All in Charisma (A LitRPG/Isekai Adventure)

As they walked toward Zogmar's workshop, Justin decided to ask their guide some questions.

"Borgruk," Justin began, "you said Glamshara left before the poison was discovered. Was that during this Feast of Fates?"

Borgruk didn't turn but replied, "That's right. She left six days ago, before the feast was even finished. That was days before Princess Nyrissa showed any signs of being poisoned."

"And no one has gone after her?" Bohemond asked, incredulous. "Unbelievable."

"You heard it up there," Borgruk said. "This poison works slowly. No one even knew it was poison until Zogmar tested her blood this morning. Besides, no one is eager to venture into the Underdeep."

"Why not?" Justin inquired.

"It's not just Glamshara. The constructs that guard those ruins… you'd be lucky to come back in one piece. It's the perfect place to flee if you're trying to cover your tracks."

Kargan's brow furrowed. "Is she strong enough to survive down there?"

Borgruk snorted. "She's cunning. Plus, with full access to the dwarven alchemical lab, she's like a grub in the root cellar. She has access to many rare ingredients down there. Plenty of things to defend herself with. Before we deal with someone like that, we need to be prepared."

"Do you think she'll react with hostility?" Justin asked. "I would think she'd be more interested in proving her innocence."

"Hard to say," Borgruk replied. "Only time will tell."

Bohemond, who had been quiet thus far, spoke up. "She sounds guilty to me. Fleeing right after her niece was poisoned? What more proof do we need?"

Borgruk glanced at him and nodded. "Exactly. She's had her eye on the throne for a long time. If Nyrissa dies, Glamshara's next in line. Simple as that. She didn't think she'd get caught. We're lucky Zogmar detected the poison, even if he doesn't know how to cure it."

Bohemond grunted in agreement. If the Knight was to bond with the goblin over something, it seemed fitting that it would be a mutual suspicion.

At last, they arrived at Zogmar's workshop. The space was cluttered, with stone shelves overflowing with vials, strange plants, and containers. Various alchemical instruments. Glass tubes, brass measuring devices, and burners were scattered across a wide stone table that dominated the center of the room. The air smelled of burned herbs and something acidic.

Zogmar, a hunched goblin with an eyepatch over his left eye, watched them enter with his bright, piercing right eye. He paused in his stirring of a mixture in a small flask.

"Zogmar," Borgruk said, "this is Kargan the Blood Warden. He and his companions are here by the Queen's order to help us bring Glamshara to justice."

Zogmar turned, his voice crackling with age yet infused with enthusiasm. "Ah, good! About time. Everyone's too scared to go into the Underdeep to apprehend her. But I suspect she's already dead. All those dwarven contraptions probably got to her first!"

Justin couldn't shake the feeling that Zogmar sounded almost gleeful at the prospect of Glamshara's potential demise, but he set that thought aside for now. He needed Zogmar's help. "I understand you discovered it was poison. Can you tell us more about that?"

Zogmar grunted and reached for a worn leather book from a cluttered shelf. "The symptoms point to Shadow's Kiss." He flipped through the pages filled with strange symbols and diagrams. "It's a very rare poison. It kills slowly. You use it when you hate someone and want them to suffer, or to make it look like Cave Lung. When more violent symptoms begin to show, it can be too late if you don't have the right antidote on hand—something Glamshara likely counted on."

Justin considered this. If Zogmar was right about the malice involved, it suggested that the murderer was someone close to the Queen, someone who hated her enough to want her to suffer. Given Glamshara's storied history with the Queen, she certainly fit that profile.

Zogmar's fingers traced a drawing of a twisted violet plant. "The first ingredient is Gloom Lotus. It's common enough in the caverns of Drakendir. It acts as a strong sedative, but it's not lethal on its own. A bit at night will induce deep slumber, while a smaller dose can loosen your tongue and boost your confidence."

Next, he turned the page to show them an illustration of a dried desert flower. "The second ingredient, Sandbloom, can only be found in the deserts of Farun, in the south of Atelinar. It's nearly impossible to obtain here, but the dwarves had some in stock at the excavation site."

Finally, Zogmar showed them a beautiful blue bloom, its petals shaped like a five-pointed star, glowing faintly. "And the last ingredient: Starflower. It's found only in the foothills of the Western Seraphims, in the north of Daeloria and the foothills of Kurath. It's not hard to obtain, so it could have come from anyone's stock."

The name sparked something in Justin's memory. He recalled the song Lila had sung when they left Mistwatch, a song about Elara that mentioned starflowers. It was a fleeting connection, but it tugged at him.

Justin studied the images, his mind racing. "Glamshara could have obtained the Gloom Lotus from here, along with the Starflower. But from what you're telling me, there's no way she could have acquired the Sandbloom except from the excavation site. Correct?"

Zogmar's good eye gleamed with satisfaction. "Exactly. She was particularly excited about the Sandbloom essence. It's a very potent poison accelerant, you see."

