Throne Hunters Book 1, Chapter 47

They gathered before the Adjudicator to hear his official verdict.

Yeoric stood, head hanging, hands on his hips, occasionally shaking his head as if in reluctant refutation of what had just transpired. Lucine had ceased hissing at him, and Derrick looked green in the gills. Only Gazurn remained stoic, but the one time he met Harald’s gaze, he frowned and looked away.

Harald felt tremulous, relieved, thrilled, yet still seized by disbelief. It was over. The threat that had hung over his head all these past weeks was… gone.

The judge cleared his throat. "By the terms set forth and sealed by oath, and in witness of all gathered here, Harald Darrowdelve has achieved victory by the rules of this duel. His foe, Yeoric, has been cast from the ring and forced into submission. Let it be known, henceforth, that the challenge has been met, and the debt settled.”

Sam cuffed Harald lightly on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear.

“Yeoric is bound by his word and honor to repay two Horizon’s Whispers,” continued the Adjudicator, voice strong, tone official, “and to relinquish all claim to that which was wrongfully taken. The victor stands uncontested. Let this serve as a testament to Harald's strength, and may the winds of destiny favor the worthy."

“Three cheers?” Vic suggested to Yeoric’s crew. “No? Maybe next time?”

“By the terms of the duel, Yeoric must now bow to Harald and proclaim him the superior warrior.” The Adjudicator leveled a hard stare at the defeated warrior. “Please hurry up about it so that we may all go home.”

Yeoric grimaced as he blinked several times, expression somewhere between that of a cornered dog and stunned disbelief. Finally, he turned to face Harald, though he kept his stare on the ground.

Harald raised a brow. Almost, he felt pity for the other man. Almost.

“I, Yeoric Bronzel…” The big man took a deep breath. “I, Yeoric, do hereby admit… defeat. Harald…” And now his gaze did rise, and in the depths of his brown eyes there flickered not fury, but something more sour, more dangerous. Hatred. “Harald, I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve bested me in… in this duel.”

“What was that?” called Vic, cupping a hand to his ear. “We can’t hear you.”

Yeoric’s eyes flashed and he squared his shoulders. “You’re the better… the better warrior, Harald. Somehow. I don’t know what you did, what deals you struck to acquire this power, but mark my words -”

“Now, now,” chided the Adjudicator. “You’re perilously close to violating the terms.”

Yeoric nodded jerkily. “Enjoy your victory, Harald. You’re the better warrior. There. Satisfied?”

“I will be when I get my scales.” Harald pitched his voice to carry. “But if you feel sore about this, if getting kicked out of the Circle like a squalling dog doesn’t sit right with you, well, come find me. I’m not afraid of you, Yeoric. You know that now.”

Yeoric’s face flushed, but he bit back his words. Instead, he glanced at the Adjudicator. “We done here?”

“I will remit the scales to Harald,” agreed the older man. “We are done.”

“Then let’s go,” snapped Yeoric to his crew, who trailed after him as he strode away.

“Cheater,” hissed Lucine as she passed by.

“That wasn’t right,” said Derrick, shaking his head as he followed after. “Asshole.”

Harald tongued the inside of his cheek as he watched them go. There was no point in trading insults. He’d said all he had to say already, both in the Circle and out of it.

“Our thanks!” beamed Vic to the Adjudicator’s assistant, who’d handed over the scales. The pair hurried away, umbrella held high. “So! How shall we celebrate? I have copious suggestions.”

“By getting dry first,” said Nessa. “But Harald.”

“Hmm?”

Nessa grinned. “Well done. By all the angels, well done indeed.”

“You were amazing!” gushed Sam. “I thought you were going to lose right out the gate, but then you recovered, and when you weathered his Thunderstrike -”

“Not bad,” allowed Vic. “I’m humbled to see how effective my sword lessons proved.”

Nessa turned to eye him.

“What? Didn’t I set him upon his path to glory? Didn’t I bring you on board? In many respects, I feel like this is actually my victory. Why aren’t I being cheered?”

“Right,” grinned Harald. “Congratulations, Vic. You’re the best.”

“There,” laughed Vic. “Appropriate genuflection. Feel free to chime in, you two.”

“Let’s get out of the rain,” said Harald. “How about a big dinner tonight at The Burnished Goose?”

“Like old times!” Vic clapped his hands as they all began making their way toward the main archway. “I’d thought you had grown incapable of fun. But I’m glad to see I’m wrong.”

“I’ll meet you all there,” said Sam. “I’m going to head back to my place. Eighth Bell?”

“Eighth Bell,” agreed Harald.

“Which means I can finally spend some scales on visiting the Luxosha Bathhouse,” said Nessa. “It’s been far too long since I treated myself to their full services. Unless you were planning to train today, Harald?”

“No, I think I’m good. I’ve a mind to go through my father’s old papers and draft that charter. I want to submit our writ first thing tomorrow morning.”

“But of course you do,” smiled Nessa.

“Tomorrow’s the auction,” chided Vic. “Don’t forget how delightful that’s going to prove.”

“And when this month’s Gazette comes out,” agreed Sam. “Everybody’s going to see just how high you’ve jumped since the last ranking.”

“All the more reason to get our affairs squared away,” said Harald, trying to keep his dismay hidden.

“It’ll be great!” Vic slung an arm around his shoulders. “Notoriety, attention, and all the greatest Houses of Flutic throwing themselves and offers of impossible wealth at you. Gird your loins!”

“No thanks.” They passed through the archway, and exchanged nods with the dour guards. “I’ve a mind to keep my head down, dodge all offers, and keep on doing what we’re doing.”

