“Of course,” said Harald, opening the door wide and stepping back so that the House Celestara warrior could enter. “Please, be welcome.”
The woman followed him into the first parlor, her gold sabatons clicking on the marble floor, and when he gestured to a large armchair she removed her striking helm and shook out her silver-white mane of hair, which cascaded down to frame a face that was far younger and more beautiful than Harald had expected.
She couldn’t be more than thirty, her eyes a pale gray so light that they almost faded into the whites of her eyes. Her manner was sober, self-possessed, her stare direct as she gathered her cerulean cloak over one arm and then sat, straight backed, to study him in turn as he moved to another chair across a low table from her.
“My name is Lady Yseult Khan,” said the warrior, her voice rich and coolly confident. “I lead one of Lady Celestara’s Gold-ranked strike teams, and have been Gold-ranked for over seven years now.”
Gold-ranked.
If anything, that made Harald sit up even more. That put her anywhere from Level 11 to 16, and with her being the leader of a strike team? Probably closer to Level 16.
Holy shit.
The things this woman must have seen.
Must have done.
“I’m honored, Lady Yseult-Khan,” said Harald, keeping his voice calm and collected. “My house is greatly impoverished, and I no longer have staff on hand to serve us the refreshments you deserve. If you give me a moment, however, I’ll fetch us something to drink.”
“There’s no need, Sir Darrowdelve. I’ve come to extend Lady Celestis’s regard. She knew your father only in passing. It seems he was not much interested in social affairs?”
“My father? No.” Harald smiled wryly. “He said very little I can repeat in polite company about politics and the Houses. He much rather preferred entertaining his friends and crew here at the house. That and raiding.”
“Indeed. Darius Darrowdelve is a name of some repute. A hard man, your father. I only crossed paths with him a few times, but he made an impression. He’s been gone four years now?”
“Four years, yes.” What was her angle? She was so poised, so collected, that even this small talk felt elevated and refined, coming from her. “He left one night in a rush for a raid, and never returned.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Lady Yseult, bowing her head briefly. “You must have been quite young, then. Fourteen?”
Harald smiled. “That an educated guess or the fruit of research?”
“Lady Celestis is thorough in learning about those who interest her,” allowed Lady Yseult with a complicit smile. “Though it seems you are still in the midst of change.”
“An auction is imminent,” agreed Harald. “I’m trying to make the most of what little I have left.”
“Wise. As well as engaging in delving for the first time.”
“That’s not a question.”
“It’s an observation.” Lady Yseult’s smile was subtle. “Lady Celestis prides herself in being aware of most matters in Flutic before they are common knowledge. She has access to the Dungeon Gazette before printed copies are distributed to the public.”
“Ah. Well, I’m flattered by her interest, though I don’t understand why my first raid merited a visit from someone as illustrious as yourself.”
“Surely you can’t be surprised? You are registered as entering the 4th Level via the Copper Gate with a total scale count of 1,024, and emerging two days later with a registered count of 11,040. Sir Darrowdelve, that’s almost a thousand percent increase, and indicates the Ascension of your first Throne.” Lady Yseult’s gaze was piercing. “Not only are you to be featured in this month’s Gazette for that remarkable increase, but Lady Celestis has percentage increases tabulated for all raiders who delved that prior month, and yours was, as you can imagine, head and shoulders above the next entrant.”
“Right.” Harald kept his expression neutral. Vic had warned him. The taxation officials wouldn’t care, wouldn’t cry foul, but the Houses would take note. “All blessings to the Fallen Angel. It was a most fortunate delve.”
“Indeed.” Lady Yseult’s scrutiny was unflagging, her gaze clear and focused. “But that’s why I’m here. Sir Darrowdelve—”
“Please, call me Harald.”
Lady Yseult paused, then inclined her head. “Harald, may I ask how you accomplished this feat?”
Harald felt his cheeks burn as he tried to think of a way to evade.
Lady Yseult obviously noticed. “I’m treating with you as I would a warrior in my strike team. I appreciate directness and honesty. If you’re willing to tell me what took place on the 4th Level, I’d appreciate it. If not, please don’t be concerned. I won’t be offended.”
“What took place is, as you can imagine, something that I haven’t shared with anyone else outside my crew.”
“That would be Victor Carmine, Evernessa Ermarine, and your oathbound servant, Samantha Tuppins?”
Harald bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Lady Celestis’ research is impeccable.”