"And what about progress on an antidote?" Kargan asked.

Zogmar's expression darkened. "Nothing yet. Most poisons have antidotes, of course. But a rare poison like Shadow's Kiss requires rare ingredients to counteract it. It's tricky when several poisonous agents fuse into a single draught. I'm trying, but my skill can only go so far. Unlike Glamshara, I lack a class that can assist with these matters, so I'm relying on my own knowledge and experience. I'm more known for mixing medicines for the tribe—and Zildur, too, in a pinch. Glamshara is the one skilled with poisons."

Kargan crossed his arms. "Is there anything else we should know?"

Zogmar nodded. "If you're going after Glamshara, be careful. She's deadly with her blowgun, and one shot from her poisoned darts will send you to an early grave."

"Thanks for the warning," Bohemond said, breaking his silence. "Rest assured, we'll bring the little gremlin to justice."

Borgruk stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. "We should get moving."

They left Zogmar's workshop, with Borgruk leading them toward the back of the throne room, where an iron gate loomed, sealing off a dark, wide corridor. Justin assumed this led to the Underdeep itself.

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Blocking their path stood a towering goblin, over five feet tall, which was quite lofty for his kind. He had dark green skin and broad shoulders that strained against the battered iron armor he wore. A jagged scar cut across his cheek, and yellowed tusks jutted from a mouth twisted into a smirk, giving him an air of dominance. To Justin, this goblin epitomized the alpha male archetype—a sort of "Chad" among goblins. He carried himself with a swagger that made it clear he was accustomed to getting his way.

The goblin smiled, revealing his sharp teeth. Unlike most goblins, his voice was notably low. "Heading off so soon?"

Borgruk gave him a quick bow. "Warlord Grashuk. To what do we owe this honor?"

"Rise, Captain Borgruk," Grashuk said, his voice deep and commanding. "I came to wish you well with your hunt. I have my doubts, but perhaps a neutral party is what we need to get to the bottom of this." His gaze lingered on Kargan before flicking to Justin and Bohemond. "I trust Zogmar warned you about Glamshara's poisons?"

"He did," Justin replied. "But we're professionals."

Warlord Grashuk chuckled, but Justin noticed something unsettling in the glint of his eye. "Of course. My warriors are brave, but many quail at the thought of facing her. And the constructs that roam the Underdeep? They'll be eager to tear you apart."

"You're the Warlord here?" Kargan asked.

"Aye," Grashuk confirmed. "I am the strongest warrior in the tribe, and I lead all the war parties." He cast a steady gaze over the group, then straightened his posture. His voice shifted from gruff to formal, almost mechanical. "Glamshara's guilt runs deep. Remember, if Nyrissa dies, Glamshara inherits the throne. Bring her back for judgment, and you will be richly rewarded."

Justin's eyes narrowed at the abrupt shift in his demeanor. It was subtle, but perhaps significant.

"Thank you," Justin said, nodding. "We should get moving."

"Of course," Grashuk replied. "If you need anything, just ask."

Justin nodded again, though something about Grashuk's demeanor unsettled him. Like Zogmar, he seemed overly eager to reach a quick resolution. Perhaps too eager.

"Let's go," Borgruk urged. "It's already late."

Justin wondered how Borgruk could tell the time down here, but his body indicated it was likely mid-afternoon. He was already tired from the day's ordeal, but there was still work to do. They could at least figure things out with Glamshara before returning for some sleep.

As Borgruk opened the iron gate and they stepped into the shadowed hall beyond, Justin's mind churned with everything they had learned. So many names, so many motives. Everyone seemed eager to point the finger at Glamshara, and at first glance, she was undoubtedly the prime suspect.

However, Zogmar, with his knowledge of potions, was also of interest. He could be framing Glamshara out of jealousy for her Alchemist class while he remained unqualified. Even if this were true, he still held the esteemed position of Potions Master. Perhaps it was because Glamshara wasn't worthy of trust.

Then there was Grashuk, who had offered a reward for Glamshara's swift apprehension. His shift into a formal, mechanical tone, reciting lines almost like a schoolboy, was suspicious as well.

Even Zildur was not above suspicion. She was close to the Queen and could have easily attempted to poison her. However, Justin couldn't see any clear motive—at least, not yet.

Justin and the others had neglected to ask how the poison was administered. It had occurred during the Feast of Fates, but in time, they would learn more.

The group followed Borgruk into the winding depths of the Underdeep beneath the palace. The narrow corridors twisted and turned in an endless maze of stone.

To Justin, this place felt downright creepy. Occasionally, he caught strange mechanical sounds drifting through the darkness—the distant whirring and clanking of long-dead machines still operating, even centuries after the dwarves' demise. The space was illuminated by blue crystals, similar to those in the palace above. With every step, the air grew heavier, laden with the musty scent of age and decay. It reminded him of the Highcliff catacombs, but here, the angles were sharper, more grid-like, as if the dwarves had been unreserved in carving their will into the mountain.

