by Alston Sleet
When Sasha knocked at the door of the room and announced that Seren’s dinner was ready I took my leave, I felt like this session cleared up a great deal of my confusion with the world. I knew that I didn’t see everything clearly. I was now more aware of the things I had been missing; Gestures, clothing, accessories, and traditions Seren had pointed out that each could have a meaning traditional or even just local. Our sessions would continue and she would work to clear up my confusion. I could almost sense a bit of relief from her that I was working on my ignorance.
###
Sasha’s left eyebrow rose as she arranged my dinner, using the action of bending over my table to try to mask her visage from the wall most likely to have a peephole. The question passed was a simple one. Was Delana right, were we potentially safe?
A gentle shift of my fork towards the plate was one of our long used code, inward for positive, outward for negative. I was starting to think that despite all my early training, despite everything that pointed toward my feelings to be naive, we could trust and even depend on my new husband. His obvious disgust at the fate of women, his almost boyish enjoyment of one of the training tale’s, everything pointed to him being as new to this world as could be and potentially malleable and sympathetic to our plight.
None of this meant we were safe, it only meant he probably didn’t directly wish us harm. A single afternoon of conversation wouldn’t convince me to risk Sasha’s safety. The fact that Shawn casually answered with the truth so often was just as much a risk as his ignorance.
Later I would make the rounds of the social scene, I had been hiding for too long and my standing had probably declined. I could probably make use of a claimed period of grieving. On our outing, I will have to pass Sasha instructions on what information to gather and what rumors to plant. I wasn’t sure if Shawn visited brothels, but if he didn’t then I would have to ensure that his virility was known in some other way, rumors of a tryst with a chambermaid perhaps.
Once Shawn’s reputation was solid, and Sasha and I are protected from rumor, I can look into figuring out Shawn’s goals and how to move us toward them. If his goals leave us unprotected or present dangers I’ll have to find a way to temper his choices.
I could feel the light dinner heave slightly in my stomach as I considered the lengths I might have to return to in order to direct him. The alternative was to find a mistress which I could control, a potential risk all on its own.
With the end of my dinner, I placed my fork down, then moved it again closer to my plate. Yes, positive. Definitely positive signs.
Chapter 17
The Changing Tides.
The ledger passed over Jofrem’s head as he ducked. The little gold plated lock clasp, designed more to keep loose pages in than for any type of security, popped open as it hit the far wall behind him. Luckily for the Kings reputation and future survivability within the court, Jofrem had magically sealed the room from prying ears and eyes before discussing his latest divination with the King.
“Again, say it again.”
The demand was given with a voice of barely repressed rage.
“The Immortal Wizard will offer once more; the cost of a Kingdom or the loss of one”, Jofrem’s voice was solemn as he informed his long time friend of the most dangerous portent his magic had ever shown. While his curse had always been enough to keep him from seeing through his own divinations, with care another might be able to tease out the tangled web of fate and see through to a solution which he could not.
This had been the basis of the friendship for the two; first a business arrangement of funds for research in exchange for divinations, but soon the two had developed a mutual respect. The King was capable, due to early training, to think in obscure directions and the cursed wizard had no desire for earthly power so could be trusted with secrets of state.
Lately, that trust was vital, the last month had seen the King’s plans slip from idyllic to nightmarish.
The trade with the Orcs of the south had been going well until an emissary from the Elves, beyond the mountains, had presented a charge of collusion in war. Apparently, the Orcs had been purchasing weapons and armor to use in a conflict with the southern Elves. Now the peace treaty which had taken years of painstaking effort to produce was null and void. The lumber rights had been promised to a southern Baron and he was now agitating the nobles, rallying behind the banner of Baron Turmin.
Baron Turmin, of course, was claiming that King Melnus was refusing to protect the ‘natural rights of the nobility’, by which he meant that the King didn’t somehow kill the Immortal Wizard when his son was beaten to death in that blasted duel. A duel that if Delsar or the wizard lets slip was approved by the King, would have the nobles baying to rip him to shreds. The wizard was only supposed to duel and murder the man. Honorably, respectfully, he was to skewer him like a dog and then all could have moved on. No, the idiot beat the man to death after insulting him repeatedly, he even went so far as to fight him naked in an even larger insult.
Now Baron Felsar was demanding the right of marriage be annulled in order to protect his daughter from a ‘slavering madman’. Doing so would release one of the traditional weapons of the King. Worse, to do so would be to give an opening to House Delsar to upend the Kingdom into a civil war with just a few words. To not do so would inflame the nobility even further than the duel had.
The only ones not yapping at the King’s heels were the Dwarves. The Dwarves were silent because they had found a gold vein at the edge of the Kingdom, just barely within the Dwarves borders, and so had decided to abandon the contract agreement for mining rights in order to concentrate their workforce on their new wealth. Again, leaving King Melnus with an angry Baron with promised but unfulfilled profits.
The loss of these contracts combined with the increased outlay at the southern border meant that the Kingdom was drawing closer to being overdrawn. The treasury wasn’t empty, but the Kings coffers would not stand long against the continued onslaught of demands without significant increases in income.
