Throne Hunters Book 3, Chapter 23

They detoured by the Platinum Rose. It was only a quick carriage ride away, and a hired cab deposited them before the broad steps only half a bell later.

There was no grand event in the offing. The building, impressive as it was, appeared demure without its rolled out carpet and ostentatious banners. No servants awaited under the portico with umbrellas, and nobody passed through the open doors.

“I guess even Master Ling has slow days,” said Harald, hopping down to the sidewalk and waiting for Kársek to do the same. “Let’s try to make this quick.”

Within, the grandeur of the auction house was still in full effect; beautiful blossoms seemed to burst from tall vases, and the marble floor gleamed as if covered with the thinnest sheen of moisture. The murmur of voices came from the side halls, and a neatly robed young man with spectacles perched atop his snub nose approached with polite decorum, hands linked behind his back.

“We’re here to speak with Master Ling,” said Harald, shifting the three troll wands to his other shoulder. “If he’s available?”

“But of course,” said the young employee. “Your name, good sir, and the nature of your visit?”

“Harald Darrowdelve. Making a deposit.”

“Ah, a deposit? I can take care of that for you without needing to interrupt Master Ling. Are you opening a deposit box, or do you already have one?”

“One should have been opened by Sir Thracos of House Thornvale?” Harald tried not to make it a question, but followed the young man back to his lectern where he watched as records were checked in a thick ledger.

“Ah, yes. I see this was just opened yesterday. Most impressive, a Gold-ranked box. Very secure, very private. And indeed, a Harald Darrowdelve is listed as a co-owner. Of course, we’ll need to confirm your identity. Do you have official papers attesting as much?”

“Not on me, no.”

“No matter. We shall find a solution. If you will come with me?”

Harald exchanged a glance with Kársek, then followed the young man into a hallway hidden behind a silk screen set against the right side of the room. They passed a number of chambers, then entered a luxurious parlor with no windows.

“If you will wait here, sir, I shall fetch your box, and ask Master Ling to confirm your identity in person.”

Harald nodded as the young man bowed, then did a slow circuit of the room, admiring the many paintings, tapestries, and statuettes placed on pedestals.

A few moments later the young man returned with two guards who carried a fairly large trunk between them.

“Master Ling will be with us shortly. Now. A Gold-ranked box is made of ironwood from Mithlorniel, and bound in living steel.” The youth fairly beamed. “It is near indestructible, and only opened by pressing your palm to the sensor plate at the front. However, your identity hasn’t been keyed to his chest yet, so we’ll wait for Master Ling and then imprint your essence upon the box. Thereafter, only you and Master Thracos will be able to open it.”

“I see.”

Kársek sat in one of the armchairs as they waited and closed his eyes, fingers interlaced over his stomach. Harald resumed his pacing until the sound of footsteps drew his attention once more.

“Sir Darrowdelve!” Master Ling’s beaming countenance radiated pleasure. “What a joy it is to have you once more beneath our roof. How have you fared since we spoke last?”

Harald and Master Ling exchanged pleasantries. Tea and biscuits were brought, and somehow Master Ling managed to make it sound as if losing Darrowdelve Manor was the masterful play of a canny operative. He fished for details as to Harald’s current residence and occupation, but gracefully backed away when Harald demurred.

“Well.” Master Ling set aside his teacup. “I can obviously vouch for your identity. We shall key the Gold-ranked chest to your essence, and then grant you privacy for your dealings.”

Master Ling’s gaze lingered on the three troll wands, but Harald chose not to understand his suggestive glance.

“Thank you. What should I do?”

The process was similar to linking an Artifact to one’s Cosmos. Harald needed only place his palm against a large, gray rectangle embossed into the chest’s front, and then wait as Master Ling pressed his signet ring against the Platinum Rose seal above it.

“There. Only you and Master Thracos are keyed to this chest, and while I retain the ability to open it, the Platinum Rose Auction House guarantees the security of your contents and your complete discretion. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“No, you’ve been too kind already,” said Harald, rising to his feet. “Thank you.”

Master Ling bowed low, and everyone exited the room. The guards closed the double doors behind them, and Harald and Kársek finally had privacy with the chest.

“Fine work,” said Kársek, examining the box. “Dwarven made.”

“Second time today that something reminds me of Gustav,” murmured Harald, and pressed his hand to the seal.

The chest glowed briefly. The lid rose silently and revealed a capacious interior, empty but for a folded piece of paper.

“What do we have here?” Harald placed the wands within and opened the missive. “Dear Harald, it fills my heart with gladness that you are reading this before your deadline has passed. I am not surprised. I wager you are reading this either the same day we spoke or the very next day after. Those with our unique endowment are not known for our patience. Thus I shall set your next task before you, and if you accomplish it before I come to fetch the troll wand, I shall be doubly impressed.”

