by Cebelius
"They don't?" Ross asked, leaning back against the stone. "Seems to me they follow your lead pretty well."
"That was an isolated case," the man said, grinning. "Most of the time it seems they spend telling me I'm an idiot."
"That's a woman's job, don't knock it," the lion man said gravely. "Hell, my women have been keeping me on the up and up for years."
"How many have you got?" Terry asked.
"Eight? Twelve if you count the ones who just stop by every so often," Ross said after a moment's thought. "Misha should be along in the next few months. Looking forward to her."
The expression on Terry's face was one of blank astonishment, and Albrecht chuckled. "They must not have lions where you come from, template."
"They do, I just ... twelve? Are you serious?"
"My pride is fairly average. My cousin Abernathy has twenty-two, or so he brags in his letters. He stayed back in Rosen though, and good gladiators get all the pussy they can fuck. Man's got a gift, may as well make use of it."
A pussy, who is definitely NOT a pussy, talks about getting pussy. Ain't THAT some shit. I REALLY wish I knew how these people actually sounded, what they're actually saying. They can't possibly be speaking actual English.
Terry pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head to clear it of unhelpful thoughts. Whatever power was translating for him and how it worked was not a priority right now.
"Albrecht, I gotta ask: how do you do it?" Terry asked. "Seems like every time I open my mouth I'm putting my foot in it with those women."
"Means you talk too much, and you may as well call me Al if you're trying to be friendly."
"Okay, likewise call me Tee or T-Mack."
Al nodded. "The secret to dealing with a pride is to be the strong, silent type, and let the women do the talking. You'll learn the difference between serious problems and general cattiness pretty quick. Unless you need to step in, don't. Play your cards right, and they'll start competing to spoil you rotten. It's a good life."
Ross watched T-Mack digest that. The template opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. The lion man grinned. "That's the spirit! Just like that. Think before you speak. Each of your women will have a fairly unique set of needs. Make sure you tend to those, but only get to their wants every once in a while. If you spoil any of them, the others will notice."
"I can't spoil them, I'm fucking broke," the man said ruefully. "That's the big problem right now actually. Well, no. I take it back. The dragon is the BIG problem. I guess that makes this the most recent problem. They're trying to get me to spend their money, and before you say it! ..."
Al closed his mouth and quirked an eyebrow. T-Mack went on. "... I know I should let them. That just ... man, it isn't the way I grew up. I am the one who supports. I feed the family. That's what I've always done. I've never known any other kind of life. This shit just seems backward to me."
"Yeah, I get why they're all calling you an idiot then," Al said, rolling his huge head on his shoulders until his neck cracked. He hadn't slept in the last two days and wearing armor for that long at a stretch was hell on the back. "You not hear me say they want to spoil you? Let 'em, and by the Powers be grateful. You don't get to decide why someone else, anyone else, values you, T-Mack. All you can do is present yourself, and be the best man you can be. Trying to force other people, especially your lovers, to value you the way you think you should be valued is one of the dumbest fucking things I've ever heard. If the only thing she needs from you is cock, well? Give it to her, and don't complain. As a matter of fact don't ever complain. No matter what. No woman ever got wet listening to a whiner."
"I guess you'd know," T-Mack said ruefully. "If you're keeping twelve women happy you must be doing something right."
"Damn straight," Al agreed amicably. "Compared to running a city garrison ... or a whole fucking city thanks-so-much-for-that-you-asshole, dealing with a few women is a cakewalk."
"Getting pretty salty there, Al," the template said, though he wore a grin. Al had no idea what salt had to do with anything, but the tone delivered the gist of the meaning.
"You really want to go out there and fight zone beasts?" he asked.
"Not really, but they're there because I'm here, and they won't go away just because someone asks nicely. These people aren't my responsibility, but they wouldn't be in this if it weren't for me. The least I can do is try and get them out of the mess I put them in."
"Good of you," Al rumbled. "Probably going to get yourself killed you know."
