by Hugo Huesca
Alder gave him an alarmed look. “You want us to attack an Inquisitorial convoy? That’s suicide!”
“The losses will be substantial,” Kaga agreed. “But if the Dungeon Lord orders us to fight, my kaftar will honor our pact with him.”
“Me too,” said Klek. “I ain’t afraid.”
“You should be,” Tulip admonished. “But as Queen Laurel’s representative in this meeting, I can assure you the horned spiders shall uphold our pact with Lord Wraith.”
“Thanks, everyone,” Ed said. He couldn’t help but feel touched at their loyalty. “But we are not going to fight them. We will steal that damn coffin right out from under their noses.” He straightened his back and held the gaze of everyone in the room. “This stalemate has gone on long enough, people. I love turtling inside my base as much as anyone, but every Dungeon Lord that tried that before is dead. The Heroes respawn, we don’t. The Haunt cannot hide forever, and I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being on the defensive.”
He had another reason for wanting to take that coffin. Back on Earth, Ed had been part of the ranks of gamers that the Militant Church used to hunt Dungeon Lords. He had a perspective that no other Dungeon Lord had, but he’d never seen the Heroes in the flesh. After he gathered enough information about them, he knew he could put the mystery together. He could figure out how to win.
“Wetlands, Ed, you’re serious,” Lavy muttered. She smoothed a wrinkle in her tunic. “No one here is that good at stealth… perhaps if we send word to Karmich and the Thieves Guild? We can have a team waiting for the Inquisitors when they enter Undercity.”
“That won’t work,” Kes said. “Klek and Tulip left for the Haunt as soon as the Inquisitors headed for Undercity.” She pointed to the location of Jiraz’ dungeon on the map and traced the route through the forest until it reached the Haunt. “Unlike spiders and batblins, horses aren’t good at nighttime riding, so the Inquisitors are camping somewhere around here—” she traced a circle with her finger over an area of a secondary road that led to Undercity “—and will arrive at the main road early in the morning. Now, if I were in charge of the convoy, I’d have an escort team ready to meet me in the main road to reinforce my approach. Catching them after they enter the main road is out of the question. Attempting the steal in Undercity is even worse. If we’re doing this, it has to be tonight.”
“Wetlands,” Lavy said, more to herself than anyone else. “I guess we’re doing this.”
“Don’t worry,” Ed assured her. “I have a plan. We have an hour to set everything up. Kaga, gather your team and the hell chicken mounts. Alder, wake Heorghe and Andreena and have them come here. Lavy, get some rest, you’re going to raise the dead tonight. Klek, Tulip, tell the raiders it’s time for their first mission. Kes, you’re with me.”
Part of him was exultant. Despite the late hour, he was wide awake. Finally, he had the chance he had been waiting for.
His friends accepted his instructions and hurried to set them in motion. His chest beamed with pride. They were no longer a terrified bunch with no idea what they were doing. Despite all the horror of the mindbrood, and all the pain that Nicolai had caused, those experiences had taught them all something important. They could defend themselves and win. They could strike back. Hell, they could even punch first.
Ed’s eyes flashed green as he focused on the link between himself and his minions. This power was an extension of the way the Mantle worked, a neat little detail he had discovered after raising his dungeon skills high enough. He brought up an empty sheet and focused his will to add blazing green letters to it. When he was done, he sent the new sheet out through the connection created by the pact between Dungeon Lord and minion.
An announcement appeared in front of him. It was based on his handiwork, but the finer details, like the Bonuses and the Rewards, came from some unknown source. He knew that every minion was seeing the same screen. It read:
A new Dungeon Mission is active! Raid the Inquisitorial Convoy (Time sensitive).
Description: A group of Inquisitors is traveling to Undercity with a coffin containing a vampire that witnessed the Heroes in action.
Win Condition: Deliver the coffin safely into the Haunt.
Reward: Experience, Recruitment chance (Vampire Lieutenant), Plunder Wagons.
Bonus: Succeed without killing anybody.
Bonus: Keep your presence hidden from the Inquisitors.
