by Hugo Huesca
“No.”
“I am to protect your life with mine at all costs,” Steros said bleakly.
Ed blinked. Korghiran had done what?
“Don’t give me that look,” Steros said, clenching his hand into a fist. “I am the best my family has to offer. I have trained for the Lordship since I could speak, and I am a prodigy with the sword. As long as I am brave, there is nothing I cannot overcome.”
Shit, Ed thought. It turns out I was the asshole. He had thought Steros hated him because of Xorander’s attention, when actually the young Dungeon Lord had a fairly solid reason.
They were alike, in a way. Two men manipulated by the Dark into doing its bidding. They had been granted power beyond a normal human’s comprehension, but at the price of serving the will of the children of Murmur, whether they wanted to or not. And if they failed in their mission, it was their loved ones who would pay the price.
He also realized that Steros talked so much about courage and bravery precisely because he was scared.
Who wouldn’t? Ed was afraid as well, and he had resources that House Steros lacked.
“Lord Steros, please accept my apologies,” Ed said, offering the Dungeon Lord his hand again. “I was under the impression you were a boy, but I now realize you are a man, shouldering the weight of a man’s responsibilities. When the Endeavor arrives, do what you think is best for your house. I can take care of myself and do not need Korghiran’s babying me.”
Steros’ eyes widened, and he glanced at Ed’s hand, mistrust in his eyes. “So you’re saying you don’t want my help?”
“Precisely. I am a Dungeon Lord. Korghiran is my Patron, not my master, so I am free to reject any pact she made in my name. If during the Endeavor you consider that you and I being enemies will benefit your house, follow that course of action to the end. On the other hand, if you think that us being allies will benefit your family more, then let us stand side by side against our enemies.”
Steros’ Evil Eye flashed green for a moment, like a flame roused briefly by a passing gust of wind. He looked at Ed as if he had just seen him for the first time. “None of the others have talked to me as if I existed at all. They only see my age and my experience points.” He accepted the handshake. “You may be a foreigner, but you are right. The Patrons presume too much to rule over us like common minions. We are the mortal sons of Murmur, so we are free to pursue our own goals.”
Ed grinned. That hadn’t been exactly what he meant, but it would suffice for the moment. It wouldn’t be easy to shake off a lifetime of Dark indoctrination, but Steros was young. There was potential there.
“How adorable,” cooed a man behind Ed. “The two Lords that don’t belong have forged a friendship. It warms my black heart.”
“It’s you,” Ed said, turning around, his hand probing for his missing sword. “How brave of you to show your face near me, Vandran.”
Lord Sanguine Vandran was flanked by his companion, a muscular man dressed in fitted silks, and the Bone Lady. The Dungeon Lord of Vandran glanced at Ed with clear scorn.
“Lord Vandran,” said Steros. “What do you want?”
“I’m just visiting Lord Wright. Since he is your new friend, why don’t you ask him to gift you one of his precious towers?” Sanguine asked. “Murmur knows how much Lotia needs those designs, yet he has refused to share it with us. The blood of every single Dungeon Lord who has died ever since his minions created the Scrambling design is on his hands.”
Ed raised an eyebrow and wondered what would happen if he fireballed Vandran on the spot. Vaines likely wouldn’t be too happy about that. “You tried to kill me and invaded my city. Fuck off, you aren’t getting a thing from me.”
“Kill you? No, you made it perfectly clear that’s a bad approach. I wanted to kidnap you. That’s why my minions used sleeping draught instead of something more lethal. At most, I hoped to create a presence in Undercity so you would actually talk with us instead of insulting our envoys!”
“Well, we are talking now. Go fuck yourself before I gut you and feed you to my chickens, you piece of shit.” Evil Eyes flared among the Dungeon Lords as Ed and Vandran squared against each other. “No one touches my city, Sanguine.”
“That’s Lord Vandran to you, Wright.”
The Bone Lady scowled. “You have the mouth of a Starevosi sailor, Lord Wright. Even among enemies, the Dungeon Lords have manners. Lord Vandran attacked your dungeon, so what? That’s like a friendly wave around here. Don’t take it personally. It is you who forced him to try a more direct approach.”