"Naw," T-Mack said. "I'm sure my women'll take care of me."
Al met the other man's eyes for a moment, tilting his head as he showed his teeth in a weary but feral grin. "You're all right, T-Mack. I like you, idiot though you may be. Got some brass balls."
The template chuckled, and the two men shared a companionable silence. The smiles slipped from both their faces though as they watched the city burn, and after a few minutes T-Mack muttered, "There's no way I can let this happen again. If I'd just ..."
His lips twisted and he fell silent. Al didn't press him. The man obviously had a weight on his heart, and it was easy to see that he was a good man, or at least, that he wanted to be a good man.
I must admit, I wouldn't trade places with him for anything. They'll never stop coming for him. Not as long as he lives. Dragons, magi, eldritch of every shape and size will flock to him, and more than a few will want to kill him once they have what they want. Yet he's still looking out at my city, worried about the smallfolk.
"I hope Shu is okay," T-Mack said suddenly.
"Who?"
The template gave him a lopsided grin and said, "Shu Lace. Works in a shoe shop, believe it or not. I met her and we ah, clicked. It was nice."
Al guffawed. "I'm sure she's fine. All the legends say anyone who gets a taste of your cock gets all kinds of powerful."
"Yeah, I hope so," T-Mack said, his smile lingering as he looked out into the growing dark. "I really hope so. When this is all over I'll have to go disappoint her though. She was really looking forward to watching my next fight. I promised to go tell her when it was on so she could come watch."
"Be glad she won't see it," Al said, turning as he heard the sound of several pairs of approaching feet. "If you're going out there, your next fight is liable to be brutal in ways no sane person ever wants to see. Come on. I'll lead you to the crypt entrance myself. They don't need me out here right now, and watching the fires is depressing. They'll be out by tomorrow, but we had to demolish quite a few buildings to make that happen, and no one out there was happy to see it done."
The two men turned and Al glanced over the assembled, and had to admit he was impressed. Laina Lowe now carried a long-hafted battle ax that looked like it had been forged just for her. Shy's staff arced and spat with power, and Euryale was a silent, deadly presence next to the dryad. The Madsee was carrying an ornately-tooled silver bow in her left hand and had a quiver on her hip bristling with black-fletched shafts. Then there were the adventurers that had run the Monsoon Complex. Marcus with his war mace and door-sized shield, and the tiger siblings, with sword and staff. The male — Yuri if Al recalled correctly — handed T-Mack a lumbering ax with a haft stained a deep red as he said, "Don't leave home without your weapons, boss."
"Yeah, thanks," T-Mack said, twisting the handle this way and that in his hands as he looked at the nicked and chipped but recently-sharpened blade.
"You've got yourself some impressive companions, I'll admit," Al said with a glance over at T-Mack. "Just maybe, you'll go out and break the back of this assault, and people here in Florence will start calling you a hero instead of a monster."
"Yeah," T-Mack said softly. "They can call me whatever the fuck they want. I'll settle for just cleaning up the mess I've made."
Albrecht Ross clapped the template on the back and said, "Well, if that's all you want, come on. I'll take you to the place where you can start."
15
Order of
March
Terry twisted the haft of the ax absently in his hands as the group made its way through the halls of the keep. He paid little attention to where they were going, as his mind was on his own accountability for what was going on outside. The utterly insane thought crossed his mind that perhaps this was what it was like to be President. Anywhere he went there was chaos, and everyone's lives were disrupted until days after he was gone.
Except no one dies when the President travels.
He began to wonder about what it would take to walk peacefully in and out of a town, and inevitably his mind returned to the conclusion that the only way was to avoid being recognized for what he was. In order not to destroy people's lives, he had to hide.
'It is within your power ... all you have to do is expand our contract.'
Do me a favor, Prada?
'Yes, Master?"
The eagerness in her tone left a sour taste in his mouth as he thought, Don't offer me help unless I ask. Just do the job you ALREADY have a contract for. This may sound odd, but I really, REALLY don't trust you.
