Gloominess +3: Reign of Decay. A LitRPG series: Book 3

by Elian Tars

  Five guardsmen kept sentry at the bridge. Four more greeted our delegation at the gates.

  Chaos reigned in the courtyard. It looked like there wasn’t enough sleeping places for all of the guests, and so the marquees and long tables for their armed retinues had to be placed outside. Soldiers and armor-bearers that arrived with their counts and barons were having a feast in the yard, while their lord-knights were celebrating in the throne room.

  “Welcome back, milady,” bowed a man in a dark jerkin, who met us upon our arrival. He looked about forty-five; his balding head, somewhat sagged cheeks, and excess weight hinted at his age.

  Castellan Stevens

  Level 121

  HP: 9,870/9,870

  Hmm, I’ve never seen anyone with so much HP. Even Tsunter and Elliot had less than that. He must be the main defender of the castle, maybe the whole city, in the absence of the duke and his squad.

  Two men were standing behind the castellan, with their hands behind their backs, legs a shoulder width apart and heads lowered in a humble bow. The taller one — Zeert, level 102 — had short hair, but his friend — Zhelvan, level 104 — with three red stripes tattooed on his left cheekbone, had a rope-thick braid of dark hair that reached to his waist. The top of his head, temples, and forehead were clean-shaven and shining.

  They had no titles or nicknames, just like Lade, who had had the same wide pants as them. Monks? I wondered. I’ll assume that both of them are “Followers” of Guer-Shui.

  I remembered Lade’s Paralyzing Strike. If they were familiar with that technique, I’d have a hard time with my newly appointed bodyguards. I’d never be able to defeat them in a fair fight. Hell, I wouldn’t even be able to slow them down enough to retreat. I was glad to have Wanderer.

  I was sent to get ready for the upcoming ceremony. The two silent monks escorted me to one of the round towers — the southern one, if I wasn’t mistaken, the right one from the donjon. We went up the stairs to the second floor, into a spacious room with a double bed, a closet, and a small fireplace that was to serve as my chambers. Near the fireplace, to the left of the blackened from time and use, wooden armchair stood a wooden tub filled with warm water. The man that was waiting for us in the room, the so-called Barber Jay, screwed up his face when he saw me. He pursed his lips and ordered me to have a bath while the water was still warm.

  For a few seconds I stared doubtfully at the tub. I noticed a pair of handles on it that reminded me of door handles. I assumed that one person with upgraded strength was enough to carry it to any floor in one go.

  What should I do? Should I take off my clothes and put them on the armchair, as any normal person would do, or should I put them in my inventory? Even if I wrapped the armor in the cloak and then tied it in a bundle, the entire thing wouldn’t fit in one slot because it’d exceed the volume limit. I can’t put different items in one slot without a bag or a chest. How many slots would I need to put it all away? Would it be more than a common “Follower” of my level would have? Heh, I never thought that I’d have to take off my clothes in front of strangers. What am I to do?

  To hell with it! Tiara came for me for a reason. Glozeysk’s right, I worry too much. So what if they see that I have a lot of slots? What’s the big deal? Berg and other people close to Elliot had a big inventory. I could easily have the same artifacts they did. Fortunately, one can’t read the description of other person’s things without a permission.

  I took off my things, putting smaller items like the armbraces into the cloak, and the rest of the clothes into the inventory one by one. Leaving only rings and amulets on me, I stepped into the tub. Being cautious was good, but I’ve been paranoid for a long time now. I had no idea whether it had helped me survive or, on the contrary, slowed my development, preventing me from opening up.

  For the thousand time today, I thought about Wanderer. Had I not had the skill, I would’ve tried to run away while we were still in the shop.

  Jay got rid of my beard and gave me a haircut. Once I washed myself, I got out of the cold water and put on my armor at once. I was glad to see that nobody tried to stop me from doing so, since I feared that they’d make me wear something “fashionable” that had no stat bonuses.

