All in Charisma (A LitRPG/Isekai Adventure)

As they moved through the entrance, the goblin leader awaited them on the other side. His mottled gray skin blended into the shadows, and his beady eyes watched them warily. Several more goblin soldiers in battered iron armor, wielding curved scimitars, stood close behind him.

The leader's voice was high and harsh. "I am Borgruk. Queen Grizshara awaits."

Despite the guttural words of Goblinese, Justin understood them perfectly. Kargan seemed to take it in stride, while Bohemond frowned as if the very words were defiling his ears.

Borgruk led them deeper into the palace. The interior was as decrepit as its exterior—dark stone walls marred by centuries of neglect, with dim blue crystals casting uneven light. The goblins scurried forward, casting anxious glances back, primarily at Kargan. They whispered to one another in hushed tones. Justin caught snippets of their conversation—words like "blood magic" and "chaos."

At last, they entered what must have once been the dwarven throne room. Grand stone columns flanked the chamber, though many were cracked. The large stone throne at the far end had been claimed by a goblin female who could only be Queen Grizshara herself. She was tall for her kind, with deep green skin and sharp, angular features. She wore a long robe of black silk trimmed with gold, her crown spiked and set with rough-cut emeralds. An ornate necklace of polished obsidian stones adorned her neck.

Several goblins milled about the room—advisors draped in patchwork robes, guards armed with short pikes, and a few lower-ranking figures scribbling notes on pieces of parchment. All kept a respectful distance from the queen. Apparently, these goblins—like the Snow Goblins—were far more intelligent than those that had attacked Justin in the Wildwood Forest. Either that, or Justin had unfairly maligned an entire race based on preconceived fictional stereotypes.

He pushed the thought away; they had a job to do.

Borgruk approached her first, bowing low. "Queen Grizshara. We found a Blood Mage, bearer of the Great Gift of Nyriss. Perhaps he can cure Princess Nyrissa's poison where others have failed."

Bohemond's face set into a grim line, his lips pressed together. Justin glanced at him with a subtle shake of his head, hoping to prevent him from speaking. If the Knight could keep his temper in check, they might get through this without incident.

Grizshara's gaze flicked to Kargan, her expression cold and unreadable. "Your name, orc?"

"Kargan. Kargan Durzag. This is Justin Talemaker and Bohemond Ashcroft, both mighty warriors."

"It's not strength of arms I want; it's healing magic. Can yours save my daughter?"

Kargan tightened his grip on his Staff of Blood Aegis. "I can try, Queen Grizshara, but I can't make any promises."

"What is your level?"

"Level 5, Queen Grizshara."

The Queen's eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Level 5? And you claim to wield the magic of Nyriss?"

Kargan hesitated. "Yes, but I'm still mastering it. I've healed wounds, but poisons are new to me."

Grizshara studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "New to you? You would risk my daughter's life? You would gamble with the heir to my throne?"

Kargan swallowed but met her gaze. "I won't lie, Queen Grizshara. My magic isn't perfect, but I'm willing to try. I'll do everything I can to save her, but I can make no promises."

Grizshara rose from her throne, towering over them, her eyes flashing with a mix of desperation and authority. "Before you touch my daughter, I will test you. A simple task."

To Justin's complete surprise, she drew a knife and, without hesitation, cut herself deeply in the arm. Gasps of shock erupted from her surrounding advisors and supplicants. The wound gushed blood, enough that she would bleed out in minutes if untreated.

Kargan snapped into action. Crimson magic pulsed from his hands, surrounding the Queen in a soft glow. Her flesh mended before their eyes, the torn skin sealing itself. Within moments, the injury had completely healed, leaving no trace of the wound or even blood.

Grizshara watched Kargan, her eyes narrowing as she inspected her arm. "You may have skill, orc. But healing a wound is one thing; healing my daughter is quite another."

Kargan nodded solemnly, seeming to grasp the weight of the task before him. "I understand."

"Come with me," Grizshara said. "We've run out of options."

She strode toward a side corridor, her steps echoing in the cavernous hall. Several goblin guards shifted, eyeing the group's weapons. Justin glanced at Bohemond, whose hand had already moved to his sword hilt. The Knight looked ready to strike, his nerves clearly frayed by the situation.