“Cocky,” said Kársek.

“As am I. Let’s see: To win yourself a second week’s reprieve, you need but fetch…”

Harald’s eyes widened as his words trailed off.

“What is it?” demanded Kársek, unable to restrain his curiosity.

“… you need but fetch a terror bird Servitor Crystal from the 21st Level.”

Harald lowered the missive and stared wide-eyed at his friend.

“A Servitor Crystal?” Kársek tugged on his short beard tensely. “That’s… that’s a tall order.”

Harald resumed reading. “I am confident this is within your abilities, but if you feel it too much, enjoy your reprieve and we shall meet in the dungeon when your first week’s purchased time runs out. Regards, Thracos.”

Harald wanted to screw the paper up into a ball, but instead folded it and placed it in his pocket. “Damn him. A Servitor Crystal? I might need to kill ten, or twenty, or who knows how many terror birds before one shows up.”

“He made no mention of your doing so alone,” said Kársek.

Harald’s mood immediately brightened. “That’s true. We can all head directly to the 21st and go hunting together.”

“The 21st will be a serious challenge for all of us,” said Kársek grimly. “It’s a sight more dangerous that the 16th.”

“Well, it’s something to discuss.” Harald inhaled deeply and mulled over the challenge. The terror birds had overwhelmed their party when last they’d faced them during the Shuddering. Had they evolved enough since then to take the fight to their own level?

Harald shut the chest. It glowed once more as it locked.

“Let’s head back to Sonora Manor and see what the others think,” said Harald, and despite himself, despite everything, he couldn’t deny a secret thrill at the prospect of going ever deeper into the dungeon.

*

Evening.

Darkness lay upon the Sonora Manor grounds.

Within, scale lanterns glowed brightly. The servants were animated, purposeful. A new energy filled the manor. Harald even caught Rivik smiling.

Dinner.

Everyone was gathered around Countess Sonora’s table. The kitchen had prepared a four-course meal with fine ingredients purchased with Harald’s latest haul. Candle flames set the crystalware to glimmering. Harald couldn’t recall the last time he’d had such a sumptuous and formal feast. Multiple versions of each knife and fork. Different wines served with each plate.

The countess sat at the head of the table, her presence elevating the meal. She seemed more real, more present, than ever before. As if her blood had been quickened by the new results. She led the conversation, her questions probing, her manner approving, her skills as a hostess on display.

For a while Harald forgot his exhaustion from two different delves and the weight of the Forge Father’s revelations. He enjoyed the food, Vic’s raillery, Sam’s earnest counterarguments. Even Nessa couldn’t help but crack the occasional smile as she toyed with her food.

But he couldn’t shake the sense that this was play-acting. That they were performing on a stage, brilliantly illuminated, set before a sea of darkness and monsters. These manners, this decorum, were artificial.

What was real was what lay in the dark depths.

Wirmas’ hagfish smile.

The scream of troll shamans going down.

The wizened skull of the Red Fist sentry.

“Thank you, Rivik. Compliments to Vascun, the meal was delicious,” said the countess as the last plates were cleared away. “Now. To business.” Her hazel gaze locked on Harald. “I’ve been thinking hard about our evolving situation and made some decisions.”

Everyone focused on the countess.

“For one, I’m going to resist temptation and not begin spending scales in a conspicuous fashion. Harald has already furnished our household with enough wealth to begin implementing much needed changes, but that would only signal to others that something is afoot. No. I will instead shore up the critical aspects of running my household, but otherwise make no show of the change in our fortune. To do otherwise would put my enemies on alert.”

Nods all around.

“Second, I spoke at length with Nessa this afternoon, and starting tomorrow we shall offer those gathered here a new training regimen.”

Harald’s attention sharpened. “New regimen?”

The countess gestured. “Nessa?”

The Bladeweaver inclined her head. “Just so. I’ve been giving the matter a lot of thought. While you faced your duel with Yeoric, it made sense that I train you in the art of the blade, taught you how to duel a human opponent. But more and more you will be fighting monsters whose powers will require a completely different approach. That and I have hardly been… reliable, of late.”

Harald felt a pang. “You’re not leaving the crew?”

“No.” Her smile grew wry. “Somehow, being the delve captain for the Throne Hunters has come to mean much more to me than I’d have ever guessed. I’ll remain, and will train alongside you.”

Sam’s eyes were wide. “Who are we hiring that could teach you?”