“Well, forgive my manners, but who the fuck are you?”
“I am Lady Talon of House Redwood, master of all the dungeons—”
“Well, Talon of Redwood, let me tell you where you and your friend here can stick your friendly fucking wave…” So Ed told them, and in that moment it was like an entire army of Starevosi Thieves, smugglers, and pirates were all channeling their most inventive expletives through him.
By the time he was done, a small crowd of Dungeon Lords and companions had formed around them, exactly like a circle of spectators appearing out of nowhere before a schoolyard fight broke out.
“How dare you?” Lady Redwood asked, eyes wide like dishes. “You are nothing more than a brute. Who let you in?” She turned to the circle, which looked eager to see where things were headed. “Who invited this rabid dog to a Lotian house?”
“My Lady Redwood, all the names he called us—and our honored mothers—are lesser insults than the supposed deal he offered me in exchange for one of his towers,” said Sanguine. They were acting like childish instigators, playing for the crowd more than actually addressing Ed, who could feel his anger growing with every word they said. “Tell them, Lord Wright. Or is it Lord Wraith? That is what they call you, is it not? A wraith is a violent, mindless undead that lashes out at everyone and everything. Violence is all it knows. Quite a fitting name for you.” He jabbed a finger Ed’s way, but from enough of a distance that Ed couldn’t reach and break it. “He told me I’d have to become his minion if I wanted a tower! That’s the kind of company you’re keeping, Lord Steros!”
The crowd reacted as if Ed had just spit on their mothers’ graves. He fought the need to roll his eyes—so he had made the murderous bastards angry? Well, good!
“We best put this mutt down before he runs rampart in the precious Factory and ruins it for us all,” Sanguine went on.
Calm down, Ed’s better judgment told him from the small corner of his mind it had been confined to. You’re losing control of the situation and letting Sanguine play these idiots like a fiddle. If he gets them angry enough, they’ll backstab you as soon as you enter the Standard Factory.
Well what am I supposed to do, stay still and take it? Ed thought. Perhaps he should just let the matter drop instead of opening his mouth and making it worse. The heroes in Alder’s tales always suffered ignominy in silence until they were vindicated later in the story by their actions.
On the other hand, he was a Dungeon Lord. He was the villain those heroes faced at the end. In a way, Sanguine just taught you an important lesson. Social violence is just as effective as the visceral kind, he thought. This is just another type of ambush. So do what you did last time he attacked you. Fight back, mean and ugly. Make him regret having defied you.
Better yet. Turn him into a warning for everyone else.
“That’s exactly right,” he said, raising his voice over the angry muttering and scandalized looks. “Those were my conditions to Sanguine. When he attacked me, he risked those precious designs getting lost forever because he wanted them for himself. He proved that he deserved my insult. Now, he’ll never see the Scrambling Towers, but you can,” he said, facing the crowd with such anger that the non-Dungeon Lords among them took a step back. “During the Endeavor, anyone who kills Sanguine, or any Lord allied to him, gets a Tower.”
The change was instantaneous, the way the whispering became hushed, and the crowd turned to Sanguine
as if the greed in their Evil Eyes held an edge. Sanguine realized it as well, because he and Redwood stepped back, their guard up, Redwood glancing frantically at the nearest exit.
“What have… have you… done?” Sanguine stammered at Ed through pursed lips trembling with fear and anger. “Don’t listen to this mutt! Stay out of the business between Wright and me and I’ll gift you those towers!”
Ed smiled. “To everyone? Half the people in this room don’t like each other. I’m giving them a chance to earn the towers for themselves and not have to share.”
It was a terribly slanted version of the Prisoner’s Dilemma. Anyone cooperating with Ed would win alone. If everyone cooperated with Vandran maybe then they would all win. From the way Sanguine paled and reached for something in his pocket as he advanced toward Ed, the Lord of House Vandran already knew who the winner had been.
“Lord Vandran, consider with care if attacking someone in my house is worth what would happen next,” Lady Vaines said, arms crossed, a casual air about her as the crowd parted to let her pass.
