Archeologist Warlord: A Dungeon Core Epic

by E. M. Hardy

  He was just about to nod in agreement, to bid his farewells to the brave men and women who had come with him and were willing to lay down their lives in this foreign land, when he felt a strange choking sensation wrap around his neck. He curled his fingers and tried to pull away whatever strangled him, but his fingers grasped nothing but air. His face turned red, then purple as he struggled to breathe, falling to his knees in the middle of his troops.

  It was then that a masked woman stood up from the nearby rooftops, revealing herself along with a thin, taut line of thread running from the metallic gauntlets covering her hand to Suhaib’s neck. Incredible amounts of Chi flowed through the thread, strengthening it to the point where it could fly nearly invisibly through the air and wrap around the limbs and appendages of unsuspecting targets. The mask covered her entire face, while a hood obscured the rest of the features of her head.

  “Lower your weapons, surrender to Her Majesty’s troops, and your prince will live to see another day.” The words themselves were clipped, succinct, full of authority—and were delivered in flawless Bashri.

  The purple-faced prince turned to face his attacker, trying and failing to project defiance, but he could do nothing more than choke and throw spittle. The men and women protecting him hesitated for a moment, but Munjid had none of it. He immediately threw down his weapons and raised his hands in the air, with the rest of the soldiers and armsmasters following suit.

  ***

  Refusing to show any signs of dejection or submission, Suhaib walked with his head high even as his captors led him bound and gagged back into the open-air court of the Red Throne. The masked woman led the guards who held him captive, her gauntleted hand hanging freely on one side and her free hand resting on the hilt of the dagger sheathed on her hip.

  It galled him with the way she moved him around like a dog on a leash, what with her thread still wrapped around his neck. Granted she was no longer choking the life out of him, but it still offended him immensely, not to mention that his life was literally bound to her now. His men and women fared no better; they had been disarmed, told to unsummon their jinn, and led away to another structure inside the palace compound.

  What galled him even more, however, was how he had been perfectly played by the forces within the Imperial Court. He did not want to admit it, but he had been so taken in by the charming and mysterious allure of the Renese that he did not even notice what was happening under his nose. He and his people were the perfect scapegoats: the strangers coming from a far-off land, speaking their strange tongues, and trying to assassinate the Empress as a prelude to invasion or some other drivel.

  Oh, none of that needed to be true, but it would be an excellent method of consolidating power. It was something the cartels had successfully pulled off in the past, sparking off wars between emirates that did not want to play nice with them. They had even attempted it in his father’s court, except the armsmasters had dealt with both the would-be assassins as they were infiltrating the palace. They had also prevented the turncoat servants from poisoning the coffee tea that was to be served to the dignitaries. That one incident had shed light on the activities of the cartels, stopping the ongoing wars between the neighbors of Ma’an and restoring their fraught ties. They had stopped short of forming an alliance, but the non-aggression agreements helped them focus their efforts against the cartel-backed emirates.

  This was why he cursed himself even more for his stupidity and ignorance in this situation.

  Soon enough, Suhaib was brought before an empty throne. Behind that throne stood two of the advisors, wearing the appropriate masks of outrage and sorrow over the loss of their Empress. Suhaib snorted, sure that every single emotion on display was feigned. Off to the side was a small pile of broken-up clay, and he immediately guessed that it used to be the walker that Martin had assigned to stay in the Red City.

  Suhaib looked up, hoping to spot some of Martin’s floating eyeballs in the sky. He instead saw a couple dozen Renese soldiers patrolling the skies, flying on their magical staves and driving away the eyeballs that were trying to make their way into the city. One of the staff riders even managed to score a hit on an eyeball, knocking it out of the sky with a well-timed blast of Chi.

  “You! Foreign scum! You will pay for attempting to take Her Majesty’s life! We will see justice done in the name of the Daughter of Heaven, She of Ten Thousand Years! You, Balancer, attend to his execution at once!”

