by Alston Sleet
When the king found the door to the mansion locked, he gestured to the larger of the two elite [Warriors] to break the door down. Rearing back, the large man shifted forward in a blur of metal as his boot slammed into the door. Locked, but not barred, the door slammed against the wall, snapping a hinge from the wall in the sudden collision of metal and wood. The [Warrior] stepped forward and held the entrance with weapon drawn while the rest of the soldiers fanned out to surround the mansion. The elite squad drew their weapons and followed the large [Warrior], the king, and Josedus inside.
From the side hall, the head butler of the estate tried to stop the elite party but was quickly knocked unconscious by the massive fist of the lead [Warrior]. Just off the entrance vestibule was the main greeting hall, and this is where most of the council was gathered. Quickly assessing the room to contain no one of danger, the sizeable man-made room for the king and Josedus to follow. The elite squad swiftly took up station around the room with weapons still drawn, leaving one of the [Warriors] to guard the entranceway
Drawing himself up, the king gripped his shirtfront before speaking, “So. This is where my traitorous council has gone.”
The gathered men stared at the king in fear, of them only Gardflow and his door guard beside him were standing. Smoothing his clothes over his slightly rotund form, Gardflow turned to the king and ignored the rest of the men in the room, “My king, while I am normally delighted at your appearance at my home, this is a private meeting of House business, and I must ask you to leave.”
Josedus felt the cold sweat on his back below his casual robes begin to make a long line down his spine. The king's actions had only become more erratic since the young [Paladin] entered the dungeon. In the short time since she had stopped responding to the king's messages, his actions had shifted from erratic to outright insane. Josedus had spent almost eight hours straight divining everything within the kingdom imaginable. The northern border, the progress of the reported Church group from the west, where the different noble house representatives were, and more. When the king’s [Spy Master] determined that all but two members of the council had joined Gardflow on short notice, with no party or announcement, the king decided a coup was in the offing no matter what his skill said. Quickly swigging again from his tonic, Josedus clenched his hands around the container in a bitter attempt at familiar comfort.
The king’s eyes nearly bulged from his skull with the disrespectful rebuke, “House business? House business you snake! I know you and your business! You are here to join forces against me! Look at you.”
At the king's unhinged response, the gathered nobles flinched back from the rabid words. Most of these men were predominantly focused on classes revolving around trade, politics, and other such noble pursuits. A few might have combat oriented classes or skills, but in general, they focused on less physical pursuits. The vocal demands combined with being surrounded by high-level combat classes left them unnerved. Most of the elite squad were famous for killing truly disturbingly strong monsters, and to have them in all in one room with weapons drawn, backed by a screaming king, was enough to unnerve most into silence.
Looking around at the gathered men, the king continued his questions, “Where is Galfer Silversmithe? Was the prissy shit too afraid to join your treason? How about Mister Yow, that bloated purse stealer.”
Something in what the king said seemed to calm Gardflow because he waved off his guard while returning to his seat. His smooth motions were refuted by the sweat on his forehead. Pulling his chair forward at the head of the table, Gardflow clasped his hands together and rested them in front of himself. Gardflow leaned forward in a seeming earnest effort to reach the king in his growing madness.
“Your majesty, Galfer Silversmithe has returned to his family home. He received a message that his brother-in-law, while out of the kingdom, has been taken by the Church of Vetta in response to crimes against the Church during the rule of the [Tyrant King].”
The gathered nobles turned to the king and stared, waiting for a response. If this gathering had not been in response to the king's writ to the Church, it was now. The Church, during the years of the [Tyrant King], routinely ignored the crimes of the nobles except when the king had need of them to act. This act of hypocrisy was part of the exchange between the fanatical Church and the violence of the [Tyrant King]. To break such an unspoken agreement, even before their return to the kingdom, spoke poorly of the power of the [Rebel King] and his vaunted skill. Did his skill fail him? Did he just ignore it? Was he losing his mind and striking out at shadows even while the forces of the Church slip a dagger in his back?
Josedus knew the truth; the king's skill was silent to any act outside his controlled domain. The Church's actions were a whisper that they knew his skill's limitations. Given the look on Gardflow’s face and the manner in which he informed the king, it was likely he knew those limitations as well. Simply slip outside the borders of the kingdom to plot your treason without taking any action inside its limits, and upon entering the king's domain, his skill would remain silent. It would be difficult to plot a rebellion under such restrictions, but not impossible.
“As for Mister Yow, I normally don't care about a commoners actions, but I have recently found much of the Merchant Coalition selling lands and property. I wonder if the damn merchants know of some calamity we do not. What do you think your majesty?”
Smiling, Gardflow drew back his clasped hands and leaned back into his well-appointed seat.
The room remained silent as the noble’s eyes flicked between the king and Gardflow. They each waited and watched to see what the next play in this act would be. Stepping around the table slowly, the king forced his face into neutrality before he pulled his ceremonial sword and drove it through Gardflow's chest. The gathered men in fancy clothes slammed back in their seats and attempted to scramble away from the king and the large man pinned to his gilded chair. The king’s sword was ceremonial and not designed for the abuse it was suffering, the blade sinking only a short distance into Gardflows chest before it stopped. Gardflow’s large hands grasped at the dull sword that pierced his lung while bloody foam collected on his lips. The elite squad of monster killers just watched as their king murdered a noble in his own home, none worried about the gathered low-level non-combatants.
