Harald frowned the whole way home. People seemed to sense him coming and some instinct warned them to step aside. So that without realizing it, Harald carved a path through the crowds, ignoring the stares and hushed voices that trailed after him.
Lady Hammerfell’s words echoed in his mind. He felt at once reassured and more lost. She’d affirmed that what he felt was natural, part and parcel of needing to be the best. But beyond that, what had she offered him?
Nuanced, honest feedback that had failed to do the work for him.
Her mysticism, her willing subjugation to the Fallen Angel felt too esoteric and weird for him. Perhaps one day he’d witness enough in the dungeon to feel the same, but for now, her path was closed to him.
No. He couldn’t simply relinquish all control over his life to the Fallen Angel. He felt too aggressive, too active an urge to harness his own drive and wrestle it under control.
Then?
She’d rattled off what others did, but none of them had appealed. That was the problem with looking for shortcuts. They didn’t exist. You ended up wasting your time as you ignored the right path: the one directly before you.
His own path seemed clear.
To surround himself with strong and good-hearted friends. To delve deep and often in the dungeon. To grow in power, and to survive the challenges and obstacles that were being thrown in his way.
To keep himself under control, and to watch the bloodlust, the demonic urges, the desire to slaughter indiscriminately.
It was late afternoon when he arrived at the manor. Sam was home, satchel set in a chair just inside the front door, and was conversing with Nessa in the first parlor.
“Harald!” She seemed at once glad to see him and nervous both. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
He made his way to the closest chair. Both women were alert, but not necessarily upset. “What’s happened?”
“When did you last see Kársek?” asked Sam.
“Last night? Oh. You just saw him?”
Nessa raised a dark brow. “You sound so casual about it. He arrived a few hours ago dressed in dwarven armor and…”
Sam picked up the thread. “He explained what happened to him, but I can’t say I understood. He has an entirely new Class now?”
“DreadRune,” agreed Harald. “He tried to explain it to me, too, but… yeah. It was really strange. Apparently, dwarves can change their Class if under duress. Or maybe it’s an honor thing. But not willingly, otherwise?” Harald rubbed at his jaw. “He was definitely intimidating, so I didn’t feel like pressing him.”
“Agreed,” said Sam. “He went back to the garden shed, though it seems even weirder for him to spend time there. He said he was going to close it down.”
“Close down the garden shed?” Harald shook his head, his confusion only growing. “I mean, that’s fine, I guess. Gardening isn’t really a priority right now.”
“We’re going to have to have a frank conversation with him,” said Nessa. “Learn what he can do, how his role in the party has changed. I was thinking we could raid tomorrow morning, all of us try for a deeper level. Perhaps the 16th, given the direct access via the Dungeon Portal.”
“16th?” Harald restrained the urge to grin. “That’s great. I’m ready. That one features, what, hobgoblins and orcs?”
“Correct,” said Nessa. “It’s a sharp escalation over the 15th and lower levels. I’ll debrief the whole team after dinner with Countess Sonora so I don’t repeat myself, but that should satisfy your craving for a challenge.”
“Excellent,” said Harald.
“And with a DreadRune onboard…” Sam again shook her head, mystified. “He’s got armor, a new hammer which I’m sure is an Artifact, and his, I don’t know, his very personality has changed. It’s like he’s a whole new dwarf. Made me feel like a child next to a stern adult.”
“Because you are a child, darling,” smiled Nessa.
Sam stuck her tongue out in response, and Harald couldn’t help but smile. When had these two broken through the ice between them?
“How did it go with Lady Hammerfell?” asked Nessa. “Did she provide you with answers?”
“Sympathy, yes. Answers? If I joined House Drakenhart. Including the offer to mentor me.”
“No small offer,” said Nessa, raising a brow. “Tempted?”
“Yes, actually. But no. I’m still not interested in joining a major house. And she also revealed that her approach to self-mastery is this mystical surrender to the Fallen Angel herself, which I don’t think would work for me, regardless. But it was a good visit. She can reach Strength 29 when she really wants to.”
Both women looked impressed.
“Strength 29?” Sam glanced at Nessa. “That means she can… throw a tree?”
“Probably,” laughed Nessa. “And swing that huge sword around like we saw. Thracos is a more pressing concern, though. If all goes well tonight with the countess, you should find him and negotiate a date for your duel.”
“Don’t remind me.” Harald pinched the bridge of his nose. “Defeating Yeoric was task enough, though now it doesn’t feel nearly as impressive an accomplishment as it once did. Defeating a Silver-ranked Demon Seed in the dungeon? How am I supposed to catch up with him if he’s got the same advantage I do?”
Neither Nessa nor Sam had an answer.
“But House Thornvale is no longer actively recruiting me. Which means there’s nothing to stop me from approaching Countess Sonora tonight. Which, according to Lady Hammerfell, can’t come soon enough. You should have heard her trying to be subtle about warning me. I’m clearly going to need protection as soon as possible.”
