10-75. Not That Kind of Dungeon
"Uh…this is not what I expected," Elijah breathed as he watched Atticus cuff Lindstrom to a bed. He glanced around, unsure what to make of his friend's basement. There were no bars or cells.
"Don't worry. It'll hold, my friend," Atticus said, looking back with a broad grin. "I've tested it myself."
Through Soul of the Wild, Elijah felt Selene – Atticus' new wife – roll her eyes. She clutched her crossed arms even closer to her chest. "I can't believe you brought him in here," she said. "I didn't even have time to clean."
"Oh, god," muttered Lindstrom.
Elijah cut himself off from Soul of the Wild when he sensed some things he wished he hadn't. It didn't take a genius to infer the purpose of the so-called dungeon, but that knowledge was far different than sensing the evidence of its hard use.
"Ah, we're clean enough," Atticus assured the prisoner. He self-seriously patted him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine."
"Except for the nightmares."
Atticus laughed. "I like this one!" he exclaimed. "I hope we don't have to kill him."
"Me too," Lindstrom mumbled. "Mostly."
"Is he really secure?" Elijah asked, massaging the space between his eyes. Despite the levity of the situation, he couldn't escape the reasons he'd come to Atticus in the first place. And it certainly wasn't to use his dungeon.
"I got those cuffs from an Arcane Engineer who works for the Conclave. They use them to restrain…ah…undesirables. Believe me, they'll hold him," Atticus said. "Besides, if he tries to escape, we'll just hunt him down. I have many friends who owe me many favors."
"I have no intention of trying to escape. Or I didn't before you brought me to this…place," the assassin said. "Now, I'm kind of wishing you'd just killed me."
Selene, who was clearly uncomfortable having strangers in such an intimate place, gave Atticus a pointed look. It wasn't difficult to see why Atticus had married her. She wasn't just pretty. She was absolutely gorgeous, the type of woman who might've been an actress or a swimsuit model in the past. And her thin robe did little to hide her shapely body.
But she also just as clearly had a strong personality, which was necessary to keep Atticus in line. The man enjoyed his vices, including questionable relationships with a wide variety of women. Anyone who could ensnare him so completely that he abandoned his carousing ways was obviously more than a match for the Merchant.
Elijah had only met her a few minutes before, but he'd instantly taken a liking to her.
And he even managed to convince himself that it had nothing to do with her assets or how easy it was to fall into the trap of admiring them.
He had a girlfriend, after all. He only had eyes for Sadie.
Mostly.
In any case, Selene's glare was the only impetus Atticus needed to prompt him into ascending the stairs to the ground floor. As he followed along, Elijah was once again struck by the sheer luxury on display. Gold trim was ubiquitous. Expensive crystal fixtures, powerfully magical paintings, and sculptures were everywhere. Even the building itself radiated an aura of vitality that set it apart from a normal structure.
Appropriate for what was probably the richest man in the world.
"Ah, this is the first you've seen of my new home, isn't it?" Atticus asked, striding along, his robe flapping in the air. "Spared no expense. Architect from Seattle. Builders from Ironshore. These paintings – Jacques Dubois originals, straight from Paris."
"Wait," Elijah said. "Paris is still out there?"
"Of course! Center of the arts, they say," Atticus replied. Then, he went on to say that the city was much diminished from its former glory, but those who had survived had formed a collective of Entertainers. They had fighters and other archetypes, but they'd clearly found their niche. Elijah vowed to visit someday. When they reached a sitting room, Atticus quickly found the nearby wet bar and said, "More importantly, this whisky was made by the most talented Distiller I know. You have to try it, my friend."
Elijah raised his hand. "Can't. Not until we take care of business."
Atticus didn't have any compunctions about partaking, so he quickly poured his own drink. In the meantime, Selene had disappeared upstairs. Elijah checked on her via Soul of the Wild, and he saw that she was making herself more presentable. He also kept a close eye on Gunnar, who, aside from wearing a disgusted look, seemed entirely content to wait things out.
Once Atticus had drained his drink, then poured another, he sat on one of the leather couches in the center of the room. Even that radiated ethera and vitality, which was both comforting and a little overwhelming, even to Elijah. Not because of the energy itself, but rather, due to the implications of what else would be possible in the future. If someone had enough money, they could create a true sanctuary on par with the grove.
Maybe.
The only difference was that the grove would continue to grow with Elijah's power. Certainly, Nerthus' efforts increased its power, but most of it came from being linked to Elijah. Something told him that no one on Earth would ever rival that – so long as he kept up with his cultivation and levels.
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"So," Atticus said, throwing one arm over the couch as Elijah sat across from him. "Tell me what you need. Other than the use of my dungeon, of course."
Elijah sighed. Then, he launched into an explanation of everything he'd been through since the last time they'd seen one another. Oddly enough, Atticus already knew some of it. He was well-informed, so he kept tabs on important cities like New York, Ironshore, and even Seattle.
That last bit was the most useful.
"There are even more factions than the three mentioned by your assassin," Atticus said. "The city is a mess. On the surface, everything is running smoothly, but just underneath, it is chaos. In addition to those three groups, there are also two crime lords vying for power. They don't seek direct control. Just influence. Ostensibly, it is a city of law and order, but where those exist, so will criminals."
"But how? Last time I was there, Isaiah had formed a police state. He had drones everywhere."
"The world is changing. His powers of surveillance are powerful. There is no doubt about that, my friend," Atticus explained, taking a sip. He let out a sigh of satisfaction before continuing, "But where there is power, there is always a counter. Sometimes, it is as mundane as meeting co-conspirators outside the city. Other times, it is based on evolving class abilities.
