This Class is Bonkers! (This Trilogy is Broken (A Comedy Litrpg Adventure) Book 2)

by J. P. Valentine

  The man bowed lower than Eve might’ve thought possible, his fine purple and gold tunic brushing the ale-stained floor. “My apologies, Your Excellency. I came as soon as I received word that a foreign dignitary had arrived in Pyrindel. Please accept the crown’s deepest regrets that we failed to provide you a proper welcome.”

  Eve gaped. Wes and Preston shared a confused look. Art giggled.

  The Steward stood upright. “If you will forgive my ignorance, Your Excellency, might I inquire which of the free tribes and nations you represent?”

  “No, she’s not actu—” Wes tried to explain before Eve managed to cut him off with her own reply.

  “New Burendia,” she said. “I represent New Burendia.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Emissary

  “EXCELLENT,” THE STEWARD replied after only a moment’s silence. “If your business is complete here, please allow me to escort you to the royal palace. Her majesty would be happy to welcome you under her roof while you arrange more permanent lodgings.”

  Preston opened his mouth to speak, but the Steward seemed to predict his question. “Your guards, of course, are welcome to join you. We wouldn’t dare separate our esteemed visitor from her retinue.”

  The best Eve could manage was a tight-lipped smile and a simple, “Alright. Let’s go, then.”

  The man clapped his hands a single time. “Wonderful. Please, follow me.” Stepping back, he swung open the guild hall door, swiveling to the side to allow Eve through first. He released it as Wes stepped through, forcing the fire mage to stop and grab it or else receive a doorknob to the stomach.

  “My name is Charles,” the man said as he led them through the busy streets of Pyrindel. “Fourth Steward to the royal palace at Pyrindel. I sincerely apologize that the First Steward was not available to greet you himself. I was simply the only Steward available on such short notice. I fear your advance missive must’ve been lost in transit.”

  Eve simply nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Relief washed across Charles’s face. “My thanks, Your Excellency, for your lenience. We mean neither you nor the great nation of New Burendia any slight.”

  “Great nation, huh?” Wes asked under his breath. “When do you think he’ll realize ‘New Burendia’ doesn’t exist?”

  “Who’s to say he ever does?” Eve whispered back. “He’s clearly too scared of offending me to ask.”

  Preston shook his head. “This is a terrible idea.”

  Charles, oblivious to their exchange, continued his diplomatic rambling. “Most Emissaries choose to purchase manors in the vicinity of the palace for their own comfort and convenience, though those on shorter missions often elect to remain at the palace for the full duration of their stay. I am, of course, at your service if you desire assistance in the acquiring of a permanent residence.”

  Eve kept her mouth shut, allowing the conversation to fall into silence for a grand total of forty seconds before Charles got going again.

  “Leshk is proud to consider itself the most prosperous of the human kingdoms, owed mostly to the success of our adventurer’s guild providing an outlet for our best and brightest to learn and grow against challenges suited to their progress. Of course, Xandria’s Teeth to the north and the Strian Sea to the south and west serve as natural barricades to any monster incursion, further sheltering our great kingdom from the dangers…”

  Right about there was when Eve began tuning the man out. She knew all about the monster-ridden wilderness surrounding Leshk, just as well as she knew the country’s system for defending itself. She’d lived both.

  As Charles continued to drone on about the niceties of Leshkian trade and culture with which Eve was already far too familiar, the Defiant redirected her attention to the city around her.

  With every step the buildings grew larger, cleaner, and further apart. Manicured trees lined the avenues as butchers and armor smiths gave way to jewelers, cafes, and boutiques. It all reminded Eve of the inner city of Ilvia, but again, as were all things in Pyrindel, it was bigger.

  Even the shops dried up as the party approached the palace. In their place, expansive mansions dominated the roadside. From their pristinely engineered stone walls or wrought iron fences to lush yet sterile gardens to the sheer architectural beauty of the structures themselves, each of the houses Eve saw was more extravagant than the last. There could be no doubt that a residence close to the palace was worth more than the ground on which it stood, and the same could be said for the proclamation of wealth each grandiose structure made.