Defeat condition: The coffin is destroyed; the convoy reaches the main road; the Haunt’s agents are killed or captured.
“So this is one of those quest things that has everyone so excited?” Andreena asked as she turned the phantasmal screen around her hand. “Interesting. I never would’ve guessed that the fastest way to get someone to do what you want is to call it a quest. Perhaps I’ll task my apprentices with Quests instead of odd jobs.”
Ed grinned. “Go ahead. I have yet to hear someone complain about a stuffed Quest List.” The Herbalist had arrived shortly after Alder and the others left the War Room. Despite the late hour, she seemed as cheerful as always—she was used to people waking her up in the middle of the night. Her curly hair was gathered in a messy bun, and she was dressed in a function-over-form brown dress and an old woolen jacket. She had locks of strange plants hanging from her belt, the way an artisan may carry a hammer, as well as a tin flask filled with her personal brew.
“I bet it won’t be the same unless it’s a Dungeon Lord’s quest,” said Heorghe, suppressing a yawn. He was dressed only in his trousers, boots, and a furred coat that looked suspiciously like a bear pelt. “Gives it legitimacy, you know.”
Governor Brett coughed. He was wearing woolen pajamas. “Am I correct in assuming I can share the rewards of this quest without actually entering combat? No offense intended, your Fiendishness, but I doubt I’d make a useful warrior,” he said as he patted his belly and gave Ed a meaningful look.
So far, Ed had only issued a few personal Quests here and there. The kaftars had “Find a way to tame hell chicken mounts” as a quest, for example. It was the first time he had issued a dungeon-sized quest, so in a way, he was treading new ground. “I think that everyone who chips in gets a share of the rewards. At least, that’s how it’s worked before.”
“Excellent.” Brett’s eyes glinted with greed. “Then, how may I be of service, Lord Edward?”
“If we succeed, we’re gonna have a vampire inside the Haunt,” Ed said. “I don’t know if he’ll want to work with us—or if we’ll want to work with him—so we need to make sure security is up to par. Get a hold of Zachary and figure out ways we can protect the place in case the vampire tries to escape—traps, spells, guard protocols, containment rooms. Anything you can think of, and don’t worry about coming up with a silly idea. We’ll figure out what is feasible and what isn’t when we return.”
“I understand,” Brett said. “This task shall be accomplished to your utmost satisfaction, my Lord, you can count on it. I’ll come up with clever new policies that not even an elder vampire could outsmart.” He saluted Ed and stood up to leave. On his way out, he reached for a tray by the table and grabbed a clay mug filled with a warm, bitter tea Andreena had brewed to invigorate them for the night.
Ed bit his lip. Brett, despite his… personality, was a fairly competent Governor, if one ignored his tendency to fatten his own pockets on the down-low. He’d come up with a good idea or two. Ed would have wanted to do it himself, but there was no time.
“There goes his Pompousness,” Heorghe said after the Governor had left. “I wonder how he’ll try to sneak himself into extra authority this time.”
“The same way he always does,” Kes said, looking up from the pile of parchments with checklists, map sketches, and theory-crafting about the Inquisitors’ talent choices. “He’ll want to create a committee and name himself president.”
“I expect more creativity from him,” Ed said. He turned to Heorghe. “So… it looks like we’ll need to test our railway out a bi
t earlier.”
Heorghe closed his eyes as if Ed had punched him in the gut. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that, Ed. I hate showing off a project before it’s ready.”
“Sorry, I know. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
“Of course. I hope you have a way of slowing down the cart, since I haven’t added the brakes yet.”
Kes looked up from her papers again. “Railway?” she asked.
“Dungeon Project: Underground Railway,” Heorghe explained. “The railway is a method of transporting goods between the Haunt and Undercity without having to rely on horses. Ed thought of it and asked our dwarf friend Oscor to help with the schematics. Seems like dwarfs have been using railways in their mines for a long time.”
A good chunk of the Haunt’s income came from smuggling booze and other items into Undercity, but the logistics of moving the product to the city was a pain. The horned spiders absolutely refused to be used as beasts of burden, horses had a hard time traversing Hoia’s hidden roads, and it took a while for Ed’s drones to push the carts around. When it was completed, a railway between Hoia and Undercity would solve that problem.
