Archeologist Warlord: A Dungeon Core Epic

by E. M. Hardy

  “I promised you a boon for saving me and my people, Martin. Ask, and I will do my best to deliver once I reach my father.”

  “Thank you, Prince Suhaib. Then let me get straight to the point: I don’t know what I need to deal with these enemies right now. Simply put, I don’t know what I don’t know. This is why I need to unlock more pyramids like this one, and I will greatly appreciate it if you could go point me in the direction of any pyramids you can find. They don’t need to be as well-preserved as the one we have here in this hidden valley. Even ruins would be just fine; I’ll do what I can to restore them.

  “I also want to build ties between your people, the people of the Ma’an. If possible, I want to build an alliance to start preparing against these formidable foes. To facilitate this, I ask permission to start building roads that will connect my pyramid here in the mountains with your emirate. I cannot travel too far from these pyramids, considering the limitations of my constructs, but I can slowly build the necessary infrastructure that will let me reach your people.”

  “Why? Why can’t you just fly to the emirate? I can give you directions and you can head there right now.”

  The sphere seemed to consider Suhaib’s words for a moment, and he feared that he had overplayed his hand.

  “My constructs have a limited range. I lose control of them if I send them too far, so I need to build special structures called obelisks to extend my ability to control them. The roads make the passage easier, and I can set up these obelisks along the way.”

  Suhaib pretended to think Martin’s proposal over, but he was already sold. Information for roads through the sands of the Bashri, and without the emirate spending a single coin? Not a bad deal on its own, but Suhaib was not one to let an opportunity pass without being fully exploited.

  “I see no problem with that arrangement. The roads can help us pass through the desert, though you need to constantly clear out those roads. The sands of the Bashri have a tendency to swallow up anything that sits still for too long. You’ll also have another problem building those roads. We are currently facing a severe problem with bandits. They are financed by the cartels, criminal syndicates in all but name, and we are doing all that we can just to keep them out of our lands. We cannot send troops this deep into the sands of the Bashri, so your constructs will have to fend for themselves.

  “This could be an opportunity for you, though. My father, the emir, would greatly appreciate it if you could help us deal with these bandits encroaching upon our lands. If he sees that you are willing to help us in our time of need, he may be more willing to come to your aid in your time of need—especially against these invaders you mentioned.”

  The sphere seemed to deflate at that comment as it fell slightly lower in the air.

  “You do not agree?”

  “No, it’s not that. Your offer sounds good, but I… I really don’t know how to fight. I’m not even sure I can fight, at least not now.”

  That took Prince Suhaib by surprise. He had expected these people to know how to defend themselves at the very least. Now Martin was saying he ignored how to fight?

  “Wait, what about your soldiers? Guards? A militia at the very least?”

  “Erm… I am the soldier. Soldiers, I mean. No, wait. I’m not a soldier. I control all these constructs, all these relics you see, but I’m just improvising as I go along. I don’t have any experience fighting… none at all.”

  “Swords? Bows? Spears? Staves? Even just kicking or punching? Anything?”

  “Um. I have some experience with hitting someone, though I ended up eating more fists than I’d like to remember.”

  That left Prince Suhaib flabbergasted, though he managed to keep the surprise out of his face. All those grand promises, and this Martin sounded like a pampered merchant’s son or a half-baked thinker making excuses on why he shouldn’t serve in the emirate’s army.

  “Well what about these constructs of yours? Surely they have weapons of some sort?”

  The sphere went silent for a while, leaving Martin in thought. Suhaib saw a chance, a moment of vulnerability, and forged ahead to bridge that weakness he recognized.

  “If you can’t manage to deal with mere bandits, ones that don’t even have their own jinn, then how do you plan to repel these all-powerful invaders when they arrive?”

  The floating relic stilled for a moment, and the prince could swear he could hear the gears turning in the thing’s mind.

  “You’re right, Prince Suhaib: I need to start somewhere. I’ll find a way to deal with these bandits, and I might be able to do something with my constructs. I cannot promise much right now, but I’ll make do and learn as I go along.”