  Eve decided then and there that she’d rather like to retire to such a mansion. Fuck a quiet life in a small town with a doting spouse and handful of kids. What was the point of risking one’s life fighting high-level monsters if it didn’t earn enough money to live in style?

  Eve’s train of thought came to a quick halt as so too did the road: at an open bronze gate manned by four guards. At the sight of Charles, they waved the party through.

  “The guard staff will, of course, be given your description and information regarding your station,” the Steward explained as he led them across a wide courtyard to a set of double doors. “You and your retinue are free to travel the palace grounds as you please, though I’m sure I don’t need to remind Your Excellency how highly Leshkian society values etiquette. I would, of course, suggest your beastmaster keeps his pets on a tight leash. We can inform the guards, but if the wrong guest were to encounter an unsupervised monster in the palace halls, the outcome could be… less than favorable.”

  You don’t look so hot either, Art sent out to all present.

  Eve snorted. Preston paled. Charles froze.

  Wes gave the hatchling a high-five.

  After several seconds of panicked mental calculation, Charles seemed to figure out the source of the telepathic comment and proceeded to engage in a motion that was somewhere between bowing very quickly and falling to the floor.

  “Forgive my rudeness!” he begged. “I never intended to imply Your Excellency’s companions are in any way below my humble self. Please, accept my earnest apology.”

  Eve spent a few seconds staring in disbelief at the arguably pathetic display of diplomatic back-bending before muttering an uncomfortable, “It’s—um—really okay. Wes has been teaching Art to say that for a long time.”

  Hesitantly, Charles stood, brushing off a bit of dust from his ornate tunic. “Thank you, Your Excellency, for your understanding. Please, your suite is this way.” The moment completely forgotten, he turned on a heel to open the door for them.

  Eve stared in stunned silence as they walked through the halls of the palace. Carpet of royal purple lined the marble floor, embroidered every few feet with an Elric house crest of the crispest detail. Intricate designs of gold decorated the vaulted ceiling, while the walls played home to gorgeous landscapes and lifelike portraits the likes of which Eve had never seen.

  Whether or not this particular hallway that Charles had led them to had been designed to make a lasting impression of elegance and wealth on new visitors, on Eve at least, it most certainly had.

  The opulence diminished somewhat, though never faded entirely, as the party traveled through halls and up several flights of stairs into a distant wing of the overbearing structure. Charles, being Charles, spent the walk droning on about this sculpture or that tapestry, not realizing his lecture fell on deaf ears.

  Eve was too busy imagining what her room would be like.

  It was only when the foppish Steward stopped before a pair of beautifully carved white wooden double doors that Eve actually made an effort to hear the words coming from his overactive mouth.

  “Here we are,” he said, reaching forward to grasp the door handle. “I hope you’ll find the accommodations to your liking.” Charles, as per usual, swung the door open and held it for Eve.

  Stepping inside, Eve couldn’t help but feel a pang of curious disappointment to find a small, ten-foot-wide chamber with empty walls,
no carpet, and no furniture save for a simple table with a vaseful of assorted flowers. Not without hope, Eve immediately turned left to one of the doors that stood on each of the rooms four walls.

  “Not that one!” Charles almost tripped over himself trying to stop her. “Pardon, Your Excellency, but the two side chambers are for your guards and servants. They are not outfitted for a guest of such esteem as yourself.”

  Eve was growing increasingly sick to her stomach with the Steward’s eagerness to avoid offense. Were other Emissaries so terrible as to warrant it, or was Charles in particular just so obscenely overachieving to put forth such ridiculous effort?

  Eve sighed. “Alright. Which one is mine, then?”

  Charles gestured to the door directly opposite the entrance. “The front door, of course.”

  Right, Eve thought. Of course it’s the front door, because diplomats would be offended if they had to turn left. She shook her head, allowing the overeager Steward to again hold the door for her.