To this detestable environment comes both Jofrem’s augury…and a letter. House Delsar demanded -not requested but demanded- the right to use Baron Turmin’s ancestral dungeon training area since ‘it is unneeded at the present’. This, while reminding the King that the Immortal Wizard was due nineteen more levels from the Kingdom. Allowing the wizard to fight in Turmin’s area would draw some of the ire of the nobility, but it would raise their anger even further. Anger that could well overflow onto the King.
“Craft a letter for House Delsar, give them rights to use Turmin’s ancestral dungeon area. Cast any spells you can to collect information on how to mitigate the growing power of the wizard. Kill, cripple, contain, I don’t care. Finally, recruit someone to find a way to send a scarlet message to House Delsar; they are pushing beyond their station and they need to be reminded where they belong. Their power is in coin, they have no claim on the nobility,” while the King had returned to a semblance of calm, his words drove icy fingers down Jofrem’s back.
This would not be the first death the King had demanded Jofrem prepare through his spy network, but this had been the first when the King had been angry. Normally a cool calm flowed from the King on the most important decisions. This barely suppressed rage was unlike anything Jofrem had seen from the ruler before.
Mentally Jofrem noted to prepare his own escape from the Kingdom in the case of dire need.
With a bow, Jofrem moved his fingers slightly and flexed his will canceling the silencing spell then departed on his tasks.
###
The ogre’s head finally split from its neck, the brutes club tumbling from the lifeless fingers before the body ponderously crashed to the ground. The first battle in the new area of the dungeon, Valient Turmin’s area, was over but it was significantly more difficult than any battle in the merchant’s area.
The corresponding experience gain was also in line with the increased difficulty. The lack of item drops, except
the occasional crude wooden club, meant the profit was far less in this area. Apparently, this side of the dungeon was closer to the core and the dungeon was one of the more intelligent ones. Splitting the dungeon into a profitable and easier versus a dangerous and underfunded side meant more effort was spent on the profitable side. This had developed long before in the mists of time before the Kingdom had even been formed.
The difference between leveling on the nobles side versus the merchant’s side was greater even than the difference between daily farming on the merchant’s side and tracking then killing single monsters in the wild.
When I checked my status I found that a single ogre gave me more than fifteen times the experience that killing a single Ralk had. I knew that the royal family had a hunting area inside the dungeon, the King had been famous for his efforts hunting there during the late Kings reign. I could have been hunting in that area with assistance from Felvers and Lendser.
It was almost enough to argue a breach of contract, almost, but not enough. But it was definitely enough to let my ire over all the little manipulations overflow. The King wasn’t responsible for all the little pokes and prods to my pride, but this was something large enough I could justify punishment and use it to let my legend grow. I had been considering if I wanted to tweak the King’s nose or if I wanted to just gain coin or greater independence, but the realization of how much I had been struggling for experience and how great the difference was between the two sides decided things for me.
The King’s insult could be shown and used to justify my actions, unlike the little games of Delana. To even let others know of her acts would reduce my standing. Seren had shown me how Delana had worked hard to hide her little nudges from all in an order to teach without costing me. To repay her for that in a way that I thought she deserved would hurt me more than it would hurt her, apparently no man would have allowed those slights to occur. Especially since those little pricks to my pride were minor to my modern sensibilities compared to the deathly insults others would have seen them as. I just couldn’t begin to care enough to retaliate.
Seren’s education had shown me the insults and rudeness I had been slinging at everyone around me. Some of the issues with Delana had been of my own making. I had been insulting her husband near daily, the nobles and merchant houses on a regular basis, and her son, the first heir to House Delsar, every day in our training.
The wizard, ignorant of the world, was supposed to just know that Lendser had been her son and the heir to the merchant house. Beyond that, I was supposed to formally greet and deal with him. I had been thinking Felvers who was essentially a hired hand was the leader of the party. I wasn’t the only one ignorant of cultural conflicts apparently, but I was supposed to make sure I didn’t cause any issues. I considered pointing out the double standard but I just couldn’t be bothered.
Seren expressed horror when I explained my plan to start performing the little rituals of respect I had been missing out on and she had clued me into. The dip of the head, hand holding the front of the hair, the standing to the side as a noble comes through, etcetera. I didn’t care about these little acts of silliness. I just wanted to train, get my levels, then move on to my further plans. The game playing, the little one-upmanship, the bits of status seeking, if I had wanted to play these games I would have been a businessman instead of an engineer.
Seren’s argument was that by failing to give these signs before I had essentially been saying I was more powerful than the merchants and nobles, or at least of the same station. The beating to death of Valient in a brutal duel while naked convinced many that my claims of status were simply a fact. I was strong enough to hold my claimed position. The wealth of House Delsar, along with the social acumen of Delana and now Seren, along with my own violence had claimed the highest position of status in the dungeon if not the Kingdom, second only to the officials of the court or the King. The lack of royal censure or rebuke reinforced this.