  “Excellent.” Though he schooled his face into a neutral frown, Prince Suhaib could not help but be pleased with himself for asking the right question at the right time. “I will go on ahead, pass on your proposal to my father. Once you have built your roads to our emirate, I will seek you out once more to give my father’s answer and to discuss with you the specifics of a potential alliance between our peoples.

  “In any case, I would be pleased if you would allow me to call you friend. You have already helped us out once, and I look forward to repaying that debt of gratitude in the future.”

  ***

  As his rested caravan began moving out, the smug prince could feel Uhi’s disapproval through his bond with the jinni. She tugged at him, pulling him aside to whisper in his ear. “Suhaib, don’t be too quick to dismiss what this Martin has to say. Both you and I felt the pain that he unleashed when he saw what he did in the pyramid. No, everyone here felt his pain. That is not something you ignore. Listen to him, consider what he says.”

  “Yes, I know Uhi. I believe him.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Okay, I don’t,” he whispered back, “but he can be useful to the emirate just the same. We need help to deal with the cartels, keep them off our backs, while opening the way for new trade routes to enrich our coffers. That is what I am concerned with the most. The relic can spout off tales of doom all he wants and I’ll reserve judgment for later. We will deal with these invaders when they arrive. In the meantime, I would rather focus on what he can do in the here and now.”

  Suhaib’s reassurances flowed through his bond with Uhi, helping her feel somewhat at ease. However, the jinni could not help but feel that her bond-mate was not giving this whole ordeal the seriousness it deserved. The essence that she felt in the sphere, the voice that called itself Martin, disturbed her in a way that nothing else ever had. She wanted to believe that Martin was more like a jinn—a soul that was bonded to humans. What she felt, however, was a soul that was not bonded to anything. He had no human to ground his experiences in this world, to make him remember what it is to feel. Any jinni that gets too attached to this world without a human heart to guide them, steeped in pain and misery without hope and joy, becomes the one thing all jinn fear becoming: shayateen.

  Chapter 08

  “Yao Xiu! You forgot the buns!”

  The aspiring historian turned around and rushed right back home, pushing the bead curtains aside and heading straight for the kitchen.

  “Thanks, ma! Wait, where’s ba?”

  Her plump mother shrugged and went back to punching bread for the meat buns. “Probably out gambling again. Give him a slap for me if you see him drinking. If I know him, he’s probably flirting with that young floozy again, whatshername or so.”

  Yao Xiu sighed, shaking her head. “No, ma. Seriously, where’s ba? The Head Historian said he needs to talk to him, something about a report.”

  Mother grunted and punched the dough even harder now. “Check the outhouse. He’s probably crapping his organs out, the way he pigged out on the leftover buns last night.”

  Yao Xiu rolled her eyes—facing away from her mother, of course—and gave her a peck on the cheek. She picked up the bundle containing her lunch of ma’s signature meat buns and made her way a
round the assistants who were busy mashing up ingredients.

  “Oh, by the way, Cai Ping came by the other day. He was looking for you.” Yao Xiu groaned internally upon hearing her mother’s words. She really didn’t like his strategy of appealing to her parents. Sure, he was nice enough and all that, and she didn’t really dislike him, but he really wasn’t her type. She was a true historian at heart, having been besotted by tales of ancient legends battling against monsters from Diyu, the realm of the dead. Daring Gao Bo and his furious fists that could crush boulders, Cunning Teng Xiuying with a mind that could see ten seconds into the future, Gentle Fan Su who could calm a raging bear with her soothing voice, Fierce Fan Jia whose tongue could send any man or woman into a fit of rage… the heroes of myth were all that Yao Xiu lived to study.

  No, poor Cai Ping had nothing on the heroes in her mind. Even following her on the Historian’s Path would not be enough to sway her, nor would working around her by wooing her ma and ba. She didn’t mind him before, but this latest act to win her approval didn’t earn him any points. After all, desperation was a very bad perfume for the aspiring suitor to wear.

