by Hugo Huesca
Where are those Dungeon Lords now? Ed thought. We sure could use their help against the Inquisition… He blinked. We? No. He was not a Lotian. Perhaps an adopted Starevosi, although he still barely knew their customs and traditions. Hell, had Gallio and the Inquisition shown him just a sliver of understanding, just a tiny bit of willingness to look past his Mantle, without a doubt the Haunt would have been allied with Heiliges against the men and women in this table.
His life path was so full of twists and turns he couldn’t even fathom his current course. Once, the Shadow Tarot had pointed at three possible futures. Would they still be the same, or had his choices set him along a different road entirely?
A good part of the reason he hadn’t shared the Scrambling Towers designs with the Lotians was because, most of the time, they were unapologetic villains. Even though they had years of warfare warping their views, sacrificing the innocent to gain power had no justification.
Ed was here because of the Standard Factory. For now, he would play their little game, maybe find out if there were some decent people among them… and then the Endeavor would start, and so would the killing.
“Are you done reading character sheets?” Lady Xorander asked politely. Ed blinked and realized his Evil Eye had activated in a very obvious way. “I hope you’re satisfied with what you saw. For one, I’m glad to have those 800 points working with us and not against us,” There was an undeniable hint of flirtation in her tone.
Steros fumed. “Experience points are not all that matters,” he said dryly. “Courage and wit are more important. A brave man with little experience points can defeat another with many, provided the Dark favors him. And the Dark favors the bold.”
“In my experience,” Ed said, speaking before he could contain himself, “the Dark favors no one until the fight is over, and then it claims the victor’s win was its plan all along.” He was thinking of Kharon, but the scandalized look Xorander gave him said she and Steros had gotten a different meaning entirely.
An uncomfortable silence extended between the three.
Xorander’s companion, Maser, turned to Alder. “So, you are from Devonshire as well?” he asked, clearly trying to distract the conversation away from Ed’s lack of tact.
“Uh. Yes,” Alder said. Devonshire was the nearest village to the dungeon where Lavy had been born. “Beautiful place, isn’t it? Very pretty… trees.” His smile wavered a bit.
“Indeed,” said Maser, looking glum. “A shame what happened to it.”
Alder hurried to mirror his expression. “Yeah. Terrible, just terrible.”
Maser turned to Xorander. “My Lady, would you mind if my friend and I make the rounds after the feast? Since Lord Wright is our ally, I figure we minions can work together as well.”
“Splendid idea, Maser,” Xorander said. She whispered in Ed’s ear, “Maser is my Spymaster. He has never been to Devonshire, but is probably hoping your minion Redal can cover for his gaps in knowledge.”
“Good call,” Ed whispered back.
“So it is true,” Steros said loudly. “Lord Wright, you are from a faraway land and have no idea about the Lordship’s traditions.” He gave Xorander a knowing look that she didn’t return. “Who did you have to kill in whatever backwater place you’re from to convince Korghiran to grant you your Mantle? Or did you eat the heart of a dead Dungeon Lord you found lying around like in that old widow’s tale?” he asked obnoxiously.
Perhaps four years ago Steros’ attempts at angering him would’ve worked somewhat, but nowadays Ed was a couple Spirit points wiser, and he found he really didn’t care what the guy thought of him.
“Lord Steros!” Xorander chided him. “Where are your manners? According to my sources, Lord Wright comes from another world. He was brought here by the Boatman himself in the way the Light used to do to find their champions in the times of old. This makes Lord Wright a hero of the Dark, deserving of our respect. His Scrambling Towers are our best chance to destroy the Heiligians once and for all. He shall share them with us after the Endeavor is over—won’t you, Lord Wright?”
Alder coughed and whispered in Ed’s ear, “Someone wants to get inside your Tower, I think.” He nudged Ed’s shoulder obnoxiously. “I meant that literally, though. She wants the Towers. Just a friendly warning.”
“I know,” Ed whispered back.
“Just saying,” Alder whispered. “It’s not like you’ve got Monk-like Spirit around women. It may be hard to hear, but as your Chronicler it is my duty to call it like it is.”