  Suhaib would have laughed if he wasn’t gagged. The man was doing a poor job of pretending, relying on hysterics to speed things along. The damned coyote didn’t even give the prince a chance to defend himself and went straight to giving a command to lop off his head right away.

  “Live to see another day,” Suhaib scoffed to himself. That was the promise given by the masked woman when she had commanded his troops to stand down, and now she was going to end his life a scant hour after his capture.

  He waited for the worst, to be pushed down and for a heavy blade to cleave his head off. If he was lucky, this woman knew her work and would cut through his neck in a single stroke. If he was not, she would require several messy, painful blows to finish the job.

  Except the cut never came.

  Instead, a young woman strode into the Red Court. She wore the loose robes of an attendant, a bloody bandage over her neck. Her raven-black hair was tied in a bun and she looked as frail as a stick, but she had a fire burning in the green irises of her eyes. She carried a long dagger in one hand, her other hand clenched in a fist that was trembling with rage and anger. The scowl she wore did not match her petite face, which Suhaib thought would have looked lovely with the right smile.

  That was when Suhaib realized that he was staring at the naked face of Empress Zi Li, the Daughter of Heaven and She of a Thousand Years. She never looked so beautiful to him, even in his bound and gagged state.

  Beside her strode the familiar guardsman who had always been at the Empress’s side, sporting a few bandaged wounds of his own. She was escorted by a retinue of other guards that had their swords and spears trained on a gaggle of bound women—as well as carrying a few corpses with them. All the dead bodies were clothed in dark garments and showed horrible wounds, proof that they had fought to the bitter end. The women wearing the robes of attendants were unharmed but their faces were filled with terror at their predicament. And behind them all strode in a posse of masked men and women who wore the same outfit as Suhaib’s would-be executioner. These were the Balancers, and they bore their own unique weapons that brimmed with concentrated Chi—just like the woman behind him.

  That same woman cut loose Suhaib’s bindings, undid his gag, and helped him stand up from his kneeling position. The prince was still sore about her rough treatment, but he nodded to her in thanks just the same before turning to the scene that was unfolding within the open-air court.

  “How are you still—no, your majesty, you shouldn’t be up now! You should be recovering!!”

  The Empress didn’t even deign to answer the man. “Guards, seize advisors Feng Jiahao and Mo Louyang. No, seize former advisors Feng Jiahao and Mo Louyouang. They, along with advisor Ye Heng, have orchestrated an attack on our person, and we would like to see proper justice done in our name.”

  No sooner had the Empress uttered her first words than the armed guards grabbed the two men and brought them low to the ground. Suhaib was surprised at how quickly they were willing to turn their weapons toward the same people who just a few moments ago were taking control over everything.

  “No! Your highness, this is a grave mistake! We have been loyal, always!”

  The Empress turned to one of the Balancers, who in turn singled out one of the attendants and pushed her forward. She stumbled and dropped to her knees, bawling her eyes out. “It was all the work of the Three Sages! They held my family hostage, they threatened to kill my son, if I didn’t tell them everything that I saw in the Empress’ chambers!”

  The Balancer
behind her grunted, and tossed a small bag that clinked when it landed on the ground, pouring out its contents of gold coins as it did so. The attendant glared at the Guard for just a second before turning her attention back to the ground before her, this time saying nothing.

  “Lies! Your majesty, lies from craven fools paid off by those seeking to destabilize our great empire!”

  “You are not the only ones skulking in the shadows, advisor Feng Jiahao,” interrupted the Empress. “The Balancers have been conducting their own investigations, and we are not amused with what they found.”

  Another Balancer stepped up, this time throwing down a bloody crest on the ground. Carved on it was an image of a rat sinking its fangs and claws into a dragon’s neck.

  “We were once assured that those responsible for the deaths of our parents and siblings, the Order of Rats, had been exterminated to the last man. And yet our loyal Balancers not only find a thriving operation deep in the eastern isles that actively resent our reign over them, but that they have been exchanging letters with the Three Sages. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Feng Jiahao. Did you honestly expect such a group to stay true to their word, to burn your correspondence and throw away precious leverage they could use against you?”

