The Bad Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  “Ambassador, your report?” The woman asked, her face impassive and her voice like sprung steel. She sounded like the type of person who’d never had to wait on a line, and understood that to be her god-given right. An ultimate boss-level, I’d-like-to-speak-to-your-manager Karen. I hated and feared her instantly.

  The ambassador turned and kneeled, bowing his head before her.

  “My queen,” he said.

  “Up,” she replied. “I am short on time this night. Give me good news.”

  “I’m afraid I have both good and bad to share with you.”

  She screwed her face up, scowling at him.

  “Bad first,” she said. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “Our efforts here have been more expensive than we initially anticipated. It appears we are in need of additional gold.”

  “Why?”

  “Why is it more expensive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Partly because the economy seems to be humming along here. In order to get anyone to work, we must pay more.”

  “I wouldn’t be too worried about their economy for much longer.”

  “Is this something you will share with me?”

  “I have yet to decide.”

  “Yes, your majesty. We are seeing success with our agents on the ground. There is certainly growing dissatisfaction with the Legion. Their recruitment numbers have been declining.”

  “Declining does not mean stopped. I want them stopped. The Legion must stop growing.”

  “I cannot see that happening entirely, my lord.”

  “I grow weary with you. You simply do not seem to understand how to think outside the box.”

  “What box, your majesty?”

  “The box. The proverbial box, you know.”

  “I’m afraid you have me quite flummoxed, your—“

  “I need you to use your imagination and think of things I have not. Okay? Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “If I gave you more gold, what would you do?”

  “How much gold, your—“

  “Pretend I have limitless reserves. What would you do then?”

  “Recruit mercenaries.”

  “Why?”

  “I would pay more than the Legion. There are plenty who’d desert for higher wages. Especially if there is a war looming. Or an unpleasant fight somewhere.”

  “Would you suggest I continue to throw troops away in Rumib Pass?”

  “I would not presume to give you strategic military advice, my liege.”

  “It’s something I’ll need to think on,” she said, tapping her picture-perfect chin. “For the moment, consider your request for funds granted. Triple your usual amount. I want the Legion to shrink.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Now, you said you have good news?”

  “I have some, yes.”

  “The Emperor?”

  “Yes. His reign will be over soon.”

  “Are you sure of this?”

  “Yes. His brother is about to put his plan in motion.”

  “And what is his plan?”

  “I’m afraid I have no specifics, but I have it on good authority it will be happening very soon.”

  “What is this authority?”

  “One of our largest outlays this month has been lining the pockets of a Lord Tollendahl. He is providing the bankroll for Valamir. And Valamir is taking the money now, which means the assassination cannot be far off.”

  “Excellent. Have you found a candidate for us to back?”

  “There are a few possibilities. I have my assistant writing out the names and profiles of my top three choices in our shared book as we speak, to save time for discussions here.”

  “Now that is thinking, Ambassador Quince.”

  “Thank you, your majesty.”

  “And the daughter?”

  “She will not take the throne.”

  “Can you be sure of this?”

  “No,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “Not unless you would like me to take a more proactive approach.”

  “What is your current approach?”

  “I fear I must ask you what you hope to gain from this, else I might not play things correctly here.”

  She stared hard at the ambassador, then looked at something, uh, off-camera. Something on her end.

  “The Empire is a juggernaut, a being of immense power that runs on bureaucracy. The only way to fight something like that is to kill it from the inside, make it destroy itself. There is no easy way for a new Emperor to rise, not if Valamir kills his brother. I want you to ensure the transition to a new Emperor is as painful as possible. That it lingers. That nothing happens as those desperate for power fight to take it, ignoring everything happening besides that power-grab. They will be fools, and they will be weakened, and that is when I will strike from a position they are not even aware of.”

  “A brilliant plan, your majesty. I have positioned an asset close to the daughter. He acts as an advisor to her and has gained significant trust in recent months. He will steer her in the direction we desire.”

  “Get her to the northwest if you can. That will be our in-road.”

  “A northwest passage?”

  “Sure.”

  “I was not aware one existed.”

  “It only partly does. But it will be a perfect launching point. We will take Osterstadt and the Emerald Sea, then push south. And when they finally see we are marching on the Empire and they rally the remaining Legions, we will come across Rumib and attack from the east. And around the south.”

  “A brilliant plan, my liege.”

  “The future of our world depends on it, Ambassador. And me. We are living on the precipice of destruction, and we must face it united. And I am the only one powerful enough to do it.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “That is one reason we must have such ironclad discipline. For now, I will overlook your dalliance with your secretary because you seem to actually love each other. And it has yet to affect your work. Do not let it.”

  The painting went back to rigid, and the ambassador dropped to his knees, his body shaking with exertion.

  For a moment, there was stillness in the room. Then the secretary rushed in, sliding to her knees next to her boss and lover. She bent over him, smothering him with affection and murmuring softly to him.

  That was my cue to make a break for it, back towards the peephole near the secretary’s desk. I’d heard a lot of secrets and knew plenty to help the Empire. But none of it meant anything without physical evidence. And I knew where I could find something like that.