“Vaines!” Sanguine exclaimed, showing her his open palms and stepping back. “You have it all wrong. This brute has tricked the Lordship into hating me! I’ll be killed!”
“Hate is a strong word for a business transaction,” Vaines said. Something akin to scorn flashed across her face for an instant. “Have some dignity, Lord Vandran. You did this to yourself. Lord Wright has spent his entire rule as Dungeon Lord fighting everyone and everything. All he knows about a fight is how to go for the throat—he never had a chance to learn finesse. Words can kill, Lord Vandran. You chose to face Lord Wright despite him having leverage on all of us, so don’t act so surprised when he only strikes lethal blows. This battlefield was of your choosing. Isn’t that right, Lord Molmeda?”
The crowd parted once again for yet another meddler. This one was the bearded giant that had sat next to Vandran, the one with 1500 experience points. “For anyone considering Lord Wright’s offer, know that Lord Sanguine Vandran is under the protection of House Molmeda,” he said stoically. “If you have any grievances with him, we can discuss them during the Endeavor.”
Vaines snorted as if he had said something funny, but no one else saw the joke. The crowd’s whispers turned into disappointed murmurs, and then they slowly dispersed, back to their own schemes and verbal sparring. Sanguine’s lips trembled with relief. He tried to exchange a knowing look with Redwood, but she was busy towering over a servant with a tray and downing goblet after goblet of honey wine.
Tension rushed out of Ed’s limbs. He hadn’t realized his heart was racing. He discreetly flicked a bead of sweat off his temple. Having Molmeda save Sanguine’s ass wasn’t ideal, but Ed didn’t mind. At least the danger was gone. Walking away intact from a fight was just as good as winning—that was Kes’ philosophy.
It hadn’t just been a tie, either. All the other Dungeon Lords now knew not to try Sanguine’s approach.
“In the future, Lord Wright,” said Vaines, sipping what looked like warm water from a wine goblet, “when you’re a guest of mine, do not back an opponent into a corner during a verbal match. Leave them a way out so my servants don’t have to clean blood off the floors after the party.”
“Well, as long as they know that—” Ed began, but then he looked over Vaines’ shoulder and saw Argent relaxing against a pillar, looking both confused and on edge. He was ignoring Xorander’s conversation as he watched the Dungeon Lords disperse around Vaines and Ed.
The human brain has a way to chew on a problem while a person goes about his day, the problem all but forgotten by the conscious mind, and then the subconscious solves the problem and reveals the solution in what seems like a burst of inspiration.
The image appeared in Ed’s mind out of nowhere, yet it was clear as day.
Ed and Argent facing each other separated by an office desk. The Dungeon Lord reached over the desk—sending an expensive gaming laptop crashing to the floor—grabbed Argent by the collar of his shirt, and smashed his head against the edge of the desk, over and over until blood sprayed everywhere.
“Kharon, you shit!” Ed exclaimed. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” he told Lady Vaines, then walked past her toward Argent, Kharon’s Chosen.
10
Chapter Ten
Duel at Midnight
“Lord Wright, what a ferocious display,” Xorander said as Ed approached the pillar. “I was about to come to your aid, but you handled Lord Vandran quite easily on your own. Here, let me introduce you—”
“Get lost,” Ed told her, his gaze only leaving Argent for a second.
Xorander paled and tried to say something, but the danger in Ed’s tone left no room for argument. The Dungeon Lady disappeared from view.
“Can I help you?” Argent said once Ed was in front of him. Kharon’s Chosen pressed his back against the pillar, as if trying to put some distance between the Dungeon Lord and himself. There was no hint of recognition in his face, and he lacked a high-enough bluff to beat Ed’s Perception.
“You don’t know who I am?” Ed asked.
Was that really so weird? Ed hadn’t recognized him either, at first. Only a few years had passed—had Ryan changed that much?
Argent’s character sheet updated the Name entry to “Ryan, Kharon’s Chosen.”
“Well, Lady Xora… Xore… that hot chick was about to introduce us, but you stopped her,” Ryan said.