"Isaiah Roberts is one of the best-informed people on the planet. He has surveillance everywhere. Not just in Seattle. And where he can't get his drones, he has agents who report back to him," Atticus went on. "But every man has limits, and he has found his. He's stretched too thin. He can't keep up with it all. Not alone. And he doesn't trust anyone else to shoulder the burden."
"Yeah. I got the impression that he was a bit…"
"Paranoid? That's him. He doesn't even trust his own government."
"Given the situation, should he?" asked Elijah. If he had multiple factions working against him, then trusting them would have been a grave mistake.
"Fair enough, my friend," Atticus agreed. "But even if his paranoia is justified, he still can't keep up."
"Do you think he was the one who hired Gunnar?"
"Is that his name?" Atticus wondered. "I've heard it before."
"He used to be in the top ten."
"Not there…"
Atticus took another sip as he pondered the assassin's identity. Then, his eyes lit up. "Ah. That's it. He was recommended to me during the Summit. Surreptitiously, of course. Just a name on a piece of paper, with instructions to contact him via the Branch messaging system."
"Who recommended him?" Elijah asked.
Before Atticus could respond, Selene reappeared. Her blue gown, which was trimmed in gold thread, wasn't much less revealing than the skimpy robe she'd worn before, but it was at least a bit less scandalous. She settled in next to Atticus, leaning into his bulky frame.
"It was that French Canadian," he said at last. "Lefevre. Jean-luc Lefevre. Weapons manufacturer. He was trying to strike a deal to gain membership in the Consortium. Of course, he wanted special treatment. Said he was worth more than a few mundane crafters. Kept going on about how his cannons were going to change the face of warfare. Kind of insufferable, if I'm honest. But he could back up his claims. Those cannons were impressive."
"I think I've seen them," Elijah said, remembering the weaponry of the modern-looking ship that had attacked his island. Those sailors had all been armed with Seattle's rifles as well. Bloodrock Bay had been equipped with a couple as well. "I wasn't that impressed."
"Ah, you wouldn't be, would you? But those of us who aren't indestructible have to look at things a bit differently," Atticus said.
Elijah nodded, though his mind was on Gunnar's story. He'd told a tale of a fractured Seattle, and Atticus' information seemed to support that notion. In fact, it was even worse than the assassin thought.
"Who do you think hired him?" Elijah asked.
Atticus leaned back. "I don't know," he admitted. "Smart money is on Isaiah. He hates you. Everyone knows it, too. And that's the problem. I don't think it was him, but that might be what he wants us to think."
"And the others?"
"Equally capable of doing it. It could have even been someone outside of Seattle. You have no shortage of enemies," Atticus replied. "Some are simply jealous. Others believe the worst of the stories. There are thousands of threads out there, and everyone is scrambling for power. You're standing in their way. Or you represent a useful catalyst, and that's not even considering people that just dislike you."
"Everybody likes me."
Atticus fixed him with a disbelieving stare.
"Okay, maybe not everybody. Or most people. But some people like me. Like, my family. Friends. Well, most of my friends. Kurik more tolerates than likes me, I think," he admitted. "But I guess that just proves your point."
Atticus nodded. "It is a sticky web, my friend. What will you do?"
Elijah leaned back with a sigh. "I have no idea."
If anything, that admission was an understatement. Not only did he have no clue who'd hired Gunnar, but he also had a hundred other responsibilities gnawing at his mind. Right now, he knew the locations of two unconquered Primal Realms. Both were begging for his attention, though he wasn't sure which he wanted to tackle first. The djinn realm was the most interesting, but the trolls would assuredly allow him to gain more levels. They were also more dangerous, but that danger was mitigated by the fact that their advance had been stymied by the dark elves.
Then there was his impending mind cultivation, which would assuredly take weeks to complete – and that was with him concentrating on it. Managing the grove and inducting new members also weighed on him.
"Are you okay, my friend?" asked Atticus.
Elijah shrugged. "Not really. I've got a lot on my mind."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Atticus asked.
Elijah shook his head, saying, "No. I don't think it'd do much good. What I really need is to talk to everyone involved and make a real plan. No more flying around without any rhyme or reason."
He loathed the notion of living a constrained life. He wanted to roam, to explore. But the reality of it was that he simply couldn't afford to do that anymore. Perhaps when the Primal Realms were conquered and Earth was safe from excisement, but until then, he needed focus.
"Do you ever wish someone else was there to shoulder your responsibilities?" Elijah asked.
Atticus leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "In my youth, I did. I ran from it. I told myself that I was making progress, that I was working toward something. But in the end, it was all procrastination. Only when the world changed did I realize how much time I had wasted. Even then, I imagined becoming an adventuring merchant. There are hybrid classes for that, you know. But it was not long before I came to terms with what I could do for this city, for its people. For the members of the Consortium. Since then, that is what I have done.
"Your problems are much bigger than a single city," he said, setting down his now-empty glass. The table's surface rippled with rainbow light as soon as the container made contact. "But the philosophy remains the same. Sometimes, power, whether it's money or levels, means that you are the only one to do the job. Embrace that. Internalize it. Use it as fuel. But whatever you do, do not fight it. Neither you nor the world can afford that."
Then, he laughed. "But what do I know? I'm just a fat merchant with a beautiful wife!" he said, his joviality returning as he threw his arm around Selene. He pulled her close, kissing her on the forehead.
"You're more than that, and we both know it. But thanks," he said before pushing himself to his feet. "I guess I have an assassin to deal with."
But even as he turned his attention back to the dungeon, he wasn't quite sure what to do with Gunnar.