The Bad Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  Something remarkably useful when I heard the tumbler turning in the lock and the sound of voices in the hall.

  I ran towards the door, then angled just a bit to the side, climbing up the bookshelf and sliding up on top, crawling a few feet until I was tucked into the corner and in as much shadow as existed there.

  Armed men came in, and I held my breath.

  They’re here for me, I thought, worried I’d already messed up this whole being a thief thing.

  The men spread through the room, looking around the place. Whatever they were looking for, they didn’t find it. And they didn’t find me. Instead, they took up positions around the room, and they waited. These men were serious and muscled. They had the bodies telling me they worked out daily, likely training with the heavy swords they carried at their hips. All the men wore the blue tabard I’d seen outside, and I was in that weird space where I wanted to hyperventilate at the same time I wanted to hold my breath.

  Was the emperor about to walk into the room?

  No.

  A short man with a wide-brimmed hat and a ridiculous feather walked in first, chatting to the man following him.

  The man following radiated power and confidence. His clothes were understated, and all blue, his back ramrod straight. He had dark hair with white streaks running through it, and immediately I knew he was breaking from the norm because he had no hat on. He had a slim blade at his side, and there wasn’t an extraneous gem on the whole thing. Or a gem, for that matter. It was a sword suited for use, not showing off. And the vague pulse of blue down the sheath led me to believe it had to be magical.

  Hat man came to the map, and turned, and smiled. I got a view of his face. He had at least three chins. He was a chubby guy with an unpleasant face. Very soft, all around. He took his hat off, revealing a sweaty bald pate, and he tossed the hat on the table, covering up a mountain.

  “You may leave us,” the taller man said.

  The guards bowed in unison and walked out of the room.

  There was a heavy silence between the two men.

  “What is it you need to know, Tollendahl?” Blue asked.

  “Your highness, I beg to know a timeline,” the short chubby dude asked, who was clearly Lord Tollendahl.

  “A timeline is difficult.”

  “Money is also difficult, Prince Valamir. And if I am to give you what you have asked for, I need to know when you will need it.”

  “You know how to try me, Tollendahl.”

  “You know I find all this courtly posturing nonsensical, but I know you like it. So I call you by your rightful title, Valamir.”

  “Things will be different when I sit on the throne, Tollendahl.”

  “There are many steps between here and there, prince.”

  “It is a path well planned out.”

  “And yet, here you are, still asking for funding.”

  “What is it you want, Tollendahl? Another title?”

  “What are titles Valamir?” Tollendahl said, pacing around the table. “I have plenty and what more do they give me? I spend more time getting less done with every new title your brother lays at my feet. No, enough.”

  “Money you have.”

  “All you know of and more.”

  “I grow tired of your games, Count. You want a dukedom?”

  “No, that is just another title.”

  “And it places you in a line for the throne.”

  “A line that will only grow longer. No, I have no desire for that. You are missing what it is I truly want?”

  “Then tell me,” Valamir barked out, his calm demeanor gone.

  “I have a list,” Tollendahl said.

  “Of course you do.”

  “To begin, I want the two best warriors in the Thingmen.”

  “They are not mine to give.”

  “They will be.”

  “Possibly.”

  “I will also accept the two best warriors in the Legion.”

  “That is more manageable, but again, not necessarily in my power yet.”

  “As long as it is promised to happen within the next year.”

  “You have a timetable?”

  “I do. And that is part two of this. I want access to the Imperial Vaults. I want my pick of the magic items stored there.”

  “You cannot possibly think you can have all of them.”

  “I want eight.”

  “Five.”

  “Six.”

  “Fine.”

  “I want two high-level Mancers.”

  “You already have a pet Mancer.”

  “I want two more. High level. Skilled.”

  “Two warriors, six magic items from the Imperial Vault, and two Mancers?”

  “And I want that man your brother won’t admit he’s got in his dungeon.”

  “Which one?”

  “Not the immortal. What is happening with that one at present?”

  “He has lost his mind. We stopped the torture even. He was broken beyond comprehension.”

  “And he never revealed his secrets?”

  “He only ever said he was from some other world.”

  “Do you think that’s possible?“

  “I think you are distracting me from whatever it is you are actually asking me. It might be possible he is from another world, but that does us little good in replicating his abilities.”

  Tollendahl rolled his eyes a little at Valamir.

  “I want,” Tollendahl said, “the dungeon expert.”

  “I assume you are also planning to ask my brother to reveal the location of the dungeon to you.”

  “While I would appreciate that, I have at least three other locations to attempt first.”

  “You?”

  “Me. I will conquer them.”

  “You will die in them.”

  “Ah, but you will still have my money at that point. And I have one last request.”

  “This is getting to be a bit much.”

