Pathos sat in his office, looking out the one way window at the streets outside. Deacon and his party were walking past, in high spirits as the Rosecrest girl showed off her new Tier 2 ID.
“Are you sure we should have given her a Tier 2?” Maximilian said from his seat across from Pathos. “Something is weird about her.”
The birdman turned his head to look at his protege. Rather than answer his question, he asked one of his own. “Do you know who that was?”
Maximilian nodded slowly, “Yea, hard not to. Her mother was one of the best Tier 4 adventurers we had, and her father is single handedly leading the efforts to push back the FFF.”
“That alone is enough for a Tier 1 ID, would you not agree?” Pathos said, turning back to look outside.
The man in the patchwork quilt tilted his head, “I thought we didn’t do nepotism in the guild?”
There was a soft hoot of amusement, “It’s not nepotism.” Pathos said as he pressed a button on the window, turning it back into a solid piece that resembled a wooden wall. He then walked back to his desk and sat down, “How’d she do on the written test?”
“Barely passed.” Maximilian replied. “Though the parts she failed were all monster and history based.”
“Which is unusual because…?” Pathos prompted.
His protege frowned, “Because the parts on system functions and the class selection menu from the crystal are the sections that usually get failed.”
“Because most can’t read them until we teach them.” Pathos added.
There was silence for several seconds as Maximilian considered that. Pathos broke the silence first. “Did you see the diagram she drew for the class selection?”
The other man nodded, “Yea, I’d never even heard of some of the classes she put down.” He grabbed the sheet in question from Pathos’ desk. “What’s a Mechanical Engineer or a Gunsmith?”
“They’re mostly classes from further Counter than here. Several countries further and across the Inner sea. Where black smog billows into the skies from the mountains.” Pathos’ face twisted in distaste, “It wasn’t a fun place to be assigned.”
“So… why would she know about them?” The other man was confused.
The birdman held out his hand and accepted the paper. “Because she was copying it from a screen.”
“That’s… not possible. There isn’t a crystal in that room, and they’re too big to hide.” Maximilian firmly stated.
“And yet, my Assessment tells me that these are copied.” He pointed at the dots that represented the classes. “You see how these are spaced out properly, but the writing is all squished like it was filling a diagram that was too small? She likely made the screen bigger after to see the names properly.”
Maximilian furrowed his brow, “That doesn’t prove she can see it, just that her planning skills aren’t the best.”
“True, I suppose.” Pathos admitted, “But she leveled in the lobby.”
“What?!” Maximilian exclaimed. “How?!”
The birdman shook his head, “I don’t know. I’d have missed it entirely if I hadn’t been keeping an eye on Deacon. My skill alerted me to the change.”
Maximilian leaned back in his chair, head tilting up to stare at the ceiling, “So… what does that mean?”
“It means, I’m putting in for a transfer sooner than I’d initially planned. I’ll be out of here after the swarm ends.” Pathos replied, lacing his fingers together on top of his desk and tapping his thumbs together. “I’ve already filed the paperwork, it just needs to reach the Master of Guilds.”
“What?! But I’m not ready to take over!” Maximilian shouted in surprise as he leaned forward hard enough his chair almost tipped him forward. “Why?!”
“Because, that girl is likely a system agent of some kind. I can’t, and won’t try to, prove it but they all had weird abilities. Accessing the crystal menus without them isn’t outside of the realm of possibilities.” Pathos explained calmly.
“What’s a system agent?” Maximilian asked in confusion.
Pathos sighed, “Right, you haven’t been read in on that bit of history yet.” The birdman got up and went over to a shelf that held a series of official looking books. He pulled one out and set it on the desk in front of Maximilian. “This one goes over the incident. Short version? A system agent condemned a Master of Guilds for imprisoning several people against their will.”
The other man took the book and opened it. “That’s… not that bad. Why was it noteworthy?”
“Because a condemnation from a system agent can do all sorts of nasty things, up to and including removing all of your levels, stats, and skills. Or just cutting system access altogether.” Maximilian went white as a sheet as Pathos explained just how serious this was. “And then they gave us the rules.”
“Rules?” Maximilian asked. “Like the no participation in slavery or no imprisonment.”
Pathos held up a hand and started to count on them. “No participation in slavery. No imprisonment for longer than five days, after which they should be turned over to the authorities. No forcing yourself on others for sexual gratification. No torturing for information. And if we find anyone developing a disease, illness, or plague they are to be immediately killed.”
“Those are all rules in the current charter.” Maximilian stated as he scratched at the top of his head, “Are the other things in there, like no stealing or killing fellow guild members?”
Pathos shook his head, “I don’t think the system cares, especially since there are classes like Thief and Assassin.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Right.” Maximilian said, blandly. “So, why would that make you want to leave?”
Pathos sighed and his gaze seemed to not be seeing the room anymore. “Because this country is a barrel of alchemical oil. Stable, but one spark…”
Maximilian frowned, “I can’t be that bad, can it?”
Pathos was silent for a long time before speaking again.
The massive beast fell, unable to continue from it’s injuries. A well dressed man in black and red stood a good distance away, monitoring it as glowing motes circled above him. Despite the dangerous situation, he didn’t have any armor on, just a suit with the roses of his house emblazoned on them.