'I have sought to be nothing but helpful.'
Yeah, I know, self-interest is best interest. But right now you have pride of place on my list of 'likely mistakes I just haven't paid for yet.' You're trying too hard to impress me, and it's making me nervous.
There was a deepness in his mind that came across as thoughtfulness, and at length Prada said, 'Though I have access to your memories, I now readily concede that you may be beyond my understanding, Master. When a gorgon shows up and turns your companions to stone in a rage, you console, then fuck her. I show up and offer you power like nothing you've ever known, and get the cold shoulder. I will ponder this.'
Do that. You seem like a smart girl. I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually.
Prada left him alone after that, and his attention broadened out to his companions. Albrecht Ross was talking in low tones with Yuri up front, with Marcus flanking Yuri and Mila flanking Al. All three of them were listening intently to the lion man, but he was speaking in tones too low to be overheard.
Wait, no he isn't, they're just fifteen feet ahead of us.
A gap had opened, and he realized he was the cause, because his women stayed with him, and he'd been slowing down, distracted by his mental conversation. Terry focused his attention on Ross, wanting to hear what he said. When nothing happened, he blinked. He bent his will toward focusing his hearing on Albrecht Ross, but after several long seconds, there was no change.
He stopped, looked around at his companions, and sniffed.
Nothing. Well, not NOTHING, but ... my sense of smell is back to normal.
"Huh."
"What is it, Tee?" Shy asked. She stood on his left, and was looking at him with a curious expression.
"I've lost the gifts I got from Shu," he said, brow furrowing as he glanced around.
Laina and Shy exchanged a long look, then Shy said, "Perhaps if you do not renew your bond, its effects fade after time?"
Terry blinked, then nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. Kind of a relief actually. Everything always assaulting my nose gave me headaches."
He jogged to catch up to the others, and his women followed him. When he was back with them, he said to Yuri, "Hey, just a heads up, I've lost my sense of smell and hearing. I won't be able to warn us like I did in Monsoon."
Yuri scowled, then nodded and said, "Thanks for letting me know. I'll adjust accordingly."
"What about your familiar's tremor-sense?" Mila asked.
"Yeah, maybe later. I'm not about to expand my contract with Prada now."
"So you gave it a name," Mila said, nodding. "Good. Consider strengthening your bond with it. A mage's familiar is often the difference between life or death in a fight. Tremor-sense is how slimes can detect people and things in their vicinity, and it is very precise. As you know, your senses are already available to Prada as a default consequence standard in familiar contracts, but because you didn't ensure a mutual exchange when you made your deal you'll have to re-negotiate if you want access to its tremor-sense ... unless it decides to make a gift of it, and extra-planar beings aren't known for their generosity. When you do re-negotiate, make sure you don't forget the details."
I guess the devil really is in the details.
Expected snark from his familiar was not forthcoming, nor was an immediate offer for mutual sensory exchange, so Terry just shrugged and said, "Pro-tip. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
He opened his mouth and almost asked another question related to his familiar, but then thought better of it. Prada had seamlessly manipulated him from the instant they'd made a contract, and now was not the time to try and get the upper hand. He had other more pressing matters to deal with.
Not long after, Ross stopped in a small, circular room with only two exits. The hall they'd come down, and a stone door protected by a portcullis. There was also an alcove, but as Terry glanced inside the only thing he saw was a metal wheel, vaguely resembling the steering wheel on an old sailing ship, set in the wall.
I guess that's to raise the gate.
"Here's where I leave you," Al was saying as Terry returned his attention to the group. "Remember: head down the stairs and go straight. Do not turn to the left, or to the right. Once you get to the dead-end, look for clear crystal embedded in the ceiling above your heads. Heat it with a torch for a few minutes, and the exit into Sub-Cel proper will open. From there, follow the map I gave you to the nearest marked exit. It'll put you in the mountains about six miles outside the city. I've speculated as much as I can about what you may encounter once you leave the crypt, but until then you should be safe as long as you don't make any turns. When you finish your work, return overland. I'll be closing this gate behind you. Got it?"