"Bohemond, relax," Justin said in Aranthian. "We're here to solve a mystery, not start a war."

Bohemond sniffed. "Always be on the lookout for an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what? To get us killed?"

Bohemond's jaw clenched, but he remained silent, his eyes flashing with frustration.

Queen Grizshara turned, casting a brief glance at the exchange. "They keep their weapons. They have no reason to attack."

The tension eased, and the party followed Grizshara out of the throne room, deeper into the winding stone hallways that twisted endlessly in the dark. Ether crystals lined the walls, their faint blue glow providing enough light to navigate the corridors.

At last, they reached what had to be the princess's bedchamber. The Queen opened the door.

Princess Nyrissa lay on a stone bed, her small body frail and bundled in animal furs. Her green skin was pale, like a wilting leaf, and her breathing was shallow. Justin, unfamiliar with how goblins aged, guessed she was about ten or eleven in human terms.

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By the bed stood an elderly gobliness, hunched over and focused on her work. Her gnarled hands moved deftly as she applied a salve. Her golden eyes flicked to the group as they entered. Though aware of their presence, she said nothing.

The Queen looked at Kargan. The orc approached the bedside and kneeled beside it. "When did this happen?"

"Three days ago, the symptoms started showing," Queen Grizshara replied. "We suspect the poison was administered during the Feast of Fates, six days ago. It's slow-acting." She nodded toward the caretaker. "This is Zildur, my shaman. It's only by her efforts that my Nyrissa is still…"

Grizshara's voice trailed off, and Justin's gaze shifted to the queen's expression. Her love for her daughter was unmistakable. He realized these goblins weren't mindless monsters. They were intelligent, emotional beings capable of deep familial love.

Zildur scrutinized Kargan from head to toe. Her face was set with skepticism, and her voice came out reedy. "And who are these, my Queen? Do they speak our tongue?"

"The orc, Kargan, is a Blood Mage. All three speak our tongue."

"Quite convenient, I'd say," Zildur remarked, her tone doubtful. "It would seem as if Nyriss herself has taken an interest in our predicament."

"Perhaps it means we'll have our answer soon enough," Grizshara said.

Justin wondered what Zildur meant by that. Perhaps they understood that their tribe had "become a Vault," indicating that this scenario was not isolated from the world's realities. He contemplated what mechanics were needed to create a Vault. It was a question for another day.

"This poison is a terrible thing," Zildur said. "Only advanced Blood Magic can help, and mine is not strong enough. Are you up to it, boy? You're young, and I don't want you going in and making things worse."

"I've been asked to try, and I intend to do so," Kargan replied. "But I make no promises."

"There's no antidote?" Justin asked.

Zildur's eyes snapped to him, her gaze filled with irritation. "Boy, don't you think we would have used it by now? How foolish do you think we are?"

Justin held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Forgive us. I didn't mean to imply that. We're just here to help."

Zildur sniffed. "We'll see about that."

Thankfully, Bohemond remained silent, though Justin could see the effort it took to suppress his reaction, evident in the reddening of his face.

Kargan stood next to the princess's bed, taking a moment to concentrate. Magic stirred in the surrounding air, and a crimson pulse of energy enveloped Princess Nyrissa. Kargan's skin became coated in blood, too quickly to be absorbed back into his body, despite the enchantment of his Blood Warden's Seal. He was really trying.

Bohemond turned away from the sight, disgust twisting his features. Kargan was pushing himself too hard; his breathing was labored.

"Kargan, stop!" Justin shouted. The orc was on the verge of collapse.

Fortunately, Kargan halted, though he fell to the floor, gasping for breath. After a few moments, he stirred and found enough strength to stand. The blood had already absorbed into his skin, leaving him pale but coherent.

Once he gathered his senses, Kargan shook his head in frustration. "My magic isn't strong enough. This poison... it's far beyond my abilities to heal."

Queen Grizshara's expression hardened, though the pain in her eyes was unmistakable. "Then we must find Glamshara. She is the only one who can undo this."

"My Queen," Borgruk said, his voice hesitant but firm, "Glamshara is surely the one who did this in the first place. Why else would she flee to the Underdeep before the poisoning was discovered?"

The Queen regarded him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know. But if she made the poison, she would know the antidote. It stands to reason, does it not?"