“Oh, darling, you are precious. Thank you. We’ve located an instructor who will push us all to be better raiders, not just duelers or fighters. The deeper we go into the dungeon, the more our mindset itself will count in keeping us alive. That’s why I’ve secured a contract with Eadwolf the Gray.”

“The Nihtscuan?” asked Sam, and Harald vaguely remembered her suggesting the man as a possibility before Nessa came on board.

“The very same. I’ve not been completely idle. I met with him this morning, and sufficiently impressed him enough that he’s agreed to come give lessons here at the countess’ estate. Starting tomorrow.”

“A Nihtscuan?” Vic seemed less than pleased. “What, are we going to have to dress in furs and start eating raw meat?”

“Best you get that foolishness out of your system now,” said Nessa pleasantly, “so that you don’t regret insulting the man come tomorrow. He has much to teach us. Much to teach Harald. Who, no matter what he accomplishes, will have to fight Thracos sooner rather than later He’ll need every advantage he can get if he’s to win in only a few weeks’ time.”

“Speaking of, I deposited three wands today. I’m good until the end of the week. And the next, if I can secure a terror bird Servitor Crystal.”

Perhaps it was cruel to just drop Thracos’ next challenge in their laps in such a manner, but Harald couldn’t deny the cold satisfaction he derived from their shocked expressions.

“Well,” said Vic. “I hear the Mithlorniel Forest is nice this time of year.”

“That’s ridiculous,” protested Sam. “He’s demanding a Servitor Crystal? Even if you killed a hundred there’s no guarantee you’d be given one.”

“As if he could kill a hundred,” said Nessa. “Harald. I thought your conversation with the man went well?”

Countess Sonora was gazing at him, stricken.

“I can do this.” Harald took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Vorakhar is on my side, which, on the face of it, is a despicable thing to count on. But I’m convinced he furnished me with that hobgoblin amulet and Wirmas. If he has that kind of influence, I’m sure he’ll tip the odds in my favor of finding a crystal in record time.”

“Terror birds.” Vic annunciated each word carefully. “Did you overlook the ‘terror’ bit? Just… what was it, ten days? Ten days ago we were nearly destroyed by a handful of them.”

“I’ve leveled twice since then,” said Harald grimly. “I don’t intend to stop. Maybe this will help push me to the 5th Level.”

“Absurd,” said Vic, scrunching up his napkin and tossing it on the table. “It’s an insult to my world view that I have to take such statements seriously.”

“You can do this?” The countess’ tone was quiet, and in her eyes he saw a need for reassurance that washed away what levity or cruel satisfaction he’d been taking in his own predicament.

“Yeah. I think so. I’ve got until the end of next week, anyway. Perhaps some time spent training with Eadwolf will help.”

“You need your next Throne,” said Nessa, tone hard. “How much did you reap from the 16th with Wirmas?”

“He returned with almost eight Aurora Veils,” said the countess. “Which, instead of hoarding, I can now provide him to help fuel his growth.”

“But that’s only because I took half, and because we paid 40% taxes,” protested Sam. “If he absorbs the full amount in the dungeon, he could make over three Zeniths.”

“Say you do a raid with Wirmas per day,” said Nessa. “Make it 3 Zenith Tides as a result. You’ve got twelve days till the end of next week. Assuming you don’t die, you could reap 36 Zeniths by then. Would that be enough?”

“Three hundred and sixty thousand scales in a little under two weeks?” Vic shook his head. “I’m mute with wonder. My tongue is stilled, my mind rendered blank. I can’t even begin to think what I might -”

“Vic,” snapped Nessa. “You’re prattling.”

“Yes.” Harald summoned his window. “If I could get a little more each time, say a Zenith and five Aurora Veils, that would push me into my third Throne.”

“The key benefit would be your manifesting a third Goldchop,” said Nessa. “That Masterwork weapon is your true edge.”

“Not to mention his every other Ability becoming more powerful,” said Sam.

“Then it’s decided,” said Countess Sonora, tone firm. “Our goal is to push Harald into Ascending to his third Throne while he trains under Eadwolf the Gray.”

“He’ll draw even more attention,” said Sam, “if he’s emerging with a 35,000 scale increase every day.”

“More than he already has?” Nessa shrugged. “Let House Celestara grow green with envy. As long as Lord Draken remains true to House Sonora, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

Kársek spoke for the first time. “They could send Lady Yseult Khan to intercept him in the dungeon.”

“True,” allowed Nessa. “But that’s always been a possibility. And better we wager on his Ascending to his third Throne and maybe being killed by the Khan versus playing it safe and his definitely being killed by a terror bird.”

The table sank into contemplative silence.

“What about Gorkin?” asked Harald at last. “That’s two weeks where we’re not moving your cause forward.”