  However, instead of that, the barber, to my surprise, sprayed my cloak and armor with something that smelled of pines from a beautiful phial. I received no buffs or debuffs, but I noticed that my clothes looked newer and cleaner, despite the fact that items restored and cleaned themselves. Looking in the mirror, I remembered my former life. This metamorphosis reminded me of the forgotten beauty that a pair of dusty shoes regains after it has been polished.

  Having washed, shaved, and cleaned me, the barber took his leave and left the three of us alone and in silence.

  “Will there be a wedding?” I asked Zhelvan.

  “Of course. But for now, we wait,” he replied.

  They didn’t offer me any kind of leisure activities. I sat in the armchair and, looking at the firewood that was burning in the fireplace, thought about what to do next. My bodyguards, assuming the lotus pose, placed themselves near my armchair and closed their eyes.

  Meditation? What strange guys they are! Does this restore their mana faster? Huh, even if it does, we’re in the center of the city, in a castle in which a feast is going on. Something tells me that these two never fought anyone before.

  The door opened and in came a girl in a dark dress made of coarse fabric, with a floor-long apron, which had apparently once been white. On the table she put a tray with a plate of something that smelled of meat, a mug, a piece of bread and cheese. After that, she left as silently as she had appeared.

  “Eat, so you’re not distracted by the food during the feast,” Zhelvan ordered without opening his eyes.

  Having eaten a little, I sat back in front of the fireplace. After a while, I stood up and said that I needed to go to the bathroom. I really hoped that they wouldn’t make me use a chamber pot.

  Luckily, there was a bay window with a lavatory, which wasn’t that far away. The monks led me to it.

  Once alone, and after having answered the nature’s call, I took out the Bat from my inventory and waited for it to come to life. Kane told me that if he takes too long to answer, I should pour a couple of mana points into the Bat. I didn’t have any problem with that — I imagined the blue bar and moved the cursor a tiny bit. In a second, the Bat’s little dead body started moving in my hands.

  Chapter 13

  The Celebration

  “Just be quiet,” I whispered to the Bat, bringing it closer to my face. It nodded and, slowly turning its head, looked around. When it glanced down, it understood where it was and looked up at me angrily. “Don’t make a fuss,” I said quietly, pointing at the gaps in the masonry. “You’ll get out of here through the ventilation. Please, find Berg and tell the others not enter the castle without my signal. Since I’m here, we should take advantage of it.” The Bat cocked its head to the side, like a bird. Kane wanted to know how I got here. “Berg will tell you everything. I need to go, there’s an escort waiting for me,” I said, nodding at the door of the lavatory.

  The Bat nodded in reply, flew up noiselessly, and looked out of the opening that let the fresh air in. Seeing no danger, it looked back, waved me goodbye with its wings and left.

  After leaving the bay window, I was in the tower again. The monks looked at me with appraising looks and, without saying a word, strode off in the direction of my chambers.

  When I was sitting in the tavern this morning, I took the Bat out of my inventory for the first time and contacted Kane. I introduced Berg to him and asked him to remember our location, carefully climb out the window, and fly around the neighborhood. I had no doubts that my message would reach the archer and then Shelton. I hoped that the Disciples of Rugus won’t mind that and that they won’t get in my way.

  Reclining in the armchair, I tried to figure out my emotions. There was some fear, and although I’ve let myself get dragged into al
l of this, there was a slight chance that I might’ve overlooked something. The world tends to surprise the careless, and surprises are very rarely of the pleasant sort. What if, for some reason, I don’t manage to escape even with the help of Twilight Wanderer? Sure, the skill let me walk through walls and even space, and fly… But would that be enough?

  On the other hand, I wanted to know what would come out of all this. I supposed that one could say that I was feeling excited. The duke wanted to use me through his daughter. For what though, I still didn’t know. I didn’t think he knew what I was capable of. This meant that I had a good chance to trick him, get information about the whereabouts of one of the Parts of Zurtarn, and maybe something more.

  Within me stirred a mix of anxiety and excitement. I wished that I knew what my opponent (it was too early to call him my enemy) was trying to achieve with this charade.

  “Do you know why your duchess wanted to marry the first man she met?” I asked my bodyguards, not really hoping to get an answer.