"What must this place have been like back in the day?" he muttered to himself, loud enough for Kargan and Bohemond to hear.

"A kingdom," Kargan replied, his voice low. "A proud one."

Bohemond scoffed, glancing at their guide. "A kingdom of rats now. Devious beings, these goblins are!"

The knight had spoken in Aranthian, but the way their guide leered at him made it clear that it was an insult. Unlike Bohemond, he had the grace to endure it. He continued to lead them forward, his eyes darting toward the shadows.

After a few moments, Justin risked asking a question he had pondered for a while: "What caused the fall of the dwarves, anyway?"

Borgruk's shoulders stiffened at the question. His pace faltered, but he didn't turn to face Justin. "Best not to ask."

Justin pressed on. "You must know something. This place didn't fall into ruin on its own."

Borgruk stopped and turned to face Justin with narrowed eyes. "You ask too many questions, human. Some things are better left forgotten. Some things, once named, have a knack for showing up."

The way Borgruk spoke sent a chill down Justin's spine. He opened his mouth to inquire further, but before he could speak, Borgruk turned away again, quickening his pace.

The rest of the journey passed in tense silence.

Justin spared a thought for the Baron. He was likely stationed right outside the Vault, trying to surround it and secure every exit. Given the layout of the Underdeep, there seemed to be many potential escape routes.

At last, after what felt like hours of walking, they reached their destination. A massive stone archway, half-collapsed from the weight of centuries, marked the entrance to the excavation site.

Borgruk led them over the rubble, his movements nimble. Justin and the others followed closely, scrambling over the debris.

Once on the other side, Justin found himself in a vast chamber, the walls lined with rows of ancient alchemical equipment. Dusty vials and broken retorts littered the ground, their glass surfaces cracked and worn. Strange machines hummed in the background, and Justin wondered how they were still running.

The air was thick with the smell of chemicals, sharp and acrid. Justin's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the remnants of the lab. The machinery, the vials, the strange glowing liquids—all suggested that the dwarves had been tampering with forces they couldn't control.

"What in the Nether were they doing down here?" Kargan muttered, his amber eyes scanning the room.

Borgruk's expression was grim. "Who knows? When you mix potions with Chaos Magic, the results are… unpredictable. When we found this place, I remember Glamshara mentioning how the dwarves were trying to unlock eternal life or something. They ended up killing themselves in the attempt. Some things are not meant to be unlocked."

As if on cue, three ghostly sentinels materialized in the chamber before them. Their forms were barely visible, faint outlines of dwarves wearing flowing robes and bearing ethereal weapons. There was something malevolent about them, something twisted.

"Ghosts?" Bohemond asked, his voice tense.

Borgruk nodded. "They were here before, too. Glamshara said their failed potions bound them to this place, even after their bodies died. They exist somewhere halfway between this world and the Nether. It seems it's our job to encourage their transition."

Justin took a step forward, his cane tapping against the stone floor. "And we need to get through them, don't we?"

Borgruk's eyes flicked to Justin, then to Kargan and Bohemond. "If you want to find Glamshara, yes."

The air in the chamber grew colder as the ghostly figures drifted closer.

"Get ready," Justin said, tightening his grip on his cane.

Bohemond drew his sword, the blade glinting in the dim light. Justin hoped the Knight's weapon and armor were enchanted, allowing him to attack the ethereal enemies.

Kargan raised his Staff of Blood Aegis, the crimson glow of its magic swirling around him. "Stay inside the spell."

Bohemond moved in front of the party, ready to be the first line of defense.

The first spirit let out a wail and darted forward, its ethereal war hammer swinging. It crashed into the aegis, which shattered, but not without obliterating the ghost. Bohemond confronted the second ghost head-on, raising his shield just in time. It flashed red with enchantment.

"For Arion!" the Knight cried.

As Bohemond engaged, Justin slipped to the side, his cane striking out. The blow landed on the specter with a flash of yellow magic. It screeched but still clung on.

Borgruk was already in motion, a whirlwind of iron. His scimitar flashed, slicing through the third ghost, which emitted a bright red glow at the point of impact. The specter howled and flickered before dissipating into nothingness. Thankfully, it seemed his blade was enchanted, and the fact that he could utilize its magic likely indicated he had a class.

Justin focused on the remaining sentinel, his cane dancing in his hands. He struck again and again, weakening the ghost with each blow. He felt the benefits of his amulet; he was hitting harder than before and moving with newfound grace.

The ghost raised its axe, but Justin was quicker, slipping out of range before the weapon could connect. With precision, he extended the hidden blade from the tip of his cane and pierced the ghost's core. The specter flickered before dissolving into vapor.

"Well, that was easy," Justin said, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction.

But from the shadows, a soothing female voice interrupted, "Oh, you think so?"

Justin spun, cane raised. At the far end of the chamber, Glamshara emerged.