Yanking his sword from the wound, the king pulled his dagger and shoved it into Gardflows neck. The wounded man's weak resistance was no match for the king's anger. With the withdrawing of his sword, the stunned nobles started to shout and scramble to leave the room, even as the large [Warrior] guarding the exit struck the first to reach it with a contemptuous pommel strike. The flood of frightened nobles came to a halt at the fall of the first man hit. Wide-eyed they looked around to find an exit.
Josedus stared at his king as he murdered a noble who had supported his reign for almost ten years, a man who had worked hard to provide a peaceful and stable kingdom. The [Royal Diviner] never liked Elt Gardflow, he never liked any of the nobles, but Gardflow was perhaps one of the worst the king could have harmed. If he had struck down one of the minor nobles, it might have been smoothed over. Unlikely, but possible, but the House of Gardflow would never stand for the murder of their representative in his own home. When Duke Gardflow heard of the death of his cousin, the [Assassins] would be sent for the king.
This was the start of a civil war.
The ruler wiped his sword off on Gardflow’s clothes as the man’s body slumped forward. Resheathing his sword, the king faced the doorway and the gathered nobles.
Gesturing to the giant [Warrior], the king said calmly, “Tern, shackle these traitors. Deliver them to the [Spy Master].”
The march to the castle with almost every noble representative in tow was a surreal walk for Josedus. The king seemed to be in good spirits, his mouth spread in a slight smile during the silent trip. The council members walked in a staggered confusion, with the soldiers surrounding them.
Josedus found himself focused on the
king. Memories of the man he was, the things the king stood for, and the things he had sacrificed for the rebel who risked it all for the kingdom. He kept flashing back to rebellions he had uncovered for the king, difficult divinations he had spent weeks creating so that the king could see beneath the wards of some co-conspirator's home.
The [Royal Diviner] walked in a haze behind his king as he entered the royal quarters. Once again he followed his monarch beyond the prescribed limits of his public and private life and intruded on his king. The door to the king’s private quarters closed behind Josedus, and the king slumped, his body no longer as relaxed or as full of life. Now the king seemed to drag himself forward to sit in a comfortable chair across from his magician, the slump of his shoulders and the weariness in his eyes speaking volumes to his friend.
Josedus found himself in an odd mood, unable to accept that the man before him was the same as the young man who had risked his all for the kingdom.
“Do you think your actions wise?”
The king rubbed his hand across his eyes and pulled them away when he noticed the drying blood on his hands, still sticky from Gardflow’s lifeblood. Pulling a cloth from his coat, he began to dry his hands before he looked up and responded to his friend’s words.
“Wise? No. Necessary? Yes,” the king sighed before continuing, “My skill screams at me Josedus, it hammers at my mind at all times. I can feel the rebellion all around me, and it grows louder every moment.”
The king stared down at his empty hands before he whispered, his words loud in the emptiness of the room, “I’m afraid.”
Moving forward, Josedus kneeled before his king, his knees aching at the strain of movements on old joints. He reached his hand out for his king, gripping his friend’s hand in his before he drove the hidden knife into the king’s chest. The king stared wide-eyed and silent into the diviner’s face, the knife in his heart stopping him from calling out, his knuckles turning white as he gripped Josedus’ hand, and his other hand weakly grasping at the older man’s robe.
Josedus rested his head against the king's brow as the struggles slowed, before he whispered, “I’m sorry, I won’t live through another [Tyrant King].”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Denda's Secret Revealed
Wordlessly, I screamed as I released the mana that was holding the dimensional expansion open. With the release of my hold, the three meters wide, eight meters deep cleaver of metal that was hidden within a centimeter deep pocket in the walls suddenly accelerated across the two-meter wide hallway. A split second after I released one side, I let my hold go on the second trap on the other side of the corridor.
When I designed this trap, I had high hopes. Suddenly having an eight-meter deep blade filling a space only a centimeter deep meant the edge extended out of the wall at high speed. During testing, I was able to embed almost a meter of the blade into the opposite wall before the pressure from the other seven meters trying to be crammed through itself would cause the metal to bulge and explode into flying shards of destruction. Even when the blades had been reinforced with [Will of the World], the results had still resembled the aftermath of a grenade.
One blade slammed into the top of the shield and bent upwards while shoving the paladin and her shield to the side of the tunnel. The second blade bounced her off the opposite wall. My original hope for this bladed trap was to catch whoever entered in a crossfire of exploding blade fragments, maybe slicing them into small pieces. After watching her dome stop dozens of cuts and bone-crushing impacts, I was no longer expecting it to halt the paladin with a direct application of force. My hope was now to snap the woman's neck from the whiplash of being thrown from side to side. If she died of a snapped neck, the spell would have nothing to heal. Again, my hopes were dashed. The paladin’s neck made a horrible cracking sound on the first impact, but it failed to kill her. The second impact just drove her body further into the wall with a soft thump. The shield spell was no longer even tied to the paladin being aware. The healing and shield continued while she laid there. During this, the mage just watched the violence. He never moved to help her, nor was he moved when the shield was slammed around. The paladin’s shield spell was tied directly to the woman and pushing her, or it would push the other.