  “Now this is more like it,” Eve caught herself muttering.

  Across the room, a vibrant blue canopy embroidered with gold hung above the biggest and softest-looking bed Eve had ever seen. A robust wooden trunk bound in iron sat conveniently at the bed’s foot, accompanied by a mahogany wardrobe for hanging all the dresses she didn’t own.

  Two fireplaces and a brazier, all lit, drove away the late autumn chill with vigor matching that of the Steward himself. Eve’s eyes, however, didn’t fixate on the huge bed nor on the elegant breakfast table or cozy armchairs or ornate writing desk.

  The windows claimed her attention.

  Three magically enforced single panes stretched fifteen feet from floor to their arched tops. At four feet wide, they flooded the bedroom with natural light, a feature thankfully optional if the lavish curtains tied up on either side were any indicator.

  The view was, naturally, stunning. From Eve’s vantage on the palace’s upper floor, the entire city of Pyrindel stretched out before her. Houses and shops and restaurants and taverns carpeted the landscape reaching out seemingly infinitely in every direction.

  Until they didn’t. In one direction, the most important direction of all given the arrangement of the windows, the city came to an abrupt halt to make way for the boundless ocean and the glimmering horizon that had so captivated Eve on their voyage east.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Charles breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I’m glad Your Excellency finds the view acceptable. Once you get settled in, please send for me or another Steward if you’d like to arrange an audience with Queen Elric or one of her advisors regarding whatever New Burendian business you come on or if you desire an introduction.”

  “Perhaps another time,” Eve replied a bit quicker than she should have. “I’d like to—uh—explore the city a bit before getting down to business.”

  “As you wish.” Charles bowed one last time, keeping his head low as he said, “And welcome, Your Excellency, to Pyrindel.” With that, the Steward stood, turned on a heel, and left Eve and her companions finally alone.

  Wes was the first to speak. “What the ever-loving fuck was that?”

  Eve shrugged. “Diplomacy? Either that or he just really likes licking boots.”

  “He’s probably used to only seeing relics who’ve been Envoys for fifty years before finally making it to Emissary,” Wes laughed. “I guess all it takes is one grumpy old man to ruin a trade deal or start a war.”

  “Which is exactly why this is a terrible idea,” Preston, the one somewhat sensible member of the part, argued. “Whatever Appraise says, you’re no Emissary. We shouldn’t be here.”

  “Well I thi…” Eve trailed off as an azure notification popped up in the corner of her vision. “Actually,” she said, pulling it up to read it, “I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

  Legendary Quest Milestone Reached: Become Ambassador of a Nation that Doesn’t Exist!

  +64000 exp!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Registration Aggravation

  “GODS BELOW.” WES rubbed his temples. “You can’t seriously be telling me posing as an Emissary was a fucking milestone.”

  Eve shrugged, snatching an apple from the tastefully arranged bowl of fruit on the suite’s breakfast table. “Yep,” she said. “Guess we’re staying.”

  “But why?” Preston asked. “What do we actually get by taking that risk?”

  Eve took a bite of her apple, her shoulders visibly relaxing as its sweet juice ran over her tongue. She swallowed. “You should really try one of these. They’re real tasty.”

  Preston sighed. “Okay, besides the free fruit and the fancy bed and the nice view, what are you actually accomplishing by posing as an Emissary?”

  “I’m lying low.”

  Wes snorted. “You call this lying low? That Steward offered you an audience with the bloody queen!”

  “Which I’m not gonna take,” Eve argued. “If we tell people I’m not an Emissary, they’ll start asking why I Appraise as one and what I actually am. The most logical answer is spy. And if I even could convince them of the truth, that’d be a quick way to get drafted into the army or killed by some noble brat looking to prove himself.”

  Preston’s voice rose to a sharp whisper. “You can let people think you’re an Emissary without making up a country to con your way into the palace!”