  Yao Xiu’s mother clicked her tongue loudly as she noticed the frown on her face. “Get your head out of the clouds, girl. I agreed to you becoming a Historian out of respect for your father’s profession, but I refuse to see my only girl end up a spinster!”

  “Ah! Mother, would you look at the time! I really need to find ba before the Head Historian throws a fit! Bye!”

  “Peh! I’m not done with you, rude daughter! You get your bony behind back here now!”

  And just as she was about to leave, in strolled her father, clutching his stomach but smirking all the same as he went in to give his wife a hug. “Oh, my lovely lotus flower, spare your honorable daughter. If I didn’t know better, you spend more time lecturing to her than I do to the bratty sons and daughters of bureaucrats who have no interest whatsoever in history.” His wife swatted his wandering hands as she fought off a smirk. He then turned his attention to his daughter, ruffling her hair and leaving her in utter horror after the fact.

  “Ba! It took forever to fix that!”

  “Ah, sorry! I keep forgetting that you’ve begun braiding your hair now.”

  Frustrated at the mess her father created, Yao Xiu undid the braids and combed her hair with her fingers. Fortunately for her, her long hair was smooth and silky in its blackness—allowing her to easily tie it up into a ponytail.

  “Grr. I hate you.”

  “I love you too, my little rosebud. Now what was that whole thing about the Head Historian?”

  “That’s the gist of it. He wants to see you, consult you on reports he received,” Yao Xiu huffed, trying to radiate displeasure but failing quite spectacularly in the face of her father’s affection.

  “I wonder what the old coot wants with me?” Her father scratched the stubble on his chin and stared at the ceiling, which was a habit of his when he was thinking.

  “Well, whatever. The message has been relayed. Now may your honorable daughter finally be on her way so she may assemble on time for the field trip?”

  Her father laughed, her mother grunted, and she was on her way to the Academy soon enough. The sun shone bright in the sky while the scent of steaming meat buns wafted after her, turning heads as she walked briskly through the streets of Five Gorges.

  Five Gorges wasn’t a big city, nor was it a trading hub of any sort. If anything, it was an academic city on the very edge of the Ren Empire. Far from any of the major rivers but squashed between murky swampland and the Jagged Mountains, there was no real reason for a city to rise up in this location. Only two things allowed Five Gorges to prosper. One, the fact that pigs loved the local fauna and grew faster and fatter, as a result. The ‘clean’ diet of the pigs also made them significantly healthier (and tastier) than their lowland counterparts that were fed refuse. Two, that one of the rare ancient pyramids was located in the heart of the nearby swamp. The Empress had granted generous stipends for academic development across the Ren Empire, encouraging the empire’s growth in various fields. Historians suddenly found themselves in demand, having received missives to learn more about the peoples of the past and to unlock the secrets of the various ruins scattering the land.

  This was the entire reason Yao Xiu was able to pursue her love of history. She had snapped up a scholarship as soon as it was available, relieved that she had another option than her mother’s bakeshop. It was either that, or get married.

  She wasn’t entirely averse to the idea, especially when she saw how her mother and father got along so famously, but she really didn’t want to bind herself to another family right away. Her mother was fortunate that her husband was an eccentric but open-minded sort, encouraging her to start a bakery after he noticed people constantly asking for her buns. Her father was often picked on by other men, chided for his lack of masculinity for letting her walk all over him, but he didn’t care. He would wave them away, saying that his ‘lovely lotus flower’ needed plenty of water to thrive, and that would be the end of it. Most of the idiots couldn’t comprehend his metaphors and platitudes, so they just backed off in order to avoid looking unwise. Ancestors cursed the day when stupidity and ignorance would be valued over wisdom and insight.

  Yao Xiu wanted a husband like that, one who would allow her to pursue her dreams, though she had yet to find one who was as encouraging as her father. Cai Ping played the role of sweet suitor, but it was rather obvious what kind of wife he had in mind—and Yao Xiu did not want that kind of life for herself.