  Chapter 122

  From the outer-office peephole, I could clearly see a journal open on the secretary’s desk. There were several sheets of paper next to it, and a pen laid across almost haphazardly. I just had to figure out how to grab it.

  I leaned against the wall, and I could feel a give, like there wasn’t a whole lot of structure there. Frankly, it seemed like it was just wood paneling between me and the secretary’s desk. But pulling a Kool-Aid man seemed like an excellent way of letting everyone in the building know I was there.

  New and different sounds were coming from the ambassador’s office, so I shuffled on over to the ambassador’s office peephole, and I took a peek on through.

  There was certainly some hard-core consoling going on.

  I felt wrong to watch, so, instead, I took a better look around the secret little room I was in. I saw a little something I’d missed before. There was a very thin hinge at the bottom of one of the panels. And just across from that was a little latch with a string attached.

  A way out.

  A second peek through the peephole, and the two were pretty, uh, involved.

  I lifted the latch and pulled the panel inward, then tucked myself into a small package and crawled through into the office.

  The first thing that struck me was how soft the carpet was, deep and plush and re
ally some of the most impressive carpet I’d ever felt. Bonus, it did a phenomenal job of cushioning any noises I made. Though the grunts and groans coming from ambassador and friend were probably enough to mask even me running across the room.

  I crawled along towards the door, doing my best to remain focused on getting to the secretary’s desk and avoiding any interaction with the couple. As I didn’t make any big motions, I’d be able to sneak by, so I kept it slow and steady.

  Once through the door, I edged it a little closed with my foot, and scrambled behind the desk.

  The notebook was laying open, in the middle of being written in, and I stopped my hand about an inch from touching it. Stealing the notebook would be easy. Relatively speaking. But it would also be extremely obvious someone had snuck in and snaked the book. Then plans might change. Intelligence was only useful insofar as it was accurate.

  I gritted my teeth and looked around for other options. I was super tempted to read through the journal, just as an extra, but given the approaching crescendo of noises from the office, I was on borrowed time. There was a small stone bowl to one side of the desk. The interior was black from ash and smoke. But sitting unburnt, yet, were lots of hand-written pages. I scooped the pages up, and gave them the quick once over. Discarded notes for the meeting. The ambassador’s talking points. Expenses. Cost overruns and details the ambassador was prepared to offer the queen if he needed to cover his ass.

  Perfect.

  I stuffed the papers into my pants, and then just walked nonchalantly back into the ambassador’s office. I saw that the climax was about to occur, and moved quickly behind the desk. There, I ducked down, crawled across the last bit of floor as the Mahrduhmese finished up, and disappeared back into the darkness. I closed and locked the panel just as the secretary was chiding her boss-lover for workplace misconduct.

  Whatever. It was time for me to go.

  Shuffle off to Buffalo. And by Buffalo, I meant taking the ladder down to the sewer.

  Chapter 123

  As I climbed down the ladder, the smell grew in intensity. The ladder ended with a bit of a drop, maybe ten feet. Just enough to make it difficult for things to jump up. Except, you know, slimes that could climb the walls. Which, given the slime trails I saw on either side of me, was something they did on the regular. Whatever else had visited, however, left without any trouble. There was an arched tunnel leading off.

  I dropped onto the stone floor, doing my best three-point superhero landing, dagger out and ready to attack anything waiting in the tunnel.

  Nothing but stink.

  I stayed in that ready position for a solid thirty seconds, just listening. I had no idea what I might encounter in the sewers. Or, rather, more accurately I had only the barest sense of what I might encounter in the sewers: slimes. I’d been told the sewers held all sorts of other horrors, and here I was about to find out.

  The stone floor was surprisingly slick. The path wasn’t straight, so I had to follow a few twists and turns before getting to another arched opening. Which appeared to open right into the main sewage lines. It was a bit like being in a subway tunnel, one where the walkway is nearer the top of the tube than the center. The bulk of the tube was filled with slowly-moving sludge, the source of the horrendous smell. I wasn’t exactly sure what direction I faced, but I surmised the flow went towards the Pits. It’s ultimately where sewage was ‘treated.’ I looked upstream, then downstream, trying to get some sense of which way might be the quickest, safest exit. There were no signs. Besides the flow direction, there was literally no difference. I pulled a coin out and I flipped it up into the air.

  I grabbed for the coin, but bobbled the catch. It slipped free from my grasp, plinked off the stones, and flipped up just high enough for me to see the sewage come up and snatch the coin out of the air.

  So, you know, there was that.

  At least it wasn’t reaching out for me. Yet.

  I had to make some sort of a choice, so I went downstream. Ultimately, if I followed it long enough, I’d get to the Pits.

  As I walked, though, I saw the sludge coming up towards me, so I scooted over to the wall as far as I could. The sludge pseudopods waved a bit, but couldn’t reach me. Safe. Ish.