  “They couldn’t choose a groom, but they had to make a decision. They quarreled and our lady blurted out in anger that in that case she’d marry the first men she meets. You got lucky,” Zeert answered indifferently, not interrupting his “meditation.”

  “And the duke agreed? Just like that?” I didn’t even try to hide the skepticism in my voice.

  “Not at all.” Zhelvan opened his right eye a little. “He was against it. But what happened, happened.”

  So he was against it, but he still gave her an escort instead of, for example, locking his disrespectful daughter in a tower and leaving her there to think about her behavior. I was, of course, exaggerating, but the point remained. The “official” reason for our marriage was total bullshit.

  I couldn’t wait to find out the “unofficial” one…

  It was getting dark outside when the castellan entered and ordered that I be led to the throne room. Finally!

  There was no straight passage to the donjon from the other towers, so we had to descend to the courtyard first and walk a little. Once we’ve ascended the high external staircase, we got inside the main building of the castle.

  Reaching the second floor by the spiral staircase, we finally stepped into the main hall, which currently doubled as a dining hall and a throne room. The music was playing — sitting on some kind of balconies, like in nests, minstrels were plucking at the strings of their lutes. The guests, sitting at the U-shaped tables, were talking loudly. People were celebrating, talking merrily, and rattling with their cutlery as they ate. I wondered if anyone was bitter about the fact that one of the main reasons for celebrating, proposing marriage to Lady Tiara, had fallen through. Strange…

  Suddenly, the lutes stopped playing. Astonished noblemen settled down, shifting their gazes to the owner of the castle, who was sitting at the head of the table, clad in red armor with sharp patterns and an impressive ermine cape. Lifting up his hand with which he was holding a mug like a sword, he looked at me with a heavy and powerful gaze. Even from afar, I could clearly see the gray stubble on his cheeks. Short, coarse hair had also already grown on his shaven temples, but the top of his head was shining with natural baldness.

  Duke of Urhon, Caer De Bleit

  Level 157

  HP: 14,790/14,790

  When I saw his level and the amount of HP, I was left speechless. I was glad that nobody attempted to talk to me at that moment. Damn it, he’s a real beast. He could defeat one, hell, maybe even two “Warriors of Decay” on his own without using grenades or any other tricks. Daezl wasn’t lying when he said that the local ruler liked to buy points.

  Counts, barons, and other aristocrats fell silent, and the duke roared in his bass voice.

  “My friends! One more guest arrives to our feast! The one we’ve been waiting for the whole day. The one who’ll soon become my son-in-law. The one who’ll marry my beautiful daughter Tiara in a few minutes! Mister Ken!”

  “Whoooo!!” the crowd shouted, lifting mugs, clinking glasses and pouring wine into their noble throats.

  Honestly speaking, I was shocked by their reaction. Everyone, from the blundering father to the failed suitors, greeted me with joy. I expected quite the opposite reaction.

  “Come in, my future son-in-law!” the duke said when he emptied his mug. “Come on, sit down!”

  The Duchess, Avin, a beautiful, level 130 woman in a golden dress with almost 10,000 HP, was sitting proudly on the left of the duke. A fair-haired lad, and the future heir, in an armor that shone with cold blue light, was on the duke’s right. He wore a surcoat with the De Bleit family crest. His stats were impressive, just like his father’s.

  Lord Corry De Bleit

  Level 135

  HP: 12,030/12,030

  Next to him were two empty armchairs. I was offered to sit in one of them.

  When I took my place, a lackey with a tray appeared beside me at once; he put a plate of backed vegetables and roasted quail in front of me, poured some wine in my mug and quietly disappeared.

  I was in no hurry to eat, so I openly observed the people around me. I noticed that contrary to my first impression, not all of the lords were actually happy. Many of them were looking at me with bitterness. A broad-shouldered man with an impressive light-brown beard and shoulder-length hair caught my eye. He looked very much like his son, save for the wrinkles on his face.

  Sir Helderd, Lord of Nelburg

  Level 107

  HP: 6,024/6,024

  I doubted that he recognized me. We never got a chance to meet personally. When I helped rescue his heir, Sir Crane, I was called “Gloomy Bon.” I supposed that his bitterness and what could be called dissatisfaction, weren’t caused by the fact that it was me, the savior of his son, who had been chosen to be the groom, but by the reason behind the marriage. There seemed to be plenty of those who didn’t trust the duke’s and Tiara’s decision.