Few were willing to risk me or my backer’s ire in order to bring me to task for my actions. If I instead started bowing and scraping -Seren’s words not mine- then I would be showing fear before the dogs and I would be dragged down accordingly.
My midday tutoring with Seren had shown more differences between our viewpoints than I had expected. When I had brushed against her hand in an accidental reach for some tea her recoil and fear had caused me to reiterate my pledge not to harm her. I pointed out that according to her own culture’s rules I wouldn’t harm her, even beyond my own morals, I wouldn’t want the loss of respect being known as an abuser of women.
My ham-fisted attempt to use her own culture’s rules to put her fear to rest exposed the fear she had for me while also failing to reassure her in the slightest. Apparently, I would lose standing for failing to “take my husband rights” with her, not that she was eager for me to do so. Her compromise was asking that if I was willing that she would set a rumor of my “use” of a barmaid or finding of a mistress for me.
It felt odd, agreeing to have my reputation inflated with the accusation that I was a womanizer. I pointed out to her that from my perspective this was more of an insult than a positive thing. Our tutoring sessions had been far more explicit and free after the revelation that I considered womanizing to be evil and wrong.
Seren has lately shown me some of the social jabs and prods she has fended off to maintain my station. It wasn’t until after I pointed out my confusion, beyond maintaining her standing through me, with why she bothered did she speak plainly enough to make it clear for me. She was level twelve and had only managed that as a child through quests of good behavior from her parents. None of her talents involved combat or brute force. She had been level twelve since she was thirteen years old and if somehow the marriage was annulled or she figured out a way to kill me, she would have to essentially hunt monsters to support herself. That, or use her nonexistent personal funds, if anyone would be willing to buy from or sell to her.
This put Seren so firmly in my corner that she was only one step away from a slave. I finally understood how drastically she needed me. This opened up our discussion and I started to trust her a bit more than I would have normally. I left the finding of transportation to Seren, we would need to visit the capital once the current leveling deal was done. The explanation of my goal; legends expounding the virtue of fair dealings and the dangers of causing me difficulties, seemed to bring Seren near to saying something. Unfortunately, when pressed she returned to her normal studied carefulness.
Her suggestion of ways to enact this goal, the slaughter of specific baronies for example or the capture of the Dwarves newfound gold mine, was far too close to brutal tyranny for my tastes. I was coming to see that my wife lacked strength, not viciousness. I was starting to get the feeling that if my goal was to murder the King and take the Kingdom her only concern would be how to maintain her own protection. Her scathing comments about Valient made me less concerned about her feelings for her late husband and glad that I hadn’t considered taking her to bed.
I had difficulties explaining to her that my goal had to be longer term than just a story of violence and oppression. It had to serve me in the future even as a wandering vagabond, a conquering hero, a ruler, or a penniless hermit in the woods. Fair dealing resulting in at least as the deal offered and tricky to those who try to renege on a deal, those who are generous I would go beyond for, those who were stingy would be pained beyond what seemed reasonable. My description of dealing with the King and how I planned to destroy the capital for failure to follow through on our deal was the example I gave.
When asked if she could use my story I told her I had no reason to keep her silent about my threat. Just the threat and the fact that the King bowed to my words would assist the growth of my legend.
Returning my focus to the dungeon I stepped back to avoid the backhand the freshly spawned ogre, a huge drooling brute, directed at me the moment he rushed forward. The battle was difficult, ogres were a wonderful source of ex
perience but horrifically strong as well as quick, if very direct in their attacks.
Glancing again at my status and the gained experience I considered what spells to develop next. Given the rate of gaining spells, I would probably only gain two more before the agreement ended. The need to focus on the spell effect was the greatest limiting factor. If I had taken improved multiprocessing instead of improved concentration I would be able to better focus on the spell as well as my actions, but I had to let that go as I considered the needs of my plan. I needed spells which would assist me in my plan as well as be useful long term.
When I thought about how I could have been out of this dungeon months ago if I had been allowed to hunt in the unused royal section I found my teeth set in a snarl as I charged the next spawn. It wasn’t fair to place so much of my frustration on the King, but he happened to be a target I could gain the most from fighting.
Yes, the next negotiation with the King would be far different than the last. I had been overwhelmed then, but my battles had tempered me. My tears at night and moral qualms had subsided. I was finding myself less and less willing to deal with the petty game playing. I wasn’t willing to perform wholesale slaughter and that’s what would happen if I lashed out, a community must always act together against outside threats, but I was less and less willing to play by the rules everyone else was using either.
Chapter 18
Engineers Do It Without a Manual.
With delicate care, I pressed my finger into the steel and forced it to bend in alignment with the other formed bars under the carriage. With my left hand, I scooped out water from the provided bucket and splashed the moving metal which was quickly heating up. The most difficult part of reforging and shaping metal with my newest spell was that of density and crystalline alignment.
It was obvious that I knew a lot more about the details of metals versus stone and so the spell was leaving the handling of more of the details of the metal to my effort compared to when I was manipulating stone. With the last bit of effort, I lined up the final piece of metal to roughly the same shape as the rest of the metal springs under the wooden frame.
