"Well,” said Vic, staring at Nessa in dissatisfaction, “that’s one lesson we could learn from this, I suppose. I prefer to focus on the positive.” He raised his glass of wine. “Which is that Sam and Harald both emerged victorious from the dungeon, replete with new classes and a drive to conquer the peaks of notoriety.”
Harald raised his glass with a grimace and finally took a sip. The wine was sublime. Smooth at first and then blooming with all manner of exquisite flavors.
“Hmm,” said Vic, nodding his appreciation. “You’ve been holding out on me, Harald.”
“No longer.” Harald stretched, leaned back in his armchair, and put his dismay at Nessa’s reaction aside. “So, let me fill you in on what happened.”
And he told them. The way the Demon Seed had driven him and rewarded him, what had transpired below on the 47th Level, how he and Sam had fought and died until Eclavistra had shown up.
“Eclavistra?” Vic leaned forward. “You’re serious? A second demon? At this rate you’ll be dragging a rag-tag crowd of demon royalty behind you each time you enter the dungeon.”
“She seemed in competition with Vorakhar,” said Harald. “I think she was trying to poach us, but was too aware of our skepticism. And she spoke about a celestial war taking place. That ring a bell for you?”
“Hmm, no.” Vic sat back. “I may sound erudite and use big words, but that’s merely my over-compensating for my humble upbringing. I’ve avoided studying anything that’s not strictly necessary for my continued survival with the utmost diligence.”
“A celestial war,” mused Nessa, running a finger tip around her wine glass. “The four angels in the aether have never shown much interest in their fallen sister.”
“Yes, true.” Vic considered. “But that was Eclavistra’s choice of words? ‘Celestial’?”
“Yes. Though.” Harald paused.
“…yes?” prompted Vic after a stretched out moment.
Harald glanced at Sam. “I may have seen an angel while Sam was fetching you both.”
The three of them simply stared.
Harald flushed and sipped his wine.
“May have seen an angel,” said Sam. “That’s what madmen or Essentialists say.”
“Luckily I’m neither. I most definitely saw one.” And Harald recounted how he’d been driven forth by the ten ashen walkers, cornered, and then killed the lot of them.
Now it was Nessa’s turn to interrupt. “You slew ten ashen walkers? By yourself?”
“I did, yes.” Harald desperately tried for nonchalance. “It was touch and go for a moment, but I managed to whittle them down with a little assistance from the haunt… and my newly acquired Artifact.”
“Oh fuck off!” said Vic, bolting to his feet. “Honestly, Harald, just go find a fetid cesspool and toss yourself right in. You saying you found an Artifact?”
Harald extended his arm and summoned the Dawnblade into his palm. It glimmered in the firelight, alien and beautiful.
“Well I’ll be damned,” whispered Vic.
Nessa set her glass down and rose slowly, as if scared of spooking the blade away. “A longsword? Harald, what does it… what does it do?”
“It’s only a Common Artifact,” Harald began, only to stop as Vic glared at him.
“Only, Harry-boy? When did you up and become a jaded prig?”
Harald snorted. “It gifts me a physical stat boost at dawn, and otherwise allows me track the movements of anyone—or anything—I’ve killed, back till the last dawn. I’ve not tried that power yet.”
“Fascinating.” Nessa hesitated, then extended her hand. “May I?”
“Sure.” Harald sat back and watched as the Bladeweaver stepped out into the center of the parlor. She angled the blade to stare down its length, then grasped it with both hands and raised it. Took a few languid slashes, then frowned and stared down its length again.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s beautifully balanced.” She returned it to him. “Perfectly so, just four inches beyond the hilt. Perfect weight, as well, but it looks to be made of stone… so strange. A beautiful weapon.”
Harald turned it about, admiring his find. “Thanks.”
Nessa took up her wine and sank back into her chair. “And Artifacts are supposed to be nigh indestructible. It should serve you well.”
“That’s my hope.” Harald dismissed the blade, loving the sensation, the fact that he now had a gorgeous weapon permently stored in his Cosmos of all places.
“Harry-boy.” Vic’s tone was long suffering. “You said something about an angel? As marvelous as your exploits killing ashen walkers may be—”
“Yes. Well, one of the walkers knocked over the bones on the shelf, revealing a code. Which I realized mapped onto the wall. Which unlocked a secret door, which led a long ways down to another room containing a well and nine haunt-lights.”
“Nine?” Sam stared at him. “Tell me you didn’t go in there alone, Harald.”