Ed also planned to exploit it as much as he could. Beginning tonight.
“How does that help us now?” Kes wondered.
“We need to get the coffin away from the Inquisition’s reach,” Ed told her. “Hauling it on our backs and hopping away won’t work, so the railway is our best shot.” It would be dangerous. For the plan to work, Ed’s group would need to raise hell to distract the Inquisitors.
A lot could go wrong, which made getting the plan right from the get-go even more important. Ed could see Kes thinking it over. Recently, before she and Ed had had time to know each other, the avian would have refused to take such a risk. That was how a mercenary survived—by choosing when to turn tail and fuck off. “Very well,” was all the Marshal said tonight, before going back to her papers.
“I’ll need to scan the prototype,” Ed told Heorghe, “to add it to my Evil Eye’s list of dungeon rooms.”
“Of course. I’ll assemble it as fast as I can,” the Blacksmith said, then he rose. “You really should figure out a way to slow down the cart, though.”
As he headed to leave, Kes handled him a long parchment. “Give this to the forge helpers, have someone read it to them. It’s a list of all the supplies we’ll need. Have them sent to the middle of the market, and we’ll handle it from there.”
“Got it, Kes.” The drones opened the door for the Blacksmith and closed it after he’d left.
Ed sipped Andreena’s tea to clear his mind. It was bitter and herbal-ish—nothing at all like coffee, which was a shame. Next on the list was… he shifted in his seat to face Andreena.
“You want potions,” the Herbalist said.
“I want potions,” Ed confirmed. “What do we have in store?”
“Vitality potions have the longest shelf-life, so there are three barrels ready. Agility potions take a while to make, but we have a barrel left-over from the spiderlings. I have a few bottles of Staunch elixir, it helps stop blood-loss.” She gave him a quick rundown of the rest. Water-breathing draughts, Cold-resistance flasks, and the rest were basic medical supplies and stimulants.
“We’ll take all the Staunches, and have your assistants fill flasks with Vitality for everyone,” Ed said. “Also, prepare some raw meat infused with Agility and… and this tea, for good measure,” he said as he held up his mug. “Hell, now that I think of it, can you mix it with our Vitality too?”
“You’re just begging to have your heart explode out of your chest at thirty, aren’t you?” Andreena said, pursing her lips. “Well, not my place to tell a grown man how he should treat his kidneys. Or liver. Or pancreas. You want a potion combo, you’ll get a potion combo. Just don’t drink more than the dose I’ll put in the flasks or, you know.” She pointed at Ed’s chest and made a bursting motion.
“I’ll sign you a waiver if you want,” Ed told the Herbalist with a nervous chuckle. He was sure she was exaggerating the heart-explosion part. Right?
“Won’t be necessary.” Andreena jumped to her feet and rubbed her hands together. “I’ll have your potions delivered at the market in half an hour, Ed.”
“Thanks, Andreena.”
After she left, the only ones remaining were he and Kes. The sand in the hourglass on a corner of the table was about half done. “Time to put on our weapons and armor,” Ed told the Marshal.
“Have the drones bring them here,” she said. She held her stack of papers in front of Ed. “Let’s go back over the plan, Ed. There won’t be any do-overs once we piss off the Inquisitors. So, start from the beginning.”
Ed glanced at the avian handwriting, some kind of cuneiform language he couldn’t understand. “Very well. The plan goes off in stages. First, I’ll need time to create a temporary dungeon…”
The market bristled with nervous energy. The night was cloudy, with the moon nowhere to be seen. Had he been superstitious, he’d have thought it a good omen. It’d be easy to hide his forces in the dark—most of them had some variant of night-vision. The Spider Riders had their echolocation, and the kaftar had an acute sense of smell. If all else failed, Ed’s drones could see in total darkness and would guide anyone who got lost.
