Blue Core

Harold didn’t much like the situation.

Oh, retaking Meil was a good step, and a necessary one, and he wasn’t sure how they would have accomplished it on their own. That didn’t mean he was much taken with the...other dungeon, and all that came with it. The chief thing he objected to was Queen Iniri having to debase herself to be cured of Depletion.

He’d guarded the girl since she was young, and he’d been expecting to turn her over to some particularly well-heeled prince for her marriage bed. What she’d gotten instead was considerably less than she deserved, and he had doubts about how well-reasoned that exchange had been. The Queen did have her Heritage Skill back though, that was clear enough. The cost was just so high.

Then there was the way Shayma flittered about, as if presuming she was of the same status as his Queen. He liked the girl well enough, especially since she gave Queen Iniri some much-needed female company, but ever since she shacked up with the dungeon she’d been a little...strange. Talking to herself, appearing and vanishing without regard to proper protocol, and of course acting like the dungeon was an actual person.

She really didn’t seem to notice how damned eerie the thing was, with walls and floors moving of their own accord, silent adjustments to room sizes or furnishings, and of course the use of some transparently potent magics. Some days he was afraid he’d wake up in an entirely different place than where he went to sleep. It didn’t much help that they hadn’t left it behind when they took Meil, the thing somehow managing to exist in the city as well as back in its mountain fortress. If he had been a less wise man, he would have complained of it to Shayma or perhaps even Queen Iniri.

He had to admit some of this grumpiness was just pique. Some random members of a little-known third-tier party had gotten Primal Sources, and he had not. Though, considering that of all those who had received such Sources, four were women under the dungeon’s influence and one was Yamal, a fourth-tier that had been...well, not killed, but as good as, maybe they were not as much a blessing as it seemed. But as [Sword Saint] used both light and kinetic Affinities, he could have benefited enormously from receiving some.

If Shayma hadn’t seen fit to remember him to her master, it would have been nice if she’d asked it to help him with his job. So far there hadn’t been any roving assassins, but the number of people who wanted access to his Queen for other, slightly less nefarious purposes was astoundingly high. “If I catch you on the grounds again I will throw you to the dungeon to eat,” he growled to the rotund little man. It was the second time the [Merchant] had snuck in trying to get a bite of Iniri’s time, trying to bypass the queue. If nothing else, the dungeon could be useful as a threat.

“But, but, if you’d only give me five minutes -” The man spluttered, as inanely self-serving as all too many of his Class. Not that all [Merchants] were a problem, but he never could quite trust someone who centered their abilities around money. Considering how few stores were intact and how few actual customers could be found, he was thoroughly unsympathetic to whatever the [Merchant’s] idea was.

“Out,” Harold said firmly, quite literally tossing the man onto the cobbles outside. Fairly gently, in all. At level twenty or so, to judge by the feel the [Sword Saint] got from him, it would take more than that to do anything other than bruise. He was a little surprised when the man limped away, but then he reminded himself that anyone from Meil would be sporting a good chunk of Depletion.

He was feeling it himself, though he’d only been responsible for evacuating people and not fighting Vok Nal directly. The damage wasn’t too bad but he was quite certain he’d lost a level of [Robustness] at the very least. On the other hand, he could feel the density of the mana the dungeon brought with it. Even if he couldn’t see it, there was something about the atmosphere that made him twitchy.

It didn’t much help that all he was doing was standing guard. Now, standing guard was what he’d been doing for all of Iniri’s life, but after the past few years it seemed terribly inadequate. After the past few days it seemed terribly inadequate. He really wanted to lock Iniri in a secluded monastery somewhere until things blew over, no matter how ridiculous an impulse it was. Things wouldn’t blow over.

The next person meandering up seemed utterly immune to his ire, despite the fact that they were clearly lower level. Level didn’t mean everything, but there weren’t many Classes with the stats and Skills necessary to take on a higher-level [Sword Saint]. Given the man’s fine clothing, he might be relying on his status instead, as if patents of nobility meant much anymore.

He frowned at the petitioner as the man walked up, offering Harold a brief bow. “I request an audience with Queen Iniri,” he said, which was more or less what everyone so far had said to the guards at the manor. There simply weren’t enough people to set up proper channels for petitioning the queen. “My name is Orel, I am here representing King Toren of Nivir.”