“Gorkin can wait,” said the countess. “And if anything, it’s best to let him stew. The longer the warehouse incident preys on his mind without adequate explanation, the better. And I’ll use that time to study his contracts further so that we can plan an appropriate second hit.”

“Anything we can monetize?” asked Vic idly. “In his papers, that is? Assuming we pretend to be unscrupulous and scale-hungry whores?”

The countess gave him an arched look. “Is that how you think of me?”

“Not you, darling. You’re the pinnacle of good fashion and refined taste. But me?” Vic put a hand to his own chest. “I may look like a paragon of virtue, and talk like a saint, but my heart’s that of a scurrilous street sweep.”

“We’ll not be mining his affairs for limited gains,” said the countess. “I’ve only begun to read through them, but for the most part they’re shipping ledgers, trade contracts, inventory logs, and tax records. He’s making enough wealth off my property to renew my hatred of the man.”

“At least we can compile a list of key contacts,” said Harald. “People his commercial empire depends on.”

“Yes. Though mixed in I’ve already found some correspondence with his business partners, Trench and Varschik. It seems his accomplices aren’t quite at peace with the terms of their alliance.”

“Anything we could exploit?” asked Vic.

“Possibly. Possibly. But I’m hoping for some truly valuable finds, such as deeds of ownership for his trading vessels, or exclusive trade licenses. I’ve also asked Rivik to comb through the ledgers and compile a list of people who owe Gorkin money. Perhaps we can find unlikely allies there.”

“All right.” Harald considered. “So while you work on that, I’ll keep harnessing Wirmas and raking the dungeon for scales. We’ll all train with Eadwolf, and with a little luck and plenty of work be ready for a Level 21 raid by the end of next week.”

“A bit dicey, putting all the pressure of finding a crystal on one raid,” said Vic. “Though! I have no alternatives. We shall simply have to continue counting on your unholy luck.”

“Nice,” said Sam. “Wonderful way to put it.”

“What?” Vic affected surprise. “We’re amongst friends. If we can’t be honest with each other here, then where?”

“One word of caution,” said Nessa. “The Fallen Angel may start resenting Harald’s mining activities. We’ll need to watch and gauge the 16th Level’s resistance to this strategy carefully. We wouldn’t want to cause another Shuddering.”

Harald stared at her. “We could do that?”

It was Sam who answered. “The first Shuddering was caused by that organized attempt to sack the dungeon, remember? But this will be just a matter of a week or so. Surely it won’t cause that kind of reaction… right?”

Nobody answered.

“But I’ll be going with you,” continued Sam. “Maybe, if your theory of my being chosen by the Angel to help you is correct, my presence will help offset any anger she might feel.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” said Harald. “That and just having you with me is always a good idea.”

“It will be a hard task,” said Kársek. “You are not temperamentally suited to witnessing slaughter, Sam.”

“I know. But perhaps we can change it a little, so that we’re involved in the fighting, and not just watching. Maybe Eadwolf can advise us on how to mix it up.”

Kársek nodded. “In that case, we should all take turns going below. I must continue to saturate in Earthblood so as to empower my Rune. It is still very weak and basic.”

“Weak and basic?” Vic stared. “You did see what you did to those orcs, didn’t you? And to Yseult Khan?”

“Weak and basic,” said Kársek again. “I am a DreadRune. I must manifest my true power, and soon.”

“Well, all right,” said Vic. “No complaints here.”

“But for now,” said the countess, rising to her feet and prompting everyone else to stand, “I shall insist that we end the day’s activities and rest. I don’t understand how you are able to keep going, Harald, but your mind needs a break even if your body doesn’t.”

“He was comatose just two days ago,” said Sam. “It’s kind of ridiculous.”

“Shadow Fortitude.” Harald shrugged. “Plus other less savory Abilities. But yes. A hot bath, a good night’s sleep. Will we have time to raid before Eadwolf arrives tomorrow?”

“No,” said Nessa. “He insisted on starting at dawn.”

“The angels help me,” moaned Vic. “What’s to happen to my depraved lifestyle?”

“Remember that fuss you made a week or two ago about trying to keep up?” Nessa’s smile was sweet. “How you didn’t want to become the butt of the group, a lowly 3rd Level Rapier Regent?”

“Nobody likes you,” snapped Vic.

“I know.” Nessa’s smile broadened. “Dawn, then?”

“Dawn,” moaned Vic. “How I loathe the word.”

“Very well.” The countess’ smile was brisk. “All are welcome to spend the night here so as to be on hand when the training commences. But I am going to retire to my quarters to read more of Gorkin’s letters. I shall bid you all a good night.”