  It was interesting that Sir Crane himself wasn’t among the guests. The delegation from Nelburg probably didn’t come for the festivities, but to take part in the military actions against the Duchy of Oruel. Sir Helderd hardly had time to visit feasts for amusement — the Decay that dominated in the north would soon consume the territories of his barony.

  “My future son-in-law still hasn’t touched his meal!” the duke’s voice roared, drawing my attention to him again. “Well, I understand… He wants to see his bride so badly that everything else takes second place! So, let’s shorten his suffering! My friends! I present to you, my beloved daughter, Lady Tiara of Urhon!”

  Answering the approving roar of the aristocrats, the castellan opened the doors, and my bride entered the hall. She looked amazing; her silk dress was so white that it made my eyes hurt. The dress had lace ruches and wide sleeves, inside of each of which a two-year-old child could be hidden, a hood that covered Tiara’s head, and a long train, carried after the duchess by two charming girls.

  Tiara occupied the armchair beside me, and they immediately gave her a plate and filled her mug.

  “My friends! A toast! For our beautiful daughter,” the duchess said, “and for her lucky groom!” Pretending to be confused, Tiara raised her mug.

  “My future son-in-law,” Caer spoke again. “Drink, too! Are you not pleased with our hospitality?”

  I thought it very unlikely that they’d try to poison me, so I raised the mug to my lips. Surrounded by the loud and cheerful cries, I drank together with the others. I had hardly put the mug down and reached for the fork when the duke spoke again.

  “My friends! I think that the newlyweds can’t wait to get rid of us! Am I right?!”

  “Right, sir!” someone from the nearby table cried.

  “Of course, they want to finish what they’ve started!”

  “There’s no need for them to sit at the table!”

  “That’s what I think, too,” the duke continued while I tried to figure out if he was drunk or if he was simply like this. “Tiara, Mister Ken, stand up, please!”


  My bride immediately stood up, and I followed her example.

  “By the power vested in me by birthright and inheritance,” my future father-in-law said solemnly, “I, the duke of Urhon, Caer De Bleit, now pronounce my daughter, Tiara De Bleit, and her chosen one, the first man she has met, Mister Ken, husband and wife.”

  “Whoooo!!!” people cried. The monks and servants appeared behind us and lifted us. They climbed over the table and, stepping on the plates, carried us to the door. I kept turning my head in confusion. My bride, rather, my wife, was calm, and her eyelids were half-closed. Lords jumped up from their seats and followed us. Some took their mugs with them, some took jars, but they all talked cheerfully, predicting an “unforgettable night” for me. The others, like the ruler of Nelburg, walked calmly and somehow hopelessly behind their talkative friends.

  “Don’t forget! A red stain on the sheets is a sign that you’ve become husband and wife!” somebody shouted and the others supported them.

  Once again, I caught myself thinking whether I was doing the right thing or not. What did I let myself be dragged into? Hasn’t this game gone on for too long?

  Would everything turn out fine? Was my “integration” successful?

  That was rubbish; they were obviously leading me somewhere. But if I let myself be led, then everything would be okay, right?

  We were carried to the next floor and brought into one of the rooms, where the bed had already been prepared and two maids were waiting for us. The monks put us on the floor, and went out at once, closing the door shut. It quickly got quiet.

  “Come, milady,” one of the maids beckoned my bride (seriously, should I call her “my wife” now?) to go behind the folding screen.

  “Sir, let me help you,” the other maid offered to take off my cloak.

  “Thank you, I’ll do it myself,” I replied. “You’d better go help them.” I pointed at the girls, who had hid behind the screen.

  The maid didn’t argue, and she left me alone. I was starting to wonder should I do this or not. Should I leave now or continue what I had started? What would I get for leaving? Nothing. Tiara would cause panic, and it’d become much more difficult to pry the secrets out of the duke. How else I’d get the information, I had no idea.