“How kind of you, Master Redal,” Ed said aloud, “to let me know my shoelaces were untied.”
Alder shrugged and exchanged whispers with Maser. The two chuckled.
“Anyway,” Xorander went on as if nothing had interrupted her, “you come from another world, and you haven’t stopped fighting since your arrival. What sights you must’ve seen! Back there, you were a mighty warlord, were you not? That must’ve been why Kharon chose you.”
“I fixed computers and wrote code in my free time,” Ed said.
Xorander nodded knowingly. “Ah, a crafter of spells. I’m something of a magical researcher myself. Only as a hobby, of course. We should exchange notes. There’s this very challenging spell formula I’m working on, with a set of Colcotar arrays that refuse to integrate the way the book says they’re supposed to…” she trailed off. Ed realized that the conversation around the table had died. “If the rumors are true, the Dark is so happy with your performance that Kharon brought us another world-traveler. I only wish we had him on our side at the Endeavor, but perhaps we can still earn his loyalty. After all, you two have a world in common.”
Ed narrowed his eyes, recalling the dream where Korghiran had warned him about Kharon’s meddling in the Endeavor. “What are you talking about?”
As an answer, Xorander waved at the stairs rising next to the chimney. A servant announced:
“Honorable Lordships, please stand for your hostess, Lady Aramis Vaines, Terror of Vros, Enemy of the Light, Champion of the Great Amphitheater for the eighth time—”
“Enough,” called a woman’s voice from above the stairs. “Doom of this, killer of that. We all know my titles. Let’s get on with it.”
Vaines strolled down the stairs. She had the look of someone who had grown tired of everyone’s shit a long time ago. Her dress was a fine Lotian cut, but she looked wrong in it, and Ed suspected she felt uncomfortable in anything but armor. Her body was a map of old scars running along muscles like steel cords. There were white bumps of skin that had been sewn like patches to cover missing chunks of meat on her legs. Her eyes blazed perennial eldritch green, her face was severe, and her nose looked like it had been broken and resettled many times. Although she seemed to be somewhere in her mid-thirties, her short black hair was streaked with white, and the corners of her eyes were wrinkled.
Ed tried to read her character sheet the instant he saw her. His mouth ran dry. It was completely hidden from him, something that hadn’t happened in a long, long time. Not even the Dungeon Lord with 2000 points next to Vaines could hide all of it, but she did. Sure, she could’ve used anti-scrying magic, but something told Ed she hadn’t. Vaines was the real deal. A living legend, larger than life. Jarlen had estimated her experience points to be around four or five thousand, if not more.
Tal Zamor could’ve been the weakest of the Regents, but his lineup included the two most powerful Dungeon Lords around.
Am I supposed to go against those two? Ed thought grimly.
“She may look like an old, mean bitch,” Xorander said quietly. “But a word of advice. Do not fight Vaines under any circumstances. She is on a different level entirely. If she comes our way during the Endeavor, we avoid her. If she beats us to Tillman’s office, let her keep it. If we get in her way, we surrender. She once tore the arm off an Inquisitor and beat him to death with it before he could bleed out on his own.” Xorander looked ill. She seemed as afraid of Vaines as the Heiligians were. “Some say Va
ines is the last of her kind, the last survivor of the old generation of Dungeon Lords. She is cruel and violent and powerful. If you ask me… it may be for the best she is the only one remaining.”
Looking at Vaines’ scars, Ed had to agree with Xorander. He wouldn’t be fighting her if he could help it.
“My friends,” the Dungeon Lady said as she reached her seat. “My family. We all know why we are here. So let’s pretend to be civil for a night. We’ll be able to butcher each other to our hearts’ content in the Endeavor soon enough.” She grabbed a gauche brass goblet and took a long, impolite swig. “One more thing. I have an introduction to make. Please stand for Argent Planeshifter, Kharon’s Chosen, the newest addition to our beloved Dark family.”
A few younger Dungeon Lords rose dubiously, because the spot where Vaines had turned to was empty. They didn’t wait for long—Ed saw how reality rippled next to the table, raw magical energies coalescing in complex patterns too fast for the eye to comprehend, until a natural Portal manifested with a crackle of lightning that danced through the nearest metal cutlery. Whispers of awe filled the room. Stable portals, those that didn’t need a ley line or dungeon magic to exist, were a powerful type of divine magic with only one known user: the Boatman himself, Murmur’s envoy across all realities.