Harold gave him a sharp look. The name sounded Nivirese enough, but Orel looked like a sailor, with salt-tanned skin stretched tight over his bones, not to mention the fact that his teeth weren’t pointed. He looked, in fact, like he could have come from any port town in Tarnil, which meant that he was not only a spy but probably a traitor. In another day and age he would have arrested the man for such a thing, but two things stopped him. The first was that they didn’t have the facilities for dealing with accused spies, and the other was that the man flashed the seal of Nivir, one of the tokens for those representing their ruler.

“...Korun, I’ll take him up.” The other guard nodded in response. He would have preferred a whole platoon of guards for the manor, but they had to make do with just two per door. Even then, there were fewer doors than there had been, since he’d insisted on boarding over ones they weren’t actually using.

He fixed Orel with a glare, one hand on the hilt of his sword. “This way,” he said, opening the door. The inside of the manor was actually quite crowded, with all the apparatus of city and country governance moved into one place, but nobody did more than glance at them as Harold brought the spy and messenger upstairs.

Giving the man another glare, he had a quiet word with one of his comrades who was outside Iniri’s door, and waited for the reply. He was hoping he’d be told to eject the Nivirese spy from the city, but alas, such was not to be.

Lorsen emerged with the Shayma girl in tow – presumably she’d teleported inside again – and nodded at the door. “Her Highness says to bring him in and stay.”

At least she was letting him stay to make sure the Nivirese man tried nothing. Oh, with [Shield of Tarnil] back it wasn’t likely that anyone could actually hurt her, but it eased his mind to be there just in case. Orel wasn’t deaf, so he followed Harold into the room without any further prompting.

His Queen was looking more well-rested than usual, sharp dark eyes appraising Orel and giving Harold the faintest of nods. “A messenger from Nivir,” she said, not quite a question. “The timing is quite interesting.”

“Your Majesty.” Orel bowed. “You are a difficult woman to find.”

“Not that difficult.” Queen Iniri said dryly. “Nivir knew I was in Meil months ago, unless Vok Nal caught Riri when she snuck out.”

Orel managed to hide any reaction, but Harold grinned. Cheya was cold and scary, but she was very good at her job. He hadn’t known that the maid Iniri mentioned was a Nivirese informant, but it didn’t surprise him now that he thought about it. The revelation certainly explained why none of the Queen’s other maidservants seemed too distraught about her disappearance.

“I am merely here as King Toren’s messenger, Your Majesty,” Orel insisted. “Far be it from me to remark on the actions of others.”

The Queen didn’t comment on that. “What does Nivir have to say to me?”

Orel fished out his seal again. “King Toren sends his regards, and his regrets at the depredations performed on your land.”

Queen Iniri had a more diplomatic face than he did, but he could still read her, and he could tell she was doing her best not to roll her eyes. Relations with Nivir weren’t so bad that they’d fallen into outright hostility, but it was no great secret they would love to have Wildwood and coastal access. Diplomatic necessities had to be observed, however, so neither of them commented on the blatant lie. Though to be fair, it might be genuine enough that he was outraged at what the mage-kings had done, even if he didn’t much care about the target.

“As a fellow ruler, King Toren has sent me to offer sanctuary to you and your retinue until such time as your land can be reclaimed.”

“I see.” Queen Iniri’s lips tightened. She could read the offer just as well as he could. The sanctuary would come at a cost, likely some form of political marriage if she were lucky, a pleasant imprisonment and stewardship of her land if she were less lucky. The alternatives were worse from there.

“Under other circumstances, I may have considered Toren’s offer. If this was offered before I retook Meil, for example. Coming after I have successfully defeated a mage-king, and shown that they are indeed vulnerable, it reeks of rife opportunism.”

“I cannot comment on my King’s motives, Your Majesty,” Orel said tactfully.

“You may tell King Toren that I will not be accepting his offer. You make take that rejection in the same spirit as the offer was given.” Her tone was a touch waspish, but it was more polite than he would have been.

“I understand, Your Majesty.” It was clear that Orel wasn’t particularly happy with the dismissal, but he wasn’t about to say anything else.

“See him out, Harold.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Harold said with no small amount of relish, and loomed over the Niverese man. He got a satisfying flinch from Orel at that, since with Harold’s Skills it probably seemed he’d simply appeared in front of the messenger.

“Thank you for seeing me, Your Majesty.” Orel bowed and and allowed himself to be escorted out. The exchange had been entirely tame, but when Harold glanced back at his Queen, just before he closed the door, he saw the worry in her eyes. Nivir was going to be trouble.