No, he hasn’t changed at all, Ed realized. Ryan had put on a bit of muscle, and his face had some make-up on it to hide several bruises, but he looked basically the same as the last time Ed had seen him. Golden blond hair, angelical face, aristocratic blue eyes. His nose was a bit crooked and bloated, as if recently healed.
It was Ed who had changed. Ryan wasn’t in a position of power like he had been in the Lasershark store. Here, he was cautious and confused, trying to grasp a complex situation he had been tossed into without much explanation.
Back when Ed had first arrived at Ivalis, he’d often felt as if he had entered a movie that had started halfway through. It had taken him years to understand a bit of what was going on in his new world, so it was no wonder Ryan seemed so out of his element.
There were small differences in the way Ed perceived his former boss as well. He looked smaller—younger somehow. Not a threat.
No, Ryan was the one who was in great danger, and he had absolutely no idea. He may be a giant asshole, but he certainly did not deserve this. Ed needed to warn him. No, Ed needed to get him out right away.
“I’m Ed Wright,” the Dungeon Lord said simply. He could almost see Ryan’s brain finish the process his own brain had followed a few minutes ago, and recognition flickered behind Ryan’s eyes like a lightbulb had suddenly been turned on.
Ryan looked frantically to each side as if fearing he was being pranked. “Eddy? What the fuck? No way—” Ryan looked him up and down, lips trembling with surprise. “No way, the police looked for you everywhere! What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve been in Ivalis the whole time,” Ed said. In a way, Ryan was the reason it had all started. Because of his constant abuse of power, Ed had reached a breaking point that had caught Kharon’s interest. “But that’s not important right now.” He grasped Ryan’s shoulder and asked urgently, “Ryan, what are you doing here?”
“I was chosen! By this… Boatman guy. Kharon. He seems like a huge deal around here,” Ryan added proudly. “He’s like… the son of this god… Whispers or whatever his name is. Very badass. Kharon told me Lotia needed my help. I’ll become a huge hero of this fantasy-country. Just like in an isekai anime!” Now that he was not pretending to be Argent, Ryan’s way of speech went back to normal. “Of course I said yes, dude! Who wouldn’t? I got amazing powers, a… stern tutor—” he gave Vaines a dubious glance “—and I’ll build my harem any time soon, chicks are falling for me left and right.” He frowned. “Is that why you’re here? Are you a hero of Lotia too?”
For a
second, Ed could only stand horrified. “Alita’s tits…” he whispered. “Ryan. This is not an anime. Kharon is not a good person—if the way he looks and acts didn’t already tell you that! You have no idea in how much danger you’re in right now,” he went on, looking behind his shoulder at the Dungeon Lords. “These men and women are…” How could he explain decades of conflict between two countries used as puppet states by two deities to a guy who thought he was the protagonist of an anime? “They are the villains. In fact, there are no good guys in Ivalis. Those chicks checking you out? They want to use you to further their own agendas. Hell, everyone here wants to use you, and the only reason they’re giving you breathing room is because they’re sizing you up, seeing what you know, your connections, and how well can you defend yourself. Once they realize how vulnerable you are—” He shook his head grimly.
“So you say Dungeon Lords are the enemies,” Ryan said, crossing his arms. “We’ve been killing them for years in Ivalis Online, though, and you apparently chose to become one anyway. Does that make you a villain too?”
“I—” Ed fought the need to slap some sense into Ryan. “It’s complicated. I made a deal with Kharon as well. But at least I knew what I was getting into!”
“So I’m an idiot, is what you’re saying,” Ryan said, his lips tight with wounded pride. “Of course perfect Eddy Wright is right about everything. Not only did you get to come to this fantasy world after assaulting me, but now you want to keep it to yourself! And look at you! You dress in all black, go around nonchalantly condemning people to death, your eyes are all weird, and you can’t even deny you’re a bad guy. Hell, Vaines and Kharon may be the good ones. Maybe I’m here to stop you.”
He’s confused and grasping at straws. He desperately wants the world to revolve around him. It’s not his fault. I mean… it is, but it’s Kharon’s doing!
“Enough, Ryan. You’re in mortal danger,” Ed said, dragging Ryan away as if he weighed nothing, putting into perspective the massive Brawn difference between them. “You’re coming with me.”