  “But that’s suspicious,” Eve replied. “They know I’m not a Leshkian Emissary because I’ve never been to the capital before. They know I’m probably not human because the whole…” She waved a hand over her glowing eyes and neck. “…everything. The only reasonable explanation is that I’m from some nonhuman nation they’ve never heard of, or I’m not actually an Emissary and I’m up to no good.”

  “And when the queen decides she wants to send a diplomatic mission to New Burendia? Or some advisor tries to negotiate a trade deal?”

  Eve shrugged. “I won’t let them. Maybe I don’t trust them enough to reveal my kingdom’s location. Maybe I tell them we live in the Dead Fields. Manahearts are immune to the poison there.”

  Preston shook his head. “I don’t like it. There’s too many ways for this to go wrong.”

  “There’s ways for every option to go wrong.” Eve leaned back against the bed frame, the soft silk of canopy brushing across her hair. “At least this one comes with some nice perks.”

  Wow, these are tasty! The thought reached all three of the adventurers’ minds at once as Art held a fig to his mouth with two taloned hands.

  Reginald, meanwhile, stood on his hind legs to stick his entire face into the fruit bowl.

  “Regi, no!” Preston yelled before clamping his mouth shut to communicate mentally with the oversized reptilian dog.

  The drakeling whimpered at being told no but did back down from the breakfast table, fruit juice dripping down his jaw.

  “See?” Eve grinned. “The kiddos like it here too.”

  “Alright,” Preston grumbled, leaning over to wipe off Reginald’s face, “we can stay. Just long enough to keep up appearances. As soon as we can I want to either buy a house or leave town; the further we are from the palace the easier it will be to escape notice.”

  Eve nodded. “Out of sight, out of mind and all that. Deal.”

  “Wait, I’m sorry,” Wes interrupted. “Did you just say you wanted to buy a house?”

  “Why not? We have all this gold from the griffin claws and leviathan scales, and it would let Eve pass as an Emissary without drawing any attention. Nothing fancy, of course, we don’t have infinite money, and the whole point is to avoid notice, not enter the noble dick-measuring contest outside.”

  But there aren’t any nobles outside, Art sent, his nose pressed to the window.

  Preston reddened. “No—Art—that’s not what—” He sighed. “We’re talking about houses.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Eve said. “The house thing, not the dick-measuring thing. It’d be nice havi
ng our own place, if only to have a place to keep our stuff. Do you have any idea how many things I didn’t buy in Ilvia because they would’ve been impractical to travel with?”

  “I wouldn’t get too excited,” the healer warned. “Houses in Pyrindel are expensive, and we’re going to need a nice one if you want to keep up appearances. After supplies, armor repairs, and potions, there might not be much gold left for frivolous purchases.”

  “Hey, a ballgown is absolutely not frivolous,” Eve insisted. “I’m an Emissary, remember? Gotta dress to impress.”

  Wes held his head in his palm. “See, I knew we shouldn’t have encouraged her.”

  “Those are some strong words for someone who still owes me three scones.”

  “We’re in the fucking palace! Just ask a Page to fetch you some.”

  A sly grin crossed Eve’s face. “I am. His name is Wes. He’s a bit slow sometimes, but it’s hard to find good help these days.”

  “Keep going and he’s gonna help you be on fire.”

  “Alright, alright,” Preston intervened, “we can make fun of each other later. For now we should get unpacked, find a safe place to stow the gold, and figure out sleeping arrangements.”

  “Well that last one’s easy,” Eve said. “I’ll take the big bed, for appearance’s sake of course.” She winked. “And there’s two rooms for guards and servants. One for you two and one for the kids.”

  “We’re well past maintaining appearances in here,” Wes argued. “Besides, there’s two of us and one of you. We should get the big bed.”

  Preston let out a long-suffering sigh. “No, she’s right. The last thing we need is someone to come knocking while Eve is in the ‘servant’s quarters.’”

  Eve’s grin was as shit-eating as they came. “Good. As for the gold, unless there’s a safe hidden somewhere, the trunk looks like our best bet. Lock on that thing looks like it could stop an axe.”

  “Doesn’t that seem a bit obvious?”