“So I went in there alone, and pulled off a perfect plan. It was neat, simple, easy. I grabbed the Aurora Veil that was hovering over the well, and made it back up to the secret passage—”
“Of course he finds an Aurora Veil on the 4th Level,” groaned Vic.
Nessa slapped his thigh lightly. “Shut it, Vic. Let the man talk.”
“And as the door was closing, I saw her. She appeared at the top of the stairs, two swords in hand—”
“Two swords in one hand?” Vic frowned. “Harry. How big was this angel? Or did she just have very—”
Nessa slapped his thigh harder.
“A sword in each hand,” clarified Harald. “She was staring at me as the door closed. Not angry, but fierce, like she was taking my measure. But the door closed before I could do anything, and then she was gone.”
The other three glanced at each other dubiously.
“You said she was an angel…?” prompted Sam.
“She had feathered wings?”
Sam nodded. “That would do it.”
“Feathered, not scaled?” Vic tapped his chin. “Interesting. Seeing as all the depictions of the Fallen Angel are positively draconic, given her being covered in billions of scales.”
Harald shrugged. “She was definitely an angel, and had this incredible presence to her. Like I said, fierce and martial but also elegant and wearing this beautiful white gown…”
“Harry’s in love,” said Nessa archly.
“The man sees just one angel,” replied Vic grinning, “and he falls head over heels for her.”
“An angel?” Sam sounded mystified. “You two ever heard of something like that?”
“On the 4th Level?” Nessa shook her head. “No. Deeper? Sure. There are legends. Lone raiders, lost or wounded, who spot her. Sometimes she helps, most often she doesn’t. But I’ve never met nor heard of anyone who’s actually seen her themselves. Just stories passed down. More myths than actual accounts.”
“Like sea monsters,” said Vic.
“There are sea monsters,” said Harald.
“True. Just like there is, apparently, a lonesome angel wandering the dungeon. Though I wonder why she came to take a look at you. Unless she was guarding that scale jealously?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“I don’t know.” Harald sipped and stared into the fire. “But just as Vorakhar or Eclavistra made an impression, so did she. She’s no lost lamb. I wouldn’t put it past her to be able to defeat one of the demons in battle.”
“Harald, you know nothing about battles,” said Nessa wearily.
“But Eclavistra did call it a celestial war.” Sam glanced around their group. “Maybe the demons are fighting her?”
“Who knows?” Vic gestured expansively. “We could conjecture all evening long, but that’s all it would be. Conjecture. What I want to know are the details of your classes. Your Actives and Passives. Share?”
Sam sat forward with a hard smile. “Why don’t you go first, Vic? Seeing as we’re all putting our cards on the first.”
“Oh, the kitty has claws,” drawled Vic. “Sure, I’ll share. I’ve nothing to hide. Well.” He pretended to consider. “Regardless. I’ve three Actives: Piercing Lance, which you’ve seen me use, Web of Steel, which is my flashy defense, and Aura of Cruelty, which you would think was a Passive, but you’d be wrong.” He pointed at Sam with a smile. “I have to actively choose to be cruel. My true nature is genial and meek.”
“Sure,” said Sam.
“Passives, I have Body of Steel, quite nice, but a bit of a misnomer, more like Body of Really Tough Leather at this point. Inherent Alertness, which really is nice and keeps me abreast of what’s happening in a fight, and Subtle Step, which is all about insidious positioning. Alas, I’ve only Ascended to my first Throne, so I can’t use any of them concurrently or for long.”
“That,” said Nessa, “is because you’ve spent all your scales on whores, drugs, and booze.”
“And what a glorious life I’ve led.” Vic shrugged, unabashed. “Nessa? Time to pull up your skirt.”
She clucked her tongue at him in annoyance. “Must you always be so crude? I have the same number of Actives and Passive’s as Vic, much is my shame. Actives I have Dance of the Zephyr, which allows me to strike multiple targets in quick succession and from unpredictable angles; Echoing Strike, which unleashes that white lighting flash that leaps to additional enemies, weakening them all; and Will of the Blade, which allows me to exert my influence across the battlefield, helping allies coordinate their attacks and enhancing group tactics.”
“Very nice,” said Vic, miming applause.
Nessa sighed. “For passives I have Blade’s Grace, which allows me to effortlessly parry most incoming attacks of a certain caliber or lower, and often offers me the chance to riposte. Harmonic Resonance, which increases my allies’ morale and combat effectiveness though my example in combat, and Veil of Aether, which weaves a subtle aura of protection around me, dampening the severity of blows that get through my guard. Satisfied?”