“I’ve no interest in wasting your time. Harald, you’ve already guessed why I’m here. In one raid you’ve demonstrated a rate of growth that is simply astounding in this modern age. If you’re amenable, Lady Celestis would like to invite you to her estate to make your acquaintance and explore potential partnerships for your future.”
“I’m more honored than I deserve.”
“Look. Harald.” Lady Yseult leaned forward, her armor creaking subtly. “I’m not in the habit of making house calls, but even my curiosity was piqued by your rapid acquisition of scales. Even if you diligently farmed Aurora Veil’s, you would have needed to be on the 30th or lower Level. I’m trying to understand it myself, but the only theory I think is remotely feasible is your finding a Silver-ranked portal that took you that deep, where you then linked up with a Questing Hermit who was feeling uncommonly generous.”
“Questing Hermit?”
Lady Yseult waved her hand. “That’s what we call high ranked raiders who choose to remain in the dungeon indefinitely. They’re as rare as they are powerful. Folks like Neckbreaker the Dwarf, or Lady End.” She raised a finely shaped brow.
“Please thank Lady Celestis for reaching out. As I said, she’s doing me entirely too much honor, and I would be glad to accept her invitation at her convenience.”
“Wise of you,” said Lady Yseult, rising to her feet. “Lady Celestis will be pleased. She suggested dinner at her estate two days’ hence?”
“But of course. May I bring a guest?”
Lady Yseult’s smile was perfunctory. “Of course.”
“Very well.”
Harald escorted the insanely powerful warrior to the front door. Vic and Nessa were approaching up the drive, and they slowed, eyes widening at the sight of Lady Yseult.
Who casually placed her striking and brutal golden helm back upon her head, and then nodded to Harald. “Sir Darrowdelve.”
“Lady Yseult.” He hesitated, then took a gamble. “I hope it’s not too forward of me to reveal that I agreed to the invitation in large part because you delivered it.”
“As Lady Celestis anticipated,” said the warrior, and Harald thought he could hear a smile in her tone.
Then the warrior descended the steps, her golden armor resplendent, cerulean cloak trailing after her, and strode past Vic and Nessa without glancing at them.
They watched Lady Yseult depart, and then both hurried up the steps to join Harald.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“House Celestara?” Vic sounded half awed, half intimidated. “By the angels, was that Yseult Khan herself?”
“Yes,” said Harald, rubbing at his chin. “She’s the leader of one of Lady Celestis’ Gold-ranked—”
“We know who the hell she is, Harald,” Nessa cut in. “Why the hell was she here?!”
“You know of her?” Harald blinked. “I didn’t.”
“That’s because you never left your manor other to go drinking with us in disreputable haunts,” said Vic. “Whereas Nessa and I are sophisticated cosmopolitans. Everybody knows who Yseult Khan is, Harry. Everybody. So: why the fuck did she come round for tea?”
“Oh…” Nessa snapped her fingers. “Lady Celestis must get an early copy of the Gazette.”
“So?” Vic stared at her in confusion, then his eyes widened. “Harald’s jump in scales. Of course. Harald. What did she offer you?”
Nessa took a step closer. “And did you accept?”
“She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” Harald schooled his features to be as grave as possible. “I’m sorry. I accepted.” Both looked stunned until Harald grinned. “Dinner at the Celestara estate two nights from now.”
Nessa’s eyes immediately narrowed, even as Vic scowled and then laughed.
“Well played, sir, well played. Nothing finer than a joke in extremely poor taste. But that’s it? That couldn’t have been it. What else? The nuances, darling, the fucking nuances!”
Harald led them inside and closed the door, and only then did he feel like he could exhale. The combination of utter lethality and her arresting, piercing beauty had made it hard to breathe around Yseult.
Vic dragged Harald into the parlor and shoved him into his armchair, then sat across from him, Nessa standing by his side.
“Details. Nuances. An exact recitation of every word said. Now.”
So Harald told them.
“Well, well,” said Vic, glancing up at Nessa. “Lady Celestis came in with a very strong hand. To send her own sister to deliver her dinner invitation?”
“Her - ?” began Harald in amazement, but Nessa cut him off.
“Too strong, almost.” Nessa ran a finger along the armchair back thoughtfully. “Then again, she knows Harry’s front door is going to be assaulted by messengers when the Gazette comes out tomorrow. Fortunately for Harry, he’ll be at the auction all day long.”
“She knew about the auction,” said Harald. “Lady Celestis.”