  The advisors’ eyes widened, and he shook his head in complete denial. “No! No, your highness, all of this is false! Planted! Framed! We have been framed! We did all we could to stamp out these vermin, to avenge the deaths of the imperial family, and you repay our loyalty with these, these accusations!?”

  Suhaib could see the old man panicking now. He was probably used to crafting his lies and schemes from the comfort of his lofty position, where nobody would question him this aggressively—not with a spear point drawing blood from his neck.

  “Bring him to his knees. Hold him down,” the Empress commanded, striding with quiet fury as she clenched the handle of the simple dagger she held at her side. Her guard hurried beside her, put a hand on her shoulder, and mumbled something about him doing the deed for her. She glared at his hand, then shifted her furious glare at his face until he let her go. Her face softened for a split second and gave him a wan smile before she scowled once more and headed for the now-kneeling advisors.

  “We have prepared one question. The first advisor who answers it will have his family spared. The second one who answers will see his entire family up joining him in the lands of Diyu soon enough. Are we understood?”

  “Your highness! Please, I am loyal! I—”

  “Are we understood?” The Empress cut the pleading advisor off, her voice soft but filled with deadly threat. The advisor started, looked at his companion who said nothing and gave him nothing in return. Feng Jiahao turned back to the Empress, gulped, then nodded.

  “Where is Advisor Ye Heng?”

  Advisor Feng Jiahao blinked, then frowned, clearly mulling over his answer before speaking up. “He was supposed to join us today as we punish those we thought responsible for the attempt on your life. Your highness, you must believe us when we say that we have nothing to—”

  “Despite your eagerness, you have failed to answer our question, Feng Jiahao. How about you Mo Louyang? Do you possess information we can actually use, or will you continue plying us with excuses and lies?” The Empress’ frown deepened, her lips settling into a compressed line. “Do remember that your fate is sealed now. There is no way you can escape it… but your children and grandchildren can.”

  The old man’s eyes lit with fury, matching the Empress’ glare, right before he turned his gaze to the ground and refused to look back at her.

  Feng Jiahao sighed and shook his head, “I guess that’s that. We have grown complacent with time, and have underestimated the little princess. Or at least you and I have, old friend. Heng seems to have sniffed out his impending demise and beat a hasty retreat.”

  The man continued looking at the ground between his knees, forced to kneel by the guards beside him, and continued his confession. “He must have gone east, to the Tokinaka Islands in Taiyo. That is the only place I know he can run to, since he’s been financing the local warlords and supplying them with arms and funds.”

  The Empress seemed taken aback by the revelation. “Why would Ye Heng be financing these rebels? Of you three, he has been the most vocal about strengthening our presence there, sending as many troops as possible to maintain peace and order.”

  Feng Jiahao shook his head. “That’s how Ye Heng has managed to get the warlords under his thumb. With all the troops around them, they are forced to lower their heads and beg with their palms stretched out just to survive. That’s how he can keep them under his influence without actually having to—”

  “That’s not it.”

  It was Mo Louyang who spoke up. Something in Feng Jiahao’s words had disturbed the previously-silent man enough to make him speak up. Suhaib shook his head at the man’s obstinacy, especially if the Empress was serious about extending their punishment to his family. However, at Feng Jiahao’s latest statement, the man’s belligerent expression morphed into something else entirely. First puzzlement, then concern, then outright shock.

  “No, that’s not it at all. Jiahao, which of the daimyo clans was Heng helping out?”

  “Daimyo?”

  “The Taiyo warlords, and stop playing stupid. This matter involves the survival of the Empire now, and is beyond our petty ambitions. Who was Heng sending arms and funds to?”

  “Give me a second. I think it was the Hisatane, the Shigetake, and the Moto… Motomoro? No, Motomori clans.”