“It’s good to dream,” said Vic, “but not if it leads you into delusion.”

“Enjoy today,” agreed Nessa. “Tomorrow? Everything changes.”

They stopped at the edge of the street, carriages rolling by and flinging continuous sprays of dirty water from the back of their wheels.

“We did it,” said Harald, inhaling deeply. He raised his face to the dark skies and grinned, closing his eyes. “It’s over.”

“What are you talking about?” laughed Vic. “It’s just beginning. The Burnished Goose at the Eighth Bell?”

“We’ll see each other then,” agreed Nessa.

And with one last shared grin, they all went their separate ways.* * *

Most of the books in his father’s library had been carted away by Master Ling, but Harald had declared the office out of bounds, and thus his father’s ledgers and reference tomes were still available for research purposes.

He spent the next few hours reading copies of old charters, including his father’s original write-up for his first raiding crew, and from these disparate sources cobbled together his own version.

It took over an hour to transcribe and filled three sheets of fresh parchment. The preamble took the longest for him to write. It’s where the purpose of the crew was stated, its identity affirmed, and any specific goals set forth, along with shared values and principles guiding its members. After several drafts, Harald went with:

"We, the undersigned, hereby establish this charter to unite under a common banner with the purpose of mutual Ascension in power and prowess. Our quest, centered on the salvaging of scales from the depths of the dungeon, is driven by a shared conviction to push ourselves and each other to the utmost limits of our capabilities. In pursuit of this end, we pledge to uphold the principles of relentless growth, unwavering support, and an unbreakable bond that places the well-being and advancement of our fellows above our own. Together, as a crew bound by these ideals, we embark on this perilous journey, committed to rising as one, where the success of each is the triumph of all."

He reread it several times, and felt quite proud.

From there, he outlined the first article, which focused on eligibility and recruitment of members, roles and responsibilities, as well as the minimalist induction process. A simple non-magical oath would serve.

The second article dealt with official leadership and structure. Traditionally, crews were led by the most experienced member, which would make Nessa their leader. But for their crew, Harald decided to nominate Nessa as delve captain for when they were in the dungeon proper, and Sam for the crew leader for all other organizational and financial matters, pending approval of the whole crew by vote.

The third article dealt with financial arrangements. Harald stipulated the creation of a crew fund which could be used for collective expenses, equipment repair, and other needs, along with a general raid tithe of 20% to keep it replenished once it fell below a certain amount, which for now he left blank. They could hash that out together.

He spent a long while writing the salary and dividends clause, using his father’s own charter as a model for how salaries were determined based on Class level and the division of Artifacts. There would be a one-time sign-up bonus of a single Horizon’s Whisper, a monthly stipend of one Aurora Veil to all members, and another Veil paid as a “delve bonus” for every level each member possessed when they entered a dungeon. That meant that Nessa would be earning 4,000 Coppers with each dive, while he and Sam would get only 1,000 for now.

That felt right.

He appended an emergency clause in case the crew fund dipped below a certain level, where crew members were expected to sacrifice their delve bonus.

Humming, he moved on to the fourth clause, which dealt with conduct and discipline. This, he simply copied from his father’s charter, outlining both a code of conduct, the mechanism for dispute resolution, and possible repercussions for violating the articles or other misbehavior.

Harald sat back and chewed on the stylus as he considered the code. He’d want to amend it to reflect the nature of the preamble, but for now it would serve.

The fifth article dealt with operations and safety, and covered planning and execution of raids, the loaning of crew Artifacts, responsibilities while underground, and safety protocols to ensure member safety, including emergency procedures in case of serious injury or death. This again, he simply copied from his father’s charter.

The final clause dealt with processes for amendments, ensuring the charter remained a living document that reflected any changed circumstances, and sunset clauses for conditions under which the crew could be dissolved, how to do so, and how to distribute remaining assets.

When he was done, Harald shook out his hand, stretched his aching fingers, and felt a twinge of sympathy for his own father’s complaints at the end of his four-page letter.

Gathering the document, he blew on the last of the ink to dry it.

His friends had wanted to formalize matters, make everything official, and set forth terms in black and white?

Harald grinned, inordinately pleased with himself.

Well, that was just what they were going to get.

Whistling, he rose to begin preparing himself for the night’s festivities. Did any of his nicer outfits still fit? They’d be loose around the waist, too tight around the shoulders. Hmm. He’d have to manage.

He was crossing the landing when an officious-sounding knock sounded from the front door.

Harald paused.

Master Ling, returned to clarify some inventory dispute?

Curious, cautious, Harald descended and opened the door, then stepped back in alarm.

Outside stood a woman in the colors of House Celestara. Her golden half-plate was clearly crafted by a master blacksmith with the opulence of a monarch, giving her a regal air, and was worn over a bodysuit of midnight blue. Each piece was of burnished gold, inlaid with filigree, and expertly shaped to provide both defense and a silhouette that exuded power.

A cape of purest cerulean flowed from her shoulders, thick and voluminous, though its edges were torn as if from countless battles.

But it was her golden helm that held Harald’s stare: its front was subtly contoured to her face and perforated with dozens of diamond holes. Vicious spikes edged the top, sweeping back to defend her temples, with a single central horn extending almost straight up like that of unicorn. Brutal, elegant, it rendered the woman almost inhuman in appearance. Emerging from the top was a cascade of silver-white hair, long and untamed. It fell like a river of moonlight, contrasting powerfully with her sky-blue cloak, her gleaming gold armor, her dark bodysuit.

“Sir Harald Darrowdelve?” Her voice echoed from within her helm. “I have come at the behest of Lady Celestis. We must talk.”

THE END OF BOOK 1