This ripple led to a room in what seemed to be the second floor of the palace. A blond man stepped through—a Heiligian, possibly—wearing a fitted black shirt and trousers, and a wide red belt. Something in Argent roused a hint of recognition in Ed. Had he seen this guy somewhere before?
He flicked through Argent’s character sheet and was mostly unimpressed:
Argent Planeshifter, human. Exp: 135. Unused: 5 Brawn: 11, Agility: 12, Spirit: 9, Endurance: 11, Mind: 10, Charm: 13. Skills: Brawling: Improved I. Swordsmanship focus: Basic I. Talents: Power Strike, Mantle of the Traveler.
“A living Portal user,” whispered Xorander in awe. “The things I could do with that power at my command…” Ed guessed that he had just joined Steros in the list of Xorander’s forgotten prospects.
The Planeshifter faced the Dungeon Lords, looking nervous and out of place. His body language screamed foreigner. “I am R—I mean—Argent P-Planeshifter. May your nights be exciting and pleasing to the Dark,” he said, mistaking a formal Lotian farewell for a greeting. Ed felt a pang of sympathy for the poor guy. Ed’s first night in Ivalis, he had had to deal with angry batblins. A table full of some of the most dangerous Ivalian beings was another thing entirely.
Still, I’m sure I recognize him from somewhere. Perhaps one of the meetings with Undercity’s nobility? But that was impossible, as Argent was a new arrival. He decided to have a chat with Kharon’s Champion as soon as possible and figure things out.
Argent’s low stats made him suspicious, though. He wasn’t in any way ready for the Endeavor. The only explanation was that Kharon was hoping Vaines would carry him to victory.
Vaines, apparently, had come to the same conclusion. “Please treat Argent the same as you would treat any of us,” she said. One of the Bone Lords laughed at that, and Ed could swear Vaines flashed a dry grin for an instant as Argent nervously sat between her and the other Ember Lord. “Now, I bet you are as hungry as I am. The pact of truce I made with each of you compels me to protect your food and drink the same way I would my own, so eat to your heart’s content.”
Ed found Lotian cuisine overwhelming after the second main dish. Everything seemed like it was as sweet as they could make it. The salad was packed full of berries, with small ceramic jars of different jams filling the empty spaces around the table. There was pear jam, strawberry jam, spicy jam, one that tasted like bubblegum, and another similar to cough syrup. The meat was barely cooked and stuffed full of something that Ed could only describe as coagulated blood jam, and it was glazed with sugar and honey.
He reached for a drink to wash away the sugary taste and discovered to his horror that it was milk laced with sugar.
Careful not to appear as bewildered as Argent at the far end of the table, Ed glanced around. Everyone ate without any complaint. They looked quite happy, even. Vaines had spared no expense. There were dishes that a king would’ve had a hard time finding in his kitchens—including a stringy, gum-like steak that, Xorander explained, was griffin.
“It’s actually terrible meat, worse than horse’s,” she explained. “But I think Vaines added it to the menu to make a political statement. She is that kind of person, after all. Anyway, if you try some add a coating of this honeygut-and-mint glaze—it really adds to the flavor.”
Lavy, during the first year of the Haunt, had taken a jar of honey with her to all meals. Ed had thought it was one of her many oddities. Alder, who had lived in a Lotian dungeon for a couple years, barely touched desserts or sweets, and if someone offered him a piece of candy, he looked sick and stumbled away. Another oddity, because to anyone that didn’t know him well, Alder would’ve seemed like the kind of person that loved candy. Now Ed realized that Alder had simply eaten a lifetime’s worth of sugar during his time with Kael and wasn’t keen on having more. At all. Ever.
Alder gave the griffin meat the stink eye and ate only a small piece of warthog flank after cleaning most of the honey custard coating off with his handkerchief.