  Soon enough, she met up with the other students at the border of the swamp. Vine-gatherers were already there, harvesting the hanging plants for their tough fibers that made for excellent twine and rope. Pig farmers were lazily batting the behinds of their charges, driving them to the choicest patches of creepers to eat up. A few kilns already fired up, with the brickmakers busy channeling their Chi into the furnace to increase the heat while others were busy shaping up the next batch of bricks for baking. She could even spot a few hunters assuming the lotus position on the murky edges of the swamp, their traps and bows laid down on mats beside them. They were no doubt channeling the earth-water elements to help them better deal with the dangers of the swamp.

  Yao Xiu was somewhat envious, not being gifted with Chi control. She could only grasp the very basics, not being able to cultivate more than a chord’s worth of Chi. Not that it mattered to her though, since historians needed their minds, not their Chi, to peer through the veil of history.

  “And there’s Yao Xiu. Finally,” grunted Cui Dai, the lead historian of the group. She was busy inspecting her tools and equipment while the other students did the same. She was about to rip into Yao Xiu when she spotted the bundle she was carrying. “For being late, you have to share those meat buns you brought with everyone present.” Lead Historian Cui Dai kept a neutral expression on her face, but Yao Xiu could see her eyes practically glimmer with lust.

  Sighing, Yao Xiu quietly nodded and began unfolding her packaged lunch. She would never admit it so openly, but the lead historian was absolutely mad for her mother’s meat buns. She would see the slim teacher visiting her mother’s shop every day, and always found some excuse to extort buns out of Yao Xiu. This was exactly why she had brought way more meat buns than she could eat by herself. On one hand, she wanted to report the lead historian to the head historian, maybe even the headmaster of the school. On the other hand, she noticed that more students of history, their friends, and their families were buying buns from mother’s shop. She elected it was not worth causing trouble… at least not for a few meat buns.

  Good thing ma is earning something from all this, she thought to herself as she finished dividing up the buns in her pack.

  The lead historian wasted no time taking a bite from the warm bun, with everyone else following suit. “Alright, everyone listen up!” she said. “You know that we’re going to the site of the ancient pyr
amid today. We will be inspecting the feasibility of the temple for further excavation, so I want you all to be very, very careful with your measurements. Even a third of a fen—no thicker than your fingernail—will matter, especially when you factor in sinkage. We will be using your measurements to determine where the groundmasters will start clearing out the muck. Bad measurements mean they will either waste their Chi digging up nothing or they will end up breaking down something they shouldn’t. Does everyone understand the gravity of our task?”

  Everyone nodded. Lead Historian Cui Dai narrowed her eyes, before huffing and clicking her tongue. “Hou Jin, stop scratching your fat butt and pay attention!” A red-faced student immediately pocketed his hands and turned away from the class, which began chuckling as one. “If the itch is that bad, either take more time washing it or visit an herbalist already, you lazy buffoon.” Yao Xiu kept her face still. The lead historian was new to the academy, just a few weeks, in fact, but she knew her stuff. Smart, capable, and somewhat blunt. She did, however, tend to publicly shame her students for even the slightest infraction, so they were always tiptoeing around her to try and avoid her ire. The sharp-tongued woman had won few friends in the Historian’s Path, and Yao Xiu often ended up wondering why she had sought tenure if she was going to be so hostile all the time.

  With everything checked out, Lead Historian Cui Dai started instructing the class to get on the raft they had rented for the next two days. It was then that Yao Xiu noticed something strange. She saw the lead historian as well as the rest of her classmates—all six of them—but their guide was missing. “Lead historian,” she pointed out, “our guide is not here yet.”

  Cui Dai hesitated for a second, but then composed herself. “I’ve gone to the pyramid, travelled this route, more than a dozen times now. No need for a guide, not this time.” She was explaining herself. Lead Historian Cui Dai never explained herself when an insult would do.