"Glamshara? Who is she?"

Zildur rose from the Princess's bedside. "Glamshara is the Queen's sister, a skilled Alchemist. She even has a class for it, unlike our own bumbling Potions Master, Zogmar."

The way she said "Potions Master" made it clear to Justin that Zildur doubted Zogmar's skills. "If she's so proficient in alchemy, then why isn't she the Potions Master?"

"A good question," Zildur replied. "It's because she specializes in poisons. She creates them for our tribe's arrows. As Borgruk mentioned, she fled around the same time the poison would have been administered, into the Underdeep. Those are the vast halls that stretch beneath the palace and Drakendir itself. That's where we believe she brewed the poison."

"How can you be so sure?" Justin pressed. "It seems too obvious, doesn't it?"

"Maybe," Zildur conceded. "But the poison is rare, one she might have assumed Zogmar wouldn't identify. He scoured the texts for anything that fit the symptoms and came upon something this morning. If you speak to him, I'm sure he'll tell you more. To my surprise, the poison's effects seem to match the Princess's symptoms, and the ingredients align with those that were recently uncovered."

"Recently uncovered?" Kargan asked.

Zildur nodded. "Two weeks ago, an earthquake opened a new area in the Underdeep. Among the exposed chambers was a dwarven alchemical lab. Glamshara, along with Zogmar, Borgruk, Grashuk, and Ralthog, went to investigate. She must have taken the ingredients while they were down there, unnoticed by my husband."

"Your husband?" Justin asked.

"Grashuk. He's the Warlord of the Blackfang Tribe."

"I see. I thought that was Borgruk."

"Borgruk leads a single war band of the tribe, the Threshers. Grashuk is the chief of them all."

Justin filed that information away. So many names, so many suspects. It was hard to know where to start.

"Maybe we can start with Zogmar?" Kargan suggested. "I have questions about the poison itself."

"The Potions Master will tell you all about it, Blood Warden. You can find him in the alchemical lab, near the throne room."

"Thank you," Kargan replied.

The Queen turned to Borgruk. "Captain, guide the Blood Warden and his companions around the tribe. Answer any questions they have and provide whatever they need to resolve this matter. They have my full permission. Ensure they receive any food or rest they require, and, of course, guarantee their safety. I shouldn't have to say this, but the would-be killer might become desperate once they see an outside force has gotten involved."

Borgruk's eyes widened at the command. "Of course, my Queen. They will be safe with me. Is there anything else?"

The Queen's voice trembled, but her resolve remained firm. "I don't want to believe my sister could do this. But I cannot deny what is in front of me. If she crafted the poison, she must answer for it. I know we have our history with the succession… but treason? It's hard to accept."

Zildur nodded. "One can never truly know the heart of another until they reveal what lies beneath the mask they wear."

"Perhaps, Zildur," Grizshara said, turning back to Kargan with eyes filled with hope. "Please, find an antidote. Ask Zogmar what's needed to create it. Maybe he has figured something out by now. That is your priority: my daughter's life. And, of course, I want to know the truth, wherever it may lead."

Kargan nodded. "We'll find Glamshara, and we'll find an antidote."

"How much time do you think she has left?" Bohemond asked.

"That's hard to say," Zildur replied. "The girl is strong, and my shamanic training has slowed the poison's progress. But without an antidote, you have two, maybe three days before the damage becomes permanent. After that… even Nyriss herself wouldn't be able to save her."

Justin felt that wasn't enough time. Hopefully, the mystery wasn't as complicated as it seemed.

Grizshara nodded, her sharp features softened by a mix of hope and desperation. "Go then, with my blessing and that of Chaos. I'm trusting you because you're outsiders—neutral in our affairs. It's become clear to me that our tribe is too entangled in suspicion and politics. Only a fresh perspective can uncover the truth."

Bohemond looked ready to object, but Justin stepped on his foot. "Of course, Your Majesty," he said, bowing. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

Borgruk gestured toward the door. "Come. I will take you to Zogmar."

Borgruk led them back to the throne room. As they walked, Justin's thoughts raced in all directions—Glamshara, the poison, the earthquake, the dwarven ruins; it all felt too tangled.

But if they were to complete this Vault, they needed to unravel it.

It was time to pay Zogmar a visit.