“Most impressive,” said Sam with a forced smile, sitting back.
“Well then. We’ve shown you ours,” prompted Vic staring at Harald.
“Sure. Well, I’ll start with my class.” And he told them in as factual and succinct a manner as possible. Abyssal Initiate, Abyssal Attunement, and Aura of the Aching Depths.
Vic let out a low whistle. “Abyssal Initiate? Harry-boy, that sounds dangerous. And to be clear, I mean that sounds dangerous to you.”
Harald raised his wine glass. “I’ve done all right so far.”
“I’m glad I agreed to stay,” said Nessa. “I can’t wait to test you in the morning.”
“Why wait?” asked Harald. “We could go downstairs now.”
“Because I’m exhausted,” said Nessa. “And would hate to accidentally cut your head off because I was yawning.”
“Fair,” said Harald. The wine was both warming him and making him feel deliciously fuzzy; probably not a good idea to practice now. “But I’ll welcome the opportunity.”
“Harald,” began Vic, watching him with lidded eyes. “You’re… I don’t think you quite appreciate the magnitude of what’s happened to you.”
“That’s what I was telling Sam.”
“I’m serious, darling. A Divine ranked Soul. The interest of demons and angels. A class so rare I’ve never even heard of it. Nessa?”
She shook her head.
“And during your first serious venture into the dungeon you somehow acquire an Artifact and ascend to your first Throne.”
“I’m aware,” hedged Harald.
“He’s aware,” Vic told Nessa. “I guess I need say no more.”
“What’s your point, Vic? And may I point out, Sam’s rank is Divine as well, and her Netherwarden Knight class is just as impressive if not more so than mine.”
“True.” Vic winked at Sam. “Well done, darling. But my point is this: the Mining Consortium took note of your gain in scales when you emerged. That alone will draw interest when the next Gazette is published. But even if you avoid their notice for a while longer, you will have to use your full abilities to defeat Yeoric. Which will blow the barn doors clear off any attempt to remain anonymous.”
“Like I said before.” Harald fought to keep his tone level. “My father was a neutral player. I’ll do the same.”
“And as I replied, your father was able to throw a lot more wealth and weight around. You’ve signaled a meteoric start to your career, but are broke, dear boy, and have only had a few weeks training. You’ll be seen as a juicy snack, and when it comes to such amuse-bouches, the main houses are always salivating.”
Nessa stirred, dragging her gaze from the flames. “What’s Vic is trying to tell you is that first you’ll be invited to join, and then you’ll be coerced, and then they’ll attempt to kill you.”
“Kill him?” Sam stared. “Are you mad?”
“Possibly. But yes. Rising stars are dangerous weapons in the making. The houses will either sake to claim your lethality, or ensure that others can’t use you against them. Especially if word ever gets out about your unique class and just how quickly you’ve grown in power.”
Harald considered, swirling the wine around his glass. “Is it worth losing to Yeoric, then?”
“No, Harry-boy, I’m afraid not.” Vic sighed. “First, Countess Sonora would be less than pleased, I would be in trouble, and you would find yourself not just losing your wealth but being forced into indentured servitude until you could pay off your debt to her, which, given the interest rates, would be never. Second, to what end? You can’t avoid the spotlight forever. Each time you enter the dungeon they’ll register your growth. Unless you mean to enter by means of the Iron Gate each time from now on?”
Harald considered.
“Harry, don’t be stupid,” said Vic. “The 1st Level?”
“Right,” sighed Harald. “So what do you advise?”
“I’m not quite sure.” Vic tapped his lips. “The best defense is an offense. You might single out a house in advance, and approach them first with your own terms.”
Sam frowned. “You’re saying we’ve no hopes of remaining independent?”
“Oh, you can definitely try. But eventually you’ll be dodging bruisers intent on showing you the folly of your ways, or straight-up assassination attempts. The moment you firmly turn down Thornvale, say, or Celestara, they’ll decide to remove you from the board altogether instead of risking your growing into a dangerous asset for a rival.”
“Great,” said Harald.
Vic spread his arms. “It’s Flutic, darling! A cesspit of politics and power, wealth and corruption! Where the greatest lineages and oldest bloodlines vie for scraps in the shadows of our city’s former glory. Ambition is the true coin of the realm, not scales; everyone is either useful or an obstacle, every political appointment a stepping stone to something grander, and the moment you cease plotting and manuevering you’re dead. Love it or leave it, you can’t pretend that our metropolis is anything but what it is.”