  I’d gone perhaps twenty yards down the path before seeing a junction up ahead. A cross-sewers, if you will, where two pipes came together. Helpfully, small bridges crossed the sludge rivers, rising up higher than you’d expect, but I guessed that was so the poop-monster-hand-thingies wouldn’t be able to reach up and pull pedestrians down into the shit.

  While I was deciding which way to go, I heard something that sounded like whistling, except more sibilant. Like a snake trying to whistle. I dropped to a knee, and pulled a dagger out. Ready.

  I could make out footsteps, multiple people coming my way. Or maybe a creature that had plenty of legs. Who also liked to whistle. And who somehow managed to walk so that all the legs weren’t falling in a rhythm of any kind.

  The first thing around the corner was a snout, alligator-like. Followed quickly by the rest of the head of the creature. It looked like a tiny dragon, about three feet tall and wearing a hodgepodge of armor and clothes. Given the darkness, I couldn’t really make out colors, but there was definitely no priority placed on matching, well, anything. All of the creature’s belongings looked as if they’d been scrounged and fixed and/or ‘improved’ in some fashion.

  I immediately shot him with an identification spell.

  Kobold

  Lvl 12 Tunnel Rat

  Huh, I thought.

  He paused, sniffed the air, then dropped into a half-crouch, and pulled a small spear off of his back.

  Then he saw me.

  He took a step back involuntarily, then sent a quick hand signal to the rest of the group.

  “You are lost,” he said.

  “Or are you?” I replied.

  “No, I know exactly where I am.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Is here. Right here.” He pointed between his feet. “Where you think here is?”

  “You might be right.”

  “Am right.”

  “Or are you left?”

  He looked to his left, which was the wall, and I think he gave me the kobold equivalent to a smile.

  “Where you going?” he asked.

  “I need to get back up to the streets,” I said. “Where are all of you going?”

  He paused, eyes just widening ever so much.

  “Is just me.”

  I glanced over at the corner, and saw a little bit of a snout. And something that seemed like feathers.

  “Man,” I said, “elves have darkvision. I can see you, and I can see your buddy’s nose.”

  The kobold looked over to the side, and said something in a sibilant language.

  Smashing! You’ve learned a new language, Common Kobold.

  “— said he sees you,” the kobold finished.

  And now I knew Kobold. Definitely one of my favorite skills. Or Abilities. Whatever.

  “He can’t see me,” the other kobold said. “I am hidden. Tell him you are alone.”

  I shook my head. These guys were fun, but I wasn’t quite sure if I should let them know I spoke their language yet. Though realistically, I couldn’t imagine they had much in the way of information I needed to glean carefully from them. But they did seem very comfortable in the sewers, and that made me think they might be able to guide me around. Provided I was nice to them.

  “Nope,” the fully visible kobold said. “All alone.”

  “Okay, well,” I said, “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should. Am very honest.”

  “What about the other one? Is he honest as well?”

  “Yes. Both of us, trustworthy.”

  “So there are two of you here?”

  The visible kobold looked over at his buddy, and I could almost hear the ‘hidden’ kobold sighing. The guy stepped
out, and looked over at me. He was a little different looking than the first. Similar clothing and armor, all scrounged and ‘improved,’ but instead of the pebbly dragon sort of skin, he was covered in long, fine white hair. Or feathers. Hard to tell. The kobold was very hesitant when he saw me looking at him, almost like he was afraid I might just leap and attack him at first sight.

  I gave the formerly hidden one a little nod.

  “You kill me now?” the hidden one asked.

  “Uh, no,” I replied. “Why would I?”

  “Most humans kill snowbolds on sight.”

  “What’s a snowbold?”

  The formerly-hidden guy, apparently a snowbold, pointed to himself. I also noticed that the other kobold helpfully pointed to his buddy.

  “Well, I’m an elf, so I don’t know about that. Any particular reason I’d attack you?” I asked.

  “Nooooo…” the snowbold said.

  “Okay, so there might be a reason,” I said. “But no, I’m not planning on it.”

  “Don’t tell him about us,” came another voice from around the corner, again speaking in kobold.

  I sighed.

  “Guys,” I said, this time using their language, “can we cut the crap?”

  There was a stillness as the two kobolds I could see stared at me. And then the eight other kobold heads popped around the corner to stare at me.

  “You speak the language,” the first kobold said.

  “The language?” I asked, a little stunned at the presumption their language was The language. But whatever, it was natural for them think highly of themselves. I suppose that’s sometimes how people view New Yorkers when we call it The City. But, you know, we’re right. It is The City. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  All of the kobolds and snowbolds — there were two more of those in the group — stood just around three feet in height. The main area of difference between them all, other than color or slight differences in facial structure, seemed to be in musculature. Some were heavily muscled, though still short, and others were almost emaciated. But from my perspective, it was impossible to discern if those discrepancies were indicative of any hierarchy. It definitely didn’t come from what they wore, since everyone had customized scavenged armor. They all had low-quality weapons, and at least three had helmets they had to continually push up in order to actually see out from under. One of them had a full coverage helm with the visor ripped off to allow its snout to come through. It was quite a sight.