“You’ve worked for her,” said Sam. “What’s she like? All Vic can seem to do is swoon over her beauty.”
Nessa tapped her lips, pensive. “Countess Sonora is… formidable, I suppose. She’s been under attack ever since she came to power, but she’s not lost heart.”
“How strong is her opposition?” asked Harald.
“Strong enough to have crippled her business interests both abroad and in the city. She’s a nude countess. Her wealth has run dry, her barracks are empty, and her manor nearly as destitute and abandoned as this one.” Nessa smiled. “Nearly. Vic and my little crew keep her in scales, but barely.”
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Harald considered. “Do you know what it would take to turn her fortunes around?”
Nessa shook her head. “I made a point of not inquiring. To be honest, her need has been to my and Vic’s advantage, and I’m amazed that she’s lasted as long as she has. I’d have wagered she’d give up last year, but she’s hung on.”
“I can respect that,” said Harald. “And I’m glad we’re meeting with her tonight. There’s no point in training to fight Thracos if Lady Yseult catches me in a side street or follows me into the dungeon. Perhaps my working for the countess will disarm some of House Celestara’s animosity.”
“Anything is possible,” said Nessa dubiously.
“What of me?” asked Sam. “I’m not eager to sign up with anyone just yet.”
“Then don’t,” said Harald. “I mean it. You can still come raiding with us. But I agree, it doesn’t make any sense for you to swear an oath to House Sonora.”
“Good,” said Sam, and gave a firm nod.
There was a distinct rap on the front door, and they all twisted as one to stare.
“Flutic Treasury, perhaps?” guessed Sam. “Come to evict us?”
“No, we’ve a day or two left.” Harald rose to his feet. “Unless they moved the date up again.” He led his friends into the entrance hall and opened the door.
Lady Yseult Khan stood outside, clad in her wondrous golden half-plate worn over her bodysuit of midnight blue. Her cape of cerulean flowed from her shoulders, thick and voluminous, and she held her intimidating helm under one arm, so that her silver-white mane of hair cascaded down past her shoulders.
Damn it, thought Harald. Had she somehow been alerted to their dinner plans? “Lady Yseult. What a lovely surprise.”
“Harald,” said Lady Yseult, her tone as sober as her gaze. “Lady Ermarine.”
“This is my good friend, Samantha Tuppins,” said Harald. “Will you come in?”
Lady Yseult nodded and stepped over the threshold. Her presence filled the entrance hall, stealing the air in a way that her previous visit hadn’t. Harald led the way into the parlor, and found himself wishing that Vic were here to help with the intensity.
They sat.
Lady Yseult’s poise was perfect; her back stiff, her shoulders squared, her cloak gathered to one side. For a moment, she simply subjected Harald to her probing stare, and he was glad once more for his Ego 23, for he was able to meet its full weight without flinching.
“We received your elegantly penned response,” began the Gold-ranked raider. “My sister was touched at the sentiments, but ultimately frustrated at the lack of an answer. She bid me visit you to see if we can reach a clearer understanding of your position.”
Oh, shit.
“I see,” said Harald. “And I appreciate your, ah, interest in nailing down my position.” He resisted the urge to glance at his friends. “Unfortunately, I’m not yet ready to declare my loyalty for any house. I do hope you understand.”
Kársek appeared in the parlor entrance, dressed in a sober uniform of dove grays and earthen browns. He stopped at the sight of their guest, one of his blond brows rising in surprise.
Lady Yseult nodded slowly, taking in the dwarf and promptly dismissing him, her gray eyes glittering. “As I imagined. I appreciate your candor, Harald, but Melisende entrusted me with making the urgency of the matter clear. Her patience runs thin. We’re aware that other houses have expressed their interest in recruiting you, as is right and proper, but she asked that I impress upon you the wisdom of joining House Celestara.”
“She made a compelling case after dinner,” said Harald.
Kársek entered the parlor, following the wall to stand beside the fireplace. His gravitas was such that Lady Yseult’s gaze was pulled to the dwarf almost against her will.
“Not compelling enough, it seems. I’m sorry, but who is this?”
“My apologies, let me introduce the latest member of the Throne Hunters, Kársek.”
“Ah,” said Lady Yseult, her manner relaxing but a fraction as Kársek bowed. “Your gardener, yes. As I was saying. You stand to gain many advantages if you accept her offer. I won’t repeat them, but I trust you’re aware that her offer is exceedingly generous. But clearly that’s not the correct form of inducement.”
Nessa’s tone was sharp. “And what is, Lady Yseult?”
“We’re all adults here.” The Gold-ranked raider kept her gaze locked on Harald. “We all understand the stakes. There is a clear and correct choice for Harald to make, one which would benefit him greatly and then there is an incorrect choice.”
“Lady Yseult,” said Harald softly. “That sounds passingly close to a threat.”