Eyegouger and the rest of the mounts were tied to a pole at the end of the market, being watched by a nervous young kaftar. The hell chickens squeaked from their half-open beaks, and their red eyes followed Ed’s movements. A line had formed in front of Kes and Lavy, who had appropriated a couple of wooden stalls to set up shop and distribute runes, bows, and ammunition with the help of a group of batblins. The spider warriors rested by a corner while their batblin riders fumbled to strap their chairs and stirrups to the spiders’ torsos. Kaga’s Monster Hunters were giving their weapons one last look-over before the trip. Their shaggy tails wagged, and their cackles pierced the night like the war-cry of anxious predators.
Ed glanced at the sky again. The speed at which the Haunt had mobilized was nothing short of astounding. It was as if the entire population shared the nervous energy that had been nestling inside himself the last couple of months. Eager to spring to action, so when the time had arrived, it would find them ready.
“Tonight’s gonna go straight into my chronicle, you know,” Alder said as he caught sight of Ed and strolled over. The Bard had changed his colorful attire for the black leather armor of the Thieves Guild, with a sturdy brown shirt underneath and his duelist longsword hanging from a tight belt. Ed was dressed in the same way, with his green cape hugging his shoulders and swaying with the breeze.
“Is that so? You should let me have a look someday,” Ed said, only half-jokingly. Alder’s “A Most Impartial Chronicle of the Haunt and its Rise to Power” was the Bard’s self-proclaimed masterpiece. According to him, once it was finished it’d tell the entire history of the Haunt since its beginnings, from the perspective of an eye-witness: himself. As far as Alder knew, no other modern Bard had attempted such a feat, mostly because Dungeon Lords, as a rule of thumb, reacted poorly to anything short of devoted adulation. Ed, though, already suspected that Heiligian historians wouldn’t consider him worthy of praise, so he figured he may as well trust Alder to tell an impartial-ish version of their lives. Perhaps someone out there, a long time from now, would find them. Perhaps they’d even believe a word or two.
“No way,” Alder said, grinning. “Friendships get strained when one part sees what the other thinks of them.”
Ed mirrored the Bard’s smile. “I’m sure you’re overreacting. If it’s the Haunt’s honest chronicle, then I have nothing to fear.” It was a conversation they’d had a couple times already, and it had become sort of an inside joke between them.
“It’s the honest part that people have an issue with. They all say they have nothing to hide, but when the truth disagrees with them, suddenly their critique is expressed by hanging the Bard and setting him on fire unless he changes his tune. Tha
t’s why Elaitra stopped bothering with chronicling Dungeon Lords a long time ago. Being impartial is very hard with a noose around your neck and smoke tickling your toes.”
“Perhaps some Dungeon Lords had a noose around their necks too,” Ed said. “Maybe we haven’t heard of them only because it’s Heiligian Bards sharing their stories.”
Alder scratched his chin. “I’ve often wondered why Lotia has no Bards of their own. Every one I know is an Elaitra student.”
“You want me to give you a quest to investigate more?” Ed told him. “Could be interesting to find out why.”
“How about we finish this one, first? It looks like our brave troops are almost ready.”
“Right.” Ed passed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath of chilly air. He was less troubled now, his hands steadier, as if his mind had needed a bit of a distraction to fully focus on tonight’s mission. Talking with Alder had that effect on him. The Bard lived his life with his head in the clouds, and often a short visit was relaxing.
He headed for the middle of the market. Almost everyone was ready and accounted for. Most eyes fell on him, as if they expected him to say something. His throat had gone dry. “I won’t lie and say that tonight will be easy.” A couple of the batblin riders close to Klek exchanged worried glances. Great start, asshole, just tell them you’re afraid of everything, and their mothers are going to be brutally fucking murdered. He fought back the impulse to back down and let Kes handle the speech. “But we are ready for this. We’ve trained, and we’ve got the element of surprise on our side. Stick to the plan and all will be well.” Klek cheered, and a few batblins imitated him. The spiders were silent—speeches were not their thing at all. One of the Monster Hunters cracked his knuckles and patted Lavy on the back, almost sending the Witch sprawling. At least I can count on the kaftar to keep the morale high, Ed thought. As long as they knew they got to fight something, the kaftar were happy.