“Of course she did, the canny witch.” Vic tapped his chin. “The others will as well, as soon as they piece two and two together. The Platinum Rose will have shared news of the estate auction with every major buyer. I fear the auction is going to be more eventful than we anticipated.”
Harald winced. “How am I supposed to handle this without mortally offending everyone?”
“Good luck threading that needle, darling,” said Vic, crossing one leg over the other. “A thousand percent growth on the 4th will at the very least draw casual offers from every major house. And you’ve already agreed to Lady Celestis’ invitation, which the others will soon discover when they begin their secret inquiries.”
“Secret inquiries?”
“Every House is riddled with each other’s spies,” said Vic dismissively. “It’s positively incestuous. We’re going to have to play this very carefully to minimize the number of assassins sent your way.”
Harald felt the bottom of his stomach fall out. “Assassins?”
“I jest, I jest,” said Vic.
“He’s not joking,” said Nessa dryly. “Or, at least, it’s not an impossibility if you sufficiently impress and then insult the wrong person.”
“Easier to nip you in the bud than risk your becoming the next Yseult Khan,” agreed Vic apologetically. “Houses are very pro-active when it comes to safeguarding their interests. Not much else, though.”
“Damn.” Harald ran his fingers briskly through his hair. “Makes rising in power a pain in the ass.”
“Poor baby,” said Vic. “But this is Flutic. Why do you think the Houses unanimously voted in favor of the new taxation and registration policies a century ago?”
“You’ll be fine,” said Nessa. “Probably. You can either accept everyone’s invitation to dine, and thus show nobody any favor, or just that of another equally powerful House, thus ensuring that the remaining four are miffed but not personally slighted.”
Vic peered up at her. “Thornvale? Veridian?”
Nessa frowned and balanced her head from side to side. “Thornvale would upset everyone, but it’s an understandable choice. Veridian… established, powerful, highly respected. Could work. The question is: which?”
“Thornvale,” said Harald, leaning forward. “They’re the newest House, right? Dad always spoke of them with admiration, which made me leery.”
“House Thornvale,” said Vic, voice swelling into an officious tone. “Ambitious, cunning, relentless. Led by Lord Rowan Thorn, its acquired more power and influence in a shorter time than any other, and, I’m sure, mostly by nefarious means. All the Houses are velvet gloves around iron fists, but with Thornvale there’s precious little velvet.”
“And House Veridian I know,” said Harald. “Father used to mock their motto: Through Knowledge, We Rule. They’re wholly given to uncovering ancient secrets in the Dungeon, and… don’t they have a near monopoly on the sale of magical Artifacts?”
“Why,” said Nessa with mock amusement. “It’s almost as if you’re a pretend noble yourself.”
“Which to choose, though, which.” Vic tapped his lips in thought. “Celestara on one hand—Through Wisdom, We Command the Heavens—and on the other… I’m thinking Veridian. Less controversial than Thornvale.”
“Mmm,” agreed Nessa. “Boring is safe, less likely to alarm the others.”
“If I get offers from everyone,” said Harald.
“Not if, darling.” Vic’s smile was lazy. “The fact that Celestis send the Yseult fucking Khan to your door is proof that they will.”
Harald pictured Lady Yseult. The striking symmetry of her features, her air of nobility and steely resolve. Her flawless skin, porcelain in its smoothness, the stark, silvery sheen of her hair. The unmistakable strength that she projected effortlessly. “What’s she done that’s so incredible?”
Vic let out a low whistle.
“A tale for another time,” said Nessa. “Perhaps when we tuck you into bed with a glass of warm milk.”
Harald grimaced in response.
“Of course, some of the Houses may be more direct, and make their offers there and then.” Vic considered. “In which case you’ll have to be adept at deflecting, deferring. I suppose I’ll have to come and provide a modicum of assistance.”
Harald’s eyes opened wide. “You weren’t planning to go?”
Vic grinned lazily. “Oh, I was completely confident in your abilities to navigate the halls of power within the Platinum Rose and come out ahead in that crucible of financial and political will.”
Nessa clucked her tongue disapprovingly.
“Yes, yes I’ll be going,” said Vic. “I’ve even had a new suit tailored for the occasion. Speaking of, you do have something to wear?”
“My old clothes. I’m not sure how well they fit me now.”
“Well, we’ve no time to commission something new.” Vic stood. “We’ll have to leave now and see if any of my favorite tailors are willing to adjust your suits at such short notice.”