“And Countess Sonora?” asked Harald.
Vic subsided. “Countess Sonora. A precious rose amidst a hundred thorns.”
“She’s hardly harmless,” said Nessa.
“Oh, she can defend herself. But hers is a middling house, her rank that of a countess. She’s bows her head to Sir Gavriel Draken, lord of House Drakenhart. She can no more shield you from house politics than I can.”
“Well.” Nessa turned to consider Vic. “She could if Harald joined House Sonora.”
“Well, yes, obviously, but… hmm.” Vic considered. “House Darrowdelve will be dissolved once you lose your manor, for then you’ll have absolutely no ability to pretend to be of knightly station. Would you consider joining House Sonora?”
“I’ve no idea, and no urge to do so,” said Harald.
“What would be the benefit if we did?” cut in Sam.
“The benefit? Well, this is all assuming Countess Sonora would even agree to take you in. Most likely she’d have you join my little party in an official capacity.”
“He’s too hot for our group,” said Nessa. “We’ve been at this for years, and none of us have ever Ascended to our second Throne. I’m a Bladeweaver, which is rare, you’re a Rapier Regent, which is all right, but them?” Nessa shook her head. “They’re too unique to just be part of our murderous little clique. The other Houses would intervene.”
“Fair,” mused Vic. “Well, say she does accept your petition and makes you part of House Sonora. Of course that would come with steep obligations, and a loss of independence. You’d be serving her interests, because her interests would then be your interests. You’d fight for her, raid for her, and defend her against her many enemies.”
“In exchange?” prompted Sam impatiently.
“In exchange, you’d be insulated from the other main houses, though no doubt they’d try to poach you. But nothing overt, and if you declined, they’d simply leave you alone, because indirectly you’d have thrown in with Drakenhart. You’d be protected.”
“Protected.” Harald rubbed at his jaw. “But bound.”
“Ah yes. There’s no escaping that. It’s your conundrum, darling. You’re too weak to stand alone, but too promising to be left alone. You’ll simply have to pick your poison.”
“I see.” Harald frowned. “Well, I don’t have to pick it yet. I’ve some time before I have to crush Yeoric.”
“True enough.” Vic finished his glass and rose lithely to refill it. “But perhaps we could effect an introduction between you and the delightful Countess. I dare say you’d find her to your liking, Harald. Beautiful, young, fierce, and oppressed on all sides by wicked old men.”
Nessa snorted.
“What?” Vic poured the last of the wine into his glass then peered into the bottle dolefully. “Any more where this came from?” Harald shook his head, causing Vic to sigh dolorously. “But have I not described her accurately? She’s gorgeous, is our Countess Sonora. If you like the freckled, haughty, would-rather-die-than-admit-defeat kind of woman.”
“An introduction would be smart,” said Harald. “For Sam and I.”
“Agreed,” said Sam. “I’d like to meet her.”
“Well, she’s going to be at your auction early next week. She’s taken an interest in your estate, seeing as she’s wagered a substantial sum on your fate. Were you planning to attend?”
“I wasn’t,” said Harald. “I was hoping you could handle that for me. But if she’s going to be there, then yes. I could go.”
“Could go,” drawled Vic. “What a sacrifice.”
“In the meantime I’ve a mind to continue training, and would like to hit the dungeon again. But a little deeper. The ashen walkers don’t render enough scales and aren’t much of a challenge.”
Vic looked over to Nessa. “He’s all grown up, darling. We did such a fine job with him.”
“He’s only saying that because he has no idea what he’s talking about,” said Nessa, rising to her feet. “But tomorrow I’ll give you a real lesson, Harald. It’s time you had a genuine reality check as to where you’re at.”
“I’ve got an Active and a Passive now,” he protested. “And an Artifact.”
“Which will mean fuck-all if you run into something with half a brain.” Nessa drained her glass and set it down, then smiled sweetly. “Of course, you could prove me wrong. There’s just one way to find out, isn’t there? Good night, all.”
And she strode from the parlor.
“Uh oh,” said Vic. He glanced to Harald. “I’m afraid she’s more upset at you than I realized. Tomorrow is liable to be very painful.”
“We’ll see.” Harald frowned at the empty doorway, then turned back to the flames. Thought of the ten ashen walkers, of his victories in the dungeon. “It’s entirely possible she might be the one in for a surprise, not me.”
“Right,” said Vic, and then smiled broadly. “Someone wake me up early for once. This I cannot miss.”