder Clarkin says, brow furrowed and complexion darkening. He slumps heavily in the chair and gestures to the couch and tea opposite him. “Indulge me for a moment, though it is your device.”
With a harumph, the Other sits opposite Elder Clarkin and grabs the cast mithril cup of tea offered.
“The greatest device ever discovered, allowing adventurers and military, and those brave enough to challenge the depths a peace of mind when asleep in mixed company,” Elder Clarkin begins, then changes his tone to one with more contempt. “Or as those plebeian adventures like to joke about it, the anti-** blessing from god. Threatened to be violated? Lighting bolts from nowhere fry whatever is trying to do the deed. Someone threatening violence unless you agree to it so they don’t get fried? They get teleported upwards until they are farther above ground than the tallest spire in the kingdom’s palace. Nearly all of the women and half of the men get magically branded, and only magical slavery will overwrite it. And it works perfectly!”
“It was a pain to set up and figure out materials to maintain it, so it should. What’s the problem then? It clearly hasn’t failed, else there would be panic in the streets.”
“This,” Elder Clarkin says, placing a recording crystal in the claw shaped mithril holder on the table between them.
A man is seen on his knees in front of a large plaque with elegant writing located in a round room, placing a dirty and torn robe at the base of the wall. The man is battered and bruised, with a crutch beside him and his left leg ending near his ankle. Weeping, he tells the plaque about how he had to kill a party member after defeating the monster that ambushed them which had already killed two others and wounded himself. One of those who died was his fiancé. The last member standing, noticing his situation, decided to take advantage of this disaster to fulfill a desire he had long suppressed.
“Damned Necro-…,” the Other spits out and pauses. “Your people are the ones who burned the clothes spontaneously at the end I trust?”
Seeing Elder Clarkin nod, the Other continues, “This may turn out to be a simpler fix than it would have been even a year ago. Have you deployed the Dust yet?”
“One of four barrels have been opened. I have been trying to find the best way to aerosolize it so that sufficient quantities make it to the lungs.”
“Wonderful,” the Other says in a dry tone. “Put that on hold. I’ll modify the circle. I need you to work on the mechanics of a device that will fill up a cup of water mixed with Dust to one part per thousand. Pedestal, stone cup, dispenser system, have the cup regenerate when the ceremony resets. May be best for the imagery if the dispensing occurs through the pedestal and into the cup, use earth magic to make the cup and seal it after enough fluid enters it or the cup is moved. We’ll sort out the details of compliance and timing later. You have four hours, call your people. Make sure you save the worst of them to test the limits of what you built.”
“Will do,” Elder Clarkin says, standing and moving towards a conspicuous candle stick on the wall. “How much liquid is enough at that ratio?”
The Other sigh-hums as Elder Clarkin pulls the candle stick down and rotates it, opening a door to a large room.
“A sphere about this large should do,” the Other states, holding his thumb and middle finger in a circle, slightly apart. “Plan on seven devices, and make sure the Dust-water is mixed either constantly or throughly before dispensing, it settles out. Have someone work on a few good excuses for the modifications. I’m sure this isn’t the first time this has happened, just the first one that we found out about.”
“Anything else?”
“Stay out of the bubble. The time distortion at the edge will shred your flesh and I will consider letting you heal on your own if that happens.”
“How pleasant…”