“Only if you take it as such,” said Lady Yseult. “House Celestara has risen to the heights of power, commands the authority it wields and boasts such a deep stable of raiders and incredible wealth because my sister does not hesitate to act in whatever manner furthers our house’s needs. On one hand, that can mean sparing no expense in outfitting and supporting the careers of House Celestara raiders. On the other hand, it can mean zero tolerance for anything that endangers or puts our house at a disadvantage.”
Harald felt his pulse pick up, felt his guts clench. It was no small thing to sit across from such a powerful being and hear such words.
Nessa, however, sounded exasperated. “Oh, come, Lady Yseult. If this is meant to impress us, it’s not doing the job. If anything, the danger was more persuasive when it remained the subtext. Such crude extortion demeans House Celestara and yourself both.”
Lady Yseult raised one perfectly arched brow. “Quite the opposite, Lady Ermarine. I possess a singular appreciation for directness and have done Harald the same courtesy.” She looked at Harald. “So please, in light of everything that is at stake, respond to my sister’s offer.”
“Now?” Harald just barely kept his tone level. “I already -”
“Now,” cut in Lady Yseult.
“I see.” Harald sat up slightly straighter. “You force the issue.”
“I do, indeed. Master Darrowdelve, will you or will you not accept our invitation to join House Celestara?”
Harald held the woman’s glittering gaze. It was mesmerizing. He recalled Lady Hammerfell’s ability to level entire segments of the Dungeon Plaza with one swing of her blade, and thought on how Lady Yseult was ranked higher than she. If she wanted to, Lady Yseult could kill the three of them right here and now without any effort whatsoever.
Was that what she was threatening? To slaughter them if he refused?
Harald stood.
Nessa and Sam did the same.
Lady Yseult remained seated, one brow still arched, waiting.
“Then it is with great regret that I must decline,” said Harald, voice unnaturally calm to his own ears. “Please tender my sincere regrets to Lady Melisende.”
Lady Yseult pursed her lips, nodded as if his words had confirmed some privately held suspicion, and rose to her feet. “A pity, Harald. But I’m afraid I can’t allow you to make this mistake. Please accept my invitation to return with me to House Celestara, where we can continue this conversation.”
“The matter is closed, Lady Yseult. There is nothing left to discuss.”
Nessa was gliding out wide, but she was without her blade. Sam’s eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling. Even Kársek seemed affected, for the dwarf was trembling, his brow creased into a deep frown, his green eyes glittering as he focused on Lady Yseult.
Who smiled, completely at ease, and rose to her feet. “You are in no position to refuse my invitation. If I wish you to accompany me home, then accompany me you shall.”
Harald’s pulse was pounding in his ears. There was nothing in the depths of Yseult’s gray eyes but calm confidence. To resist was futile. Even if they were fully geared up and deployed their Artifacts and Servitors, they stood not a chance in hell of resisting.
“Hello!” Vic’s voice rang out as he entered the hallway, shopping bags hanging from the crook of his elbow. “Who summoned the Celestara carriage… outside?”
Lady Yseult finally rose to her feet. Her eyes had narrowed, her gaze turned flat. “If I have to carry you out over my shoulder like a squalling babe, I shall do so. If I must step over the corpses of your companions in the process, then so be it. Accept inevitability, Harald Darrowdelve. Summon what dignity remains to you, bow your head to my sister’s will, and follow me outside.” The air crackled with tension, with power. “I shall not ask again.”
“Nobody threatens my tharkûn,” whispered Kársek from beside the fireplace. “Khazadrok.”
Harald saw the rune. Massive as a barn door, ghostly and geometric in the style of dwarven writing, it appeared before Kársek and flashed toward Lady Yseult, who let out a cry of rage and shock. She managed to cross her arms before her, summoning a curvature of pale gold in the air just before the rune impacted.
The result was explosive, thunderous, overwhelming.
Lady Yseult was blasted off her feet with such violence that she flew across the room as if launched by a trebuchet. Her shoulders and head impacted a distant bookcase mere seconds before the rune itself hit the wall.
Everything shattered outwards with a concussive roar. The shelving, books, stonework, all of it fragmented as Lady Yseult flew outside to hurtle into the overgrown shrubberies that lined the manor’s flank.
Chunks of masonry pulled free from the top of the massive square hole that now opened the side of the parlor to the garden and sky, and crashed down onto the debris.
Harald gaped. The very air tasted of heated metal. Only Kársek’s panting breaths filled the silence, the young dwarf suddenly so weak that he sank to one knee, his ruddy complexion reduced to a waxen pallor.
“What…?” whispered Nessa, awestruck. “But…”
Harald wanted to laugh, to rake at his face with his fingers, to gape. But Sam’s Beacon of Hope washed over him, and his faculties snapped back into acuity.
“She can’t be hurt,” he whispered. “She’s definitely not dead. Run.”