Ed spent most of the time looking for a spicy anything to fill his stomach, but Lotia’s farms had no hot peppers or anything of the sort, so spiciness wasn’t part of their palate. It wasn’t at all like it was with the Starevosi, who often joked that if you couldn’t cast fireball after eating a dish, it could use some more heat.
Since Undercity had been under Heiligian occupation for years before being freed, Ed had eaten a few Heiligian dishes before. Those were the opposite of the food at Vaines’ feast, with barely any added spice or glazing at all. Rich Heiligians ate meat and potatoes, letting the “natural flavor” carry itself. Perhaps they added an aromatic herb or two. They used sour cream, cheese, and potato bread, to add variety. Poor Heiligians ate water and potatoes and used their imagination to provide the flavor, and sometimes they even added more water to provide variety. Taverns in Undercity had broken new ground by grabbing a Heiligian meat-and-potato combo and tossing in a side of hot pepper, which made pretty much everyone content except the odd Lotian mercenary that made their way to a table and wondered where the hell the raisin jam stuffing was.
After the third main dish, the servants brought the Dungeon Lords hot towels and glasses of warm water to clean themselves. Ed almost drank the water, but was saved by a frantic elbow from Alder before anyone else saw him.
While the servants cleaned the table and brought the desserts, a group of entertainers dressed in colorful ribbons rushed into the hall and performed a comedy routine that involved a gnome dressed as an Inquisitor being tossed into the maw of a fake man-eating plant. Music and illusions added to the effect. The gnome escaped and brought reinforcements to capture the fake Dungeon Lord. He then spent the rest of the routine humiliating his captors with tricks and mockery, ruining the Inquisitors’ attempts at executing him and roaming free around their base, causing small disasters. The performance ended when the Dungeon Lord got bored and fake-killed the other performers using a huge mallet that spewed torrents of illusory blood all over the table, which drew the loudest laughter out of the Dungeon Lords.
Dessert held no surprises other than there was no cake. There were, however, ice cream, pies, cider, frozen fruity delights, even more jam, cheese, and a chocolate fountain under a giant chocolate swan. By this point Ed could barely stand the sight of it all, so he spent the time watching the others eat.
It really did seem like a dysfunctional family. The Dungeon Lords barely talked with each other, and when they did, they often ended up shouting. Gossip and dirty looks were the most common form of communication. Where was the Dark dignity of the Mantle? All the talk of ancient traditions, of a history and culture that went back for generations… had the war and the Heroes truly ended all of that?
&
nbsp; Ed felt a pang of sadness despite his better judgment.
After the dessert was done, the harmony of the table ended like an untrained army breaking ranks during combat. Some groups headed for the sofas near the chimney, and others disappeared to the inner gardens to scheme in peace. The companions roamed everywhere and chatted amongst each other, doing the intelligence-gathering mission that was the entire point of the dinner.
Lady Xorander headed toward Vaines and Argent, who were surrounded by a small crowd of sycophants, leaving Steros and Ed alone.
“Cowards,” Steros said, trying to break the awkward silence. He nodded in the sycophants’ direction. “They’re trying to save their masters’ butts by building an alliance with the obvious favorites to win the Endeavor.”
Ed looked at the way Xorander expertly navigated the crowd to put herself in Argent’s path without making it too obvious. The Dungeon Lord had to grant it to her, that took some skill. Argent, though, was clearly both overwhelmed and pleased by all the attention at the same time, and didn’t even realize she was around.
“Why are you fighting in the Endeavor?” Ed asked Steros all of a sudden. “If Vaines and the others are so overwhelming, why risk your life at all?”
Steros scoffed. “Because I am not a coward?” He held Ed’s gaze for a moment, then squirmed and glanced to the side. “You truly are a foreigner. Well, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, since you can’t go mouthing off to others. House Steros lost all of our Dungeon Lords to the Heroes. Without a Dungeon Lord to protect our interests, the other houses have taken advantage of perceived weakness, and we’re on the brink of collapse. Steros cannot even manage enough prisoner sacrifices to convince a Regent to grant us another Mantle. Regent Korghiran gifted us a new one a year ago, though, under the condition our Dungeon Lord would have to fight in the Endeavor by the side of the Starevosi Insurgent. Do you know what the other condition was?”