  “Dammit. I knew there was something off about that bastard. He didn’t really want the Empress dead—he wanted you and me dead. The assassins didn’t fail at their jobs; he intentionally set them up for failure so it’ll be our heads that roll.” The old man breathed out a frustrated sigh.

  “Ye Heng? He would never do that! We are sworn brothers. Why do you think he would ever… oh. Oh no…”

  “Yes. Our bond of sworn brotherhood does not run as deep as we thought. He still remembers his ancestry, the blood of the Shogun, and he has chosen now to reclaim his birthright.”

  Feng Jiahao lowered his head, his eyes bulging out in stupor. Suhaib got the distinct feeling that this already complex web of lies just got another layer added to it.

  “Enough of these excuses and mind games of yours. Mo Louyang, Feng Jiahao, for attempting to take our life, we hereby sentence you to—”

  Mo Louyang wore a mask of defiance on his face, cutting off the Empress before she could finish her proclamation. “Know this, Empress: Ye Heng was originally named Inagaki Nobumoto, the son of the old Taiyo Shogun—the son that was held hostage in order to force his surviving warlords to submit to our rule. Know that I and Jiahao grew up with him, teaching him the ways of the Ren and believing all the while that he was one of us—one of the Ren.”

  He looked down, some measure of defeat warping the features of his face. “And now he has betrayed our brotherhood, willing to break the Ren Empire apart just to reclaim his long-dead legacy.”

  The Empress sniffed, obviously not buying the old man’s sob story. “And we are to believe that your betrayal upon not just us, but our imperial family, carries less weight than this betrayal of your childhood friend?”

  Instead of being chastised, Mo Louyang released a bitter, malicious laugh that came deep from his belly and rang throughout the court.

  The Empress bristled at his defiant, disrespectful gesture. The guards holding the advisors down were bewildered, but her personal bodyguard quickly strode to Jiahao and slapped him squarely in the face. “You will show respect to Her Majesty.”

  The old man ignored the blood dripping from a broken lip as he fixed a glare on the Empress. “Do you know the eight great clans of the Taiyo? The seventy-six lesser clans? Do you know which ones support us, which ones pretend to support us, and which ones are openly belligerent to your rule? Do you know the significance of the Shogun’s hostage-son betr
aying the empire he swore loyalty to? How he can reunite their warlords under one banner once again?

  “Speaking of matters related to the Empire, do you know the status of the famine at the Wo Plains? How about the Hei Jian plague that’s sweeping through the Northern provinces? How will you resolve the rift between the Xing and the Chang merchant families, whose feuding has gotten so bad that they are threatening tariff wars that could paralyze trade within the empire? What will you do about Maharaja Venkata’s desire to renegotiate the terms of his vassalage? Are you even aware of what he wants, why he wants it, and what he is willing to do to get it? Do you know that if you do not treat with him fast enough, Ye Heng—no, Inagaki Nobumoto—will seize on your tardiness to stoke the flames of rebellion in the Maharaja’s heart?”

  The old man’s face contorted into a sneer as he finished off his monologue. “No, you know nothing of ruling an empire, your majesty, for all Emperors and Empresses of the Ren have passed that responsibility to the Sages. We craft all our plans with careful precision, giving our all to ensure that the Empire runs smoothly and expands appropriately. And then all our careful calculations are thrown to the winds once you and your damned ancestors get it in your clueless heads to decide on something you know nothing about. We do what we do because we pour our blood, sweat, and tears into our duty—not because we were born into the right bedrooms. You only concern yourself with primping, preening, and posturing. Your kind has been more hindrance than help in running the four corners of the Ren.”

  Suhaib started at this claim. This was the same propaganda that the cartels spread among the emirates to erode the credibility of the royals, and it alarmed him that the same ideas had spread into the core of an empire that he had just learned about a few weeks ago. It was often a complete lie, considering that many of those making these same claims came from families that were just infused with as much privilege as any royal. Still, it was a charming poison that could only be stamped out by showing the people that the royals were moving forward with the welfare of their people in mind.