None of my monsters or traps were in a position to take advantage of the unshielded mage, not that I thought he would be stopped by them. The fact that I couldn’t even try before he stepped back through the paladin's shield, induced blinding rage in me and my instincts. Her protection would let him in and out without resistance, but it stopped traps and monsters cold.
In the last few hours, I had come to know despair and desperation. The white shield around the paladin had been reinforced layer after layer, with the not-mana that had been reserved for only healing before. Now the paladin was a glowing dome of white shells, each protected by the divine power of her god. Each time a shell would fail, she would increase the intensity of her prayers, and a new shell would spring back around her.
At one point I had started to win out; her glowing sword and shield were rapidly draining her of mana, while my offense had grown until she was slowed to a crawl. I had almost rejoiced at that point. Then the divine power that had been only reserved for healing her suddenly began to power her shield as well. With her mana being used to power just her sword, she started to make new progress. My greatest success was when a lucky trap had caught her hand as it had dipped outside of her too closely formed magic shield. The trap's metal edge skipped across the curve of her shield, passed behind the bottom of her closed fist, and then sheared through her hand until the blade split when it reached her glowing sword. I watched the young paladin stare at her hand for a moment while her weapon clattered across the ground. Her face paled as she began to scream in terror at her maiming. For just a moment, the decision to flee flickered across her face, but then the healing spell which had been working on her whole body had suddenly focused around her head. From then on she chanted prayers non stop and never even flinched at injuries. Whatever her healing spell was doing now, it was more than just healing.
After the spell forced her into maddened prayer, the mage kept loops of mana closely bundled between them. The mage still let the shield take the blows of traps and monsters, but it was apparent to anyone with mana sight that the mage was ready to defend himself against the paladin at any moment. I couldn’t even fault him for it, her shrieked prayers about the light and order were unhinged and frightening by that point. After grabbing her sword with her off hand, she kept her injured hand into her side and continued fighting. Her stump eventually healed over, but the healing spell didn’t regrow her hand, it merely sealed the wound. She never even glanced at it while she strode forward through my traps and monsters. She was far more clumsy left-handed, her stance and attacks entirely off, but she was essentially immune while her attacks tore through my monsters.
Before their proximity had stopped entirely my ability to conjure materials and monsters I had upgraded my ogres with magical weapons from my treasury. If I made it out of this, I made a promise to myself to stop thinking of this as a game, to stop thinking that I was safe and instead to see my existence as the fight for survival it was. The giant sword I gave my last ogre had been quickly modified to have an edge backed by unpowered mana stone. I hoped that it would channel away some of the power from the paladin’s enchanted blade and allow my ogre to last longer than the few seconds the rest had. If I was lucky, it might be able to crack through the shield protecting her.
Two more ogres were killed before the duo reached the last few meters from my core. My core was situated on my little pedestal around a right angle turn in the corridor. Leaving my core with a line of sight down the long tunnel had been an obvious mistake to avoid. Too bad I hadn’t planned to use manastone like a conductive wire to pump my wildly flowing mana into other parts of my dungeon. If I had anticipated that far ahead, this entire pathway could have been a dead end and one among many instead of the sole tra
il to follow. While a divinely powered paladin and a powerful dimensional mage were a duo uniquely balanced to brave my dungeon, if I had planned ahead it would have taken the forces of an entire kingdom to reach my core. With my mana stream correctly funneled to reduce the pressure, I could have shrunk my pathways into crawlways. I could have practiced and learned other types of magic, fire, ice, electricity, and acid sprays! I could have built elaborate traps of water or gravity or a thousand different possible ways to kill. With my [Far Seeing], I should have been spying on mages instead of following dwarves and lizard love triangles. Ogres with armor, weapons, and trained with skill stones would have been thousands of times more potent than the dumb brutes with crude metal clubs I was using now. The life of a dungeon was all about foresight and planning, two things I had failed at over and over again, in this life and the last.
I stationed my magically geared ogre directly beyond my final trap. I would command him to attack once the paladin had stationed herself on top of the trap. The one-handed paladin didn’t even hesitate when my ogre brandished his manastone lined sword. The healing spell didn’t just remove doubt and fear, it also dulled her caution. Rushing forward with her sword cocked to slice through my ogre, she didn’t dodge or block as the manastone lined sword slammed down on her shield. Unfortunately, the manastone didn’t disrupt the protection. Whatever form the mana was in, it didn’t want to shift away from how it was shaped. Despite the failure of the sword to cut through her shield, it still succeeded in driving her to a knee. It was in the moment where she was stopped in front of my ogre, with her forward momentum blocked, that I triggered my trap. In every case before, a trap would slice in from the sides or rarely from below. This was the only trap in my entire maze that came from above. That slight misdirection, that tiny moment of hesitation where she hunkered down to absorb the next movement, was all I needed as the multi-ton block stationed above the paladin fell and settled on her shield.