“Oh,” said Harald, rising to his feet. “Before we go. I have something for you both to read.”
He darted out to the entrance hall, snatched up his freshly written charter, then returned and held it out.
“What’s this, then?” Vic took it as Nessa slid down to sit on the arm of his chair, and together they read the contract.
“Committed to rising as one, where the success of each is the triumph of all," Nessa read out softly. “Well. That has a nice ring to it.”
“Painfully idealistic,” sniffed Vic. “But yes, I see what you mean.”
Harald grinned.
They read the entire charter with remarkable focus.
“I didn’t enter all the numbers,” said Harald apologetically. “We’d have to vote on what those should be. And I nominated Nessa and Sam for the leadership roles, but that would also have to be voted on.”
Vic glanced at him over the top of the sheets. “You don’t fancy yourself our brave leader?”
Harald grinned and sat back. “Me? I know next to nothing about the dungeon, and am probably the weakest member of the group. As for running the crew itself? I hate bureaucracy, am terrible with scales, and would probably forget half of the items I’d written myself. I think I’m much better suited to one of the lower rungs in the organization.”
Vic narrowed his eyes, then nodded once and resumed reading.
When they were done he handed the papers to Nessa and sat back, fingers steepled before his lips. “You’re ready to make allowances for our obligations to the Countess Sonora?”
“That’s already in there. But it’s my understanding that she doesn’t call on your group too frequently.”
“She’s started to need us more.”
“Then we’ll work around it.”
“Harald.” Vic’s tone was cool, direct. “If we sign this, there will be no going back. Those scales will legally belong to the crew fund. The Artifacts as well. We could turn around and vote you out of the crew, and there would be nothing you can do about it.”
“You’d need Sam’s vote.”
“My point remains. You’re willing to make this commitment? It’s one thing to get carried away with a sparkling new idea, it’s another to sign away that much power and wealth irrevocably to a legal entity.”
“I wouldn’t have handed you those papers if I weren’t.”
“Hmm.” Vic continued to study him.
“This is well done,” said Nessa, tapping her knee with the papers. “You used your father’s charter as a model?”
Harald nodded.
“Smart. Though I imagine you made some edits? There’s language in here that I can’t square with your father’s reputation.”
Harald nodded again.
“Well.” Nessa stared at the papers, nonplussed, then tossed them on the table between them. “I’m willing to join this crew, and would stand for election as the delve captain. It’s… it’s shockingly fair.”
“Yes,” agreed Vic. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t find any hidden clauses or insinuations. It’s all painfully, almost naively, sincere.”
“That’s me in a nutshell,” smiled Harald.
“Too true.” Vic sighed. “Yes, very well. This I can get onboard with. A salaried membership, policies for the loan of Artifacts, a crew fund to cover expenses and healing… it’s surprisingly thorough.”
“Great,” said Harald. “We’ll just need Sam’s signature, then I’ll take it down to the Mining Consortium’s main offices to be notarized and acquire our writ.”
“Will you look at him now, Nessa,” said Vic in a fond tone. “Our little Harry-boy, all grown up.”
“I can hardly recognize him,” said Nessa. “I’m starting to worry as to what he’ll look like a few months from now.”
“We’ll need a crew name,” said Harald. “I was thinking—”
“Please,” cut in Vic. “Don’t. I’m sure it’s painful and awkward sounding. Just sit on it for a few days longer or you’ll furnish me with a lifetime of material with which to torment you.”
Harald glowered at him.
“Well.” Vic slapped his knees and stood. “We cannot underestimate the importance of appropriate couture tomorrow. Let’s grab you best suits and try to find a tailor before it gets too late. Nessa?”
“I’ll stay.” She stretched sinuously, then relaxed and yawned. “It’s been awhile since I had a luxurious bath. I think I’m entitled.”
“Great.” Harald hesitated. “So: signatures?”
“Yes, very well.” Vic feigned reluctance. “If you insist.”
They ascended to his father’s study, and while Harald watched with avid intensity they both initialed each page and signed the last.
Nessa’s signature was dense and dark, Vic’s elaborate and ended with a flourish.
Harald signed below their own names, leaving just enough room for Sam. “There. Almost a full crew. With a little luck I’ll have time after the auction to get this notarized. I’m hoping we can do our next raid soon.”
“Oh Harald,” sighed Vic. “First you have to survive the auction. And given your visit today? I’m starting to think the odds of that are very slim indeed.”