  “You are asking for a tremendous gift of gold, Prince Valamir. Perhaps I should decide that it is too much.”

  “You are gaining the ear of the new Emperor whenever you want it.”

  “And you are killing your brother. Not something to inspire trust.”

  “You know why he must be killed.”

  “So you might ascend the throne over his daughter.”

  “My brother has grown weak and timid. His mind is slipping. He is not thinking straight. He was attempting to join the Empire with Carchedon! Our sworn enemies.”

  “Yes, they are very terrible people.”

  “Just because you feel it is okay to make money off them—”

  “Money you want for your ends.”

  Valamir took a deep breath and let it out, and I could see the veins on his neck slowly retreat back under his skin.

  “Regardless, you understand. This is not what I want, this is what must be done for the good of the Empire.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Good of the Empire. Now, two last things. One is quite minor. The other, I want a Grand Arena tournament. One winner. I want to find the best the Empire has to offer, and—”

  “And the Empire must pay for it?”

  “You know I will pay, you cheapskate. I need you to authorize it through the Empire.”

  “Another member for your dungeon team, I take it?”

  “Yes. And,” Tollendahl grabbed a small sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. He read it over quickly, then held it out to Valamir. “These men need to be released.”

  “More White Hand goons?”

  “They are trusted allies and innocents.”

  Valamir read over the list. “Too many.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I cannot release this many men without arousing suspicion.”

  “I thought you were all-powerful.”

  “Insulting me does nothing for you. Were I emperor already, then it would be a different story, but for the moment, especially at this moment, I need
to be more discrete.”

  Tollendahl sighed but nodded and took the paper back. He pulled a pencil from his pocket and struck through a few lines of text.

  “Better?” Tollendahl asked, holding the paper out.

  “Acceptable,” Valamir said.

  “Then, I will happily instruct my bankers to make certain funds available to you, my emperor.”

  “Your assistance will be remembered.”

  “Oh come off it, Valamir, you know what I want. I need nothing more.”

  “Are we done?”

  “With business, yes. But I can offer you an activity.”

  “Another of your girls?”

  “Not just another of my girls, one of the most amazing girls I have yet encountered in the Empire.”

  “I have my own source of gamesmanship.”

  “Ah, but there is little as exciting as breaking in a young girl when the entirety of the empire’s elite is directly beneath you.”

  “She’s your lamp girl for the week?”

  “She seems a bit delicate to last the night, but what a night.”

  “Tollendahl, you disgust me.”

  “Eh, if I cared about things like that, I probably wouldn’t have the fortunes to help you kill your brother and steal your niece’s throne.”

  Valamir got quite angry at that point and stalked from the room.

  Tollendahl chuckled to himself, and grabbed his hat off the table, taking a moment to settle it on his head.

  I was about to move, thinking I’d follow him when Tollendahl spoke again.

  “Did you catch all that?” he asked.

  Chapter 69

  I froze. Well, refroze. Froze some more. He knew I was there? Was it a show for me?

  “I did, lord Tollendahl,” a slimy sort of voice said from right next to the door. Something there moved, and a figure seemed to slip from nothing into visibility. It was human, or humanoid, rather tough to tell in Vuldranni, and though it was a little hard to judge being mostly above it, I figured it stood about six feet tall. But thin. Very slight. The outfit was in Imperial style, but like mine, seemed just off enough to make people wonder.

  “He has no love for you or yours,” Tollendahl said.

  “Valamir does not understand commerce. Were he to, he might not be quite so destitute despite being number two in the Empire.”

  “I might dislike the man,” Tollendahl said, “but do not misjudge him. He has plenty of coin and a deeper acumen for business than you could imagine. He is smart enough to not use his own coin for this ploy of his. He still needs enough gold on hand should things fall apart and he needs to buy his way out of the hole he has dug. But he is a patriot, he loves the Empire, and he hates you.”

  “And we hate him.”

  “You prefer his brother?”

  “No, his brother and the traitor that was my father were doing too much damage to our nations. It is right what we are doing, though it pains me to do it.”

  I caught a flash of movement above the two men talking below. Someone was up on the light above the map-table. The someone was crawling along the light, and I saw a glint of something green. A dagger perhaps?

  The only thing I could imagine happening was an assassination attempt of some kind, and it seemed likely the attempt would be on the mystery figure from some other land. Now I had no love for that guy, I was, technically, a member of the Empire, so, you know, not exactly my dude to worry about. And yet, if there was an attack in this room, regardless of how it happened or who it happened to, that would mean guards swarming into the room. That would mean a very careful accounting of the contents of the room, and that would mean someone discovering I was there. And two very powerful men of the Empire knowing that I’d overheard their plans, and knew that the Emperor was slated to be assassinated meant I’d have a short and painful life. Or, if they realized I was like that other guy they had in their dungeon who’d gone mad, I’d have my mind crushed because I could just respawn. There was only one thing I could do, I had to stop the killing or attacking and make sure everyone left the room fine and dandy.