Yuri nodded. "We got it. Thanks for the help, Commander."
Albrecht Ross turned and came to stand in front of Terry, who had to tilt his head up a bit to look the lion man in the eye. The leonine face was inscrutable, and the golden eyes regarded him calmly, but he extended a gauntleted hand as he said, "I can't say it was good to have met you, because having you here has completely wrecked pretty much everything. But I respect your desire to do what you can, and I wish you luck."
Terry took the offered hand and shook it as he said, "Thanks, Al."
A sudden thought occurred to Terry and as he let go he asked, "I'm kinda surprised I haven't seen Astur lately. Just where did you send her?"
The lion man blinked at him slowly, then shrugged as he said, "Vaktosh lived near the docks in a commune of his kind, and they're skittish people. I could only give her a vague idea of where to go looking. And of course those people were among the first to flee when she showed up, something about lizardfolk being favored dragon slaves. It may take her a while to track them down ... if she ever does."
Terry looked up into those inscrutable eyes for a long moment as a smile gradually plastered itself all over his face. At length he said, "Al? You're fucking awesome."
Albrecht thumped him on the chest as he stepped past and said, "Don't you forget it. I'll send someone to close the gate; right now I have other business. Be seeing you."
The sound of his boots was loud on the stone as he left, and Terry moved over to the alcove and began spinning the wheel. His guess had been correct, and the squealing of metal accompanied the raising of the portcullis. There was a hook set in the stone, and when the wheel stopped, he latched it into place and moved back into the room to see the rest of the group gathered around Yuri, who had a map open in his hands.
"All right everyone," he said, "Sub-Cel is not like a normal dungeon, and thankfully we will not be there long. Bring it in, Boss. Everyone needs to see this in case we get separated."
Terry asked, "Is Sub-Cel short for Subterranean Celestine?"
Yuri blinked, and Mila smiled, showing a few teeth as her tail flickered. She said, "Right in one. Celestine is a vast world, and it has many layers. There is the surface, and the
first layer below that is Subterranean Celestine. Below that is the Everdark, and ... well, if there is anything past that no one has come back to tell us about it."
"Most dungeons have entrances to Sub-Cel, and some of the worst dungeons have an entrance to the Everdark, but dungeons are mostly self-contained," Yuri cut in with a nod to his sister. "Once you are in Sub-Cel, all bets are off and anything goes."
Terry smirked and folded his arms across his chest as he said, "You said the same thing about just walking around outside the city."
"Yes, well, walking around outside the city does not involve the risk of running into a gelatin the size of Florence Keep, smartass," Yuri shot back with a grin. "Everything about Sub-Cel is high risk, high reward for mortal surfacers like us, and as I said, we will not be staying there long this time. It is only about ten miles from the crypt entrance to the exit we are aiming for."
Laina actually raised her hand, and waited.
Yuri glanced at her, looked her up and down, then asked, "Yes?"
"I thought Commander Ross said the entrance would drop us six miles outside town. How is it ten to get there?"
The tiger man grinned. "We cannot just go straight there. There just are not that many straight-line paths underground, and if you find one you will probably wind up paying the dwarves to use it. All of the information I could gather suggests that the dwarves do not have an outpost out here, and any roads they used to maintain in this area are collapsed and abandoned."
"Oh." Laina put her hand down and Terry could see red creeping up into the shells of her ears.
He said, "Beat me to it, Laina. I was curious about that too."
She glanced gratefully at him and said, "Thanks, Boss."
Don't even know why she was embarrassed. Always better to ask questions than want answers.
He returned his attention to Yuri, then looked down at the map, which from his perspective was upside down. What he saw made him blink, then furrow his brow as he tilted his head.