  I did what I said I’d not do, I cast shadow step.

  The world stopped, and I was moving. Shadows blurred around me as the creatures of the shadow realm came towards me.

  I leaped onto the chain holding the lamp up above the table and did my best tight wire act, doing a second leap off the chain onto the table, leading with the Stone Stiletto of Silence, forcing myself out of the shadow realm while I was high above.

  It seemed like I hung in the air for a moment before coming down, dagger first. The point struck the assassin in the back of the neck, going all the way through the poor schmuck and lodging into the wooden beam of the lamp structure.

  The figure made a few limp movements, then exhaled a last breath in total silence. I stayed still, listening to the inane chatter of the two men below.

  GG! You’ve killed a Human (LVL 15 Unseen Assassin)

  You’ve earned 8280 XP

  Huzzah! Against all odds, you have reached Level 9! You receive 2 attribute points to distribute in the next 36 hours or you lose them. Dare to believe you can survive, and achieve greatness. Or don’t.

  There was a knock at the door, and I peeked over the edge.

  Tollendahl was glaring at his friend, who promptly vanished from sight.

  “Enter,” Tollendahl called out.

  A guard leaned in.

  “Lady Tollendahl requests your presence, my lord,” the guard said.

  “Does she?” Tollendahl replied, sounding bored.

  “Yes, my lord. She says she must insist.”

  Tollendahl glanced up at the lamp structure, thankfully looking opposite where I was peeking out, then sighed.

  “Very well,” he said, waddling out past the guard.

  The guard shut the door, and then it was just me and the dead body and the invisible man. No one moved for a moment or two.

  “Quite impressive,” came a voice from below.

  There was a diaphanous shimmer, and the mystery man came into view.

  “You may come down,” he said, “I can’t imagine it is pleasant up there right now.”

  I peeked over the edge.

  “Yes,” the man said, looking right at me. “I’m talking to you, elf. You who are, apparently, my savior.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  “You.”

  “Just a moment,” I said.

  I heard a chuckle from below but ignored it. I got my dark vision going, which was a little challenging considering the light coming from below made it a bit painful, but at least I could see a bit better what I was doing. I’d killed a woman. I pulled the stiletto from her back, which was, again silent, and then quickly pulled all the things from her body. There wasn’t much, two small pouches, one large pouch, a necklace with a large ruby, three rings, a bracelet, and five daggers. The large pouch was empty, so I put all the loot in there, and then I hopped down to the ground.

  Standing up straight, I was actually shorter than the man. He had a pleasant face, very pale and with very blonde hair. Almost white. But his eyes were a piercing green. So he wasn’t an albino, just a really white dude.

  He just stared at me. Well, he stared me up and down, like he was trying to gain something from me. I felt a push of magic against myself, and I knew, intrinsically, to push back against it.

  One eyebrow of the man’s went up.

  “It is rare to find a mage in the Imperium,” he said. “Especially one who has such a delicate touch. Imperial magic seems all about brute power and not, well, finesse.”

  “I guess you can say I’m new here.”

  “I can tell. Do you know who I am?”

  “No.”

  “I am the heir to the Hospodar of Carchedon. One of them, at any rate. The Empire may believe I am one step removed from ruling, but the truth is I am little more than a member of the royal family. My brother has assumed the throne, and I am thus thrust into a new role, one I was not expect
ing.”

  “Congratulations?”

  “Ah,” he said with a wide smile, “I tell you this because you have forced me to alter my plans.”

  “That was your assassin?”

  “No, that was meant for me, I fear. Our host seems to have reconsidered our plans together. But, in my culture, when one saves your life, a great bond is formed, and a great debt is settled upon a family. My family owes you, and it owes you me.”

  He bowed low.

  “Uh, that’s okay, no necessary.”

  “Very necessary.”

  “Nope. Really, it’s—”

  “You have no say in the matter of my culture, elf. I must speak to my brother, but I will return to serve. You have my blood debt.”

  BONG! You have received the Blood Debt of House Westergaard. Troels Westergaard owes you his life.

  “No. Don’t do that.”

  “I must. It is the will of—”

  “I believe in free will.”

  “You may believe what you like, elf, but the dictates are what I must follow.”

  “So you’re going to be my servant?”

  “I will be as you wish of me.”

  “And if I wish you to just return to your family and, you know, be you?”

  “That is not allowed. I cannot allow harm to befall you. That is the debt that my family has assumed. If you were to come to my country, you could live like a king, and I could remain with my family.”