Herald Rosecrest walked back to the safe room at a slow walk, a little tired, but not terribly so. He frowned as he ran his fingers through his light brown hair, hating how shaggy it was getting. This was followed by rubbing at the stubble on his face. He wasn’t getting as much chance to shave as he used to.
The monsters were coming more frequently.
“I’m going to have to organize a deeper delve soon.” He said as soon as he was past the threshold.
The saferoom looked more like a busy hive. There were dozens of people, moving around and organizing the various creature parts for transport back up to the surface. There were more gearing up to resume activity on the sixth floor above them. And off to the side were the rooms the dungeon allowed for those who needed to rest before continuing to delve.
One of the armored men nearby ran up to him, “My lord! We’ll begin harvesting immediately thank you for saving us.”
Herald nodded to the man, probably closer to closer to Calmar’s age than his own. “It’s why I’m here.” He reached out and clapped a hand on the man’s armored shoulder, “If I can’t help in my own dungeon, what good am I as it’s marquis?”
The man laughed nervously at the old joke. “Thank you, my lord.” He ran off to gather his squad to go and retrieve the massive Floral Behemoth.
Herald shook his head and sighed, looking to the ceiling. Today was supposed to be a rest day for him and his summons. All he wanted was to rest right now. He’d been here long enough that his family was starting to be put in danger.
The air heated around him, bringing it from hot summer day near him to nearby magma stream in temperature. With an effort of will he calmed down. The anger at what had been done to his little girl would have to wait. Calmar and Porter were there to aid him. And his most trusted friend was keeping an eye on those two as well.
“Grimoire, keep them safe until I get back.” He said in a soft prayer that he must have repeated every other day since he’d gotten the letters from Calmar.
He was bored.
It wasn’t too different from other days, but it still vexed the man so.
“Keplar.” He said to no one in particular.
A small man in servants livery rushed up and knelt onto the floor, being sure to keep his eyes on the ground. “Your magnificence!” He said in a rush.
“How goes the punishment for Lord Yalsteed?”
The man flinched, but didn’t move to stand. “He is… done with his first son. His second daughter needed her entire hand removed before he would start to copulate, but we needed to give him the drugs to… get it up.”
The man on the throne snorted. “Make sure she’s with child before he’s allowed to stop. Then he can move on to the second stage of his punishment.”
“Yes, your magnificence!” He exclaimed before standing and bowing deeply. Then he scurried off to enact the emperor’s will.
“I still think it’s a little sick to force him to sleep with his children.” A man standing to the side of Emperor Turing’s throne said. “Just for suggesting you lower the taxes.”
The Emperor turned to his Jester. “A man like him wouldn’t respond to torture. Besides, the look of horror as I made him watch his wife with his son was entertaining.” He let out a bark of a laugh, “I almost put a collar on him too, but he’d have justified what he did as the collar. Forcing him to make the choice to stop their suffering by inflicting some of his own is so much sweeter.”
“And your plans for the children too young for such activities?” The Jester questioned.
The Emperor waved a hand dismissively, “They’ll be conscripted. I’m not so far gone that I’d stoop that low.”
“I’m sure Yalsteed would argue otherwise.”
“Ha! Most definitely. Maybe I should take his wife from behind as he watches? I haven’t slept with a woman in a good while.” Emperor Turing tapped his chin with a finger, actually considering it. “No, I think I won’t. If I kill her by accident he might actually break too fast and be useless.”
There was silence in his throne room as he looked out onto the empty finery. Gilded columns rose so high the lights in the floors couldn’t reveal their tops. A thick carpet of blue and gold spread out from the throne to the door leading into it, all one piece. And behind him was a massive crystal column that spun slowly in the air that made his throne look tiny in comparison.
“Tez.” Emperor Turing called out.
A woman sporting spectacles and a fine dress of green and red stepped forward, head lowered, “Yes, your magnificence?”
“Did the collector find out about the alert in Cotton Rock?”
“Yes, your magnificence. He has performed an audit of the city crystal and discovered it was accessed by one Alexei Drowlek.”
There was a significant pause, “Are you certain that was the name?”
“I am, your magnificence.”
Emperor Turing’s face split into a wide grin, “That’s wonderful news!” He clapped once in delight, causing everyone in the room to flinch. One servant began to bleed from their ears, but did their best to not move.
He stood up and waved towards them, “You’re all dismissed.” Without checking to see that they followed his order, he headed for a door to the side and behind his throne. Emperor Turing had plans to make for his favorite administrator.
The screaming finally stopped and the man sighed in satisfaction. It had been several weeks since his last kill, though this one wasn’t nearly as satisfying as that noble had been. The woman now lying on the floor of his hidden basement hadn’t even struggled once the cutting had started.
He refastened his pants and pulled out a small crystal. It activated and cleaned all the blood from his body, leaving him feeling as though he’d just stepped out of a pleasant shower. It then crumbled into dust on the floor covered in dried blood and gore. He took a deep breath, reveling in the metallic tang of the room, then wincing as he noticed the smell of rotting flesh.
Then he walked over to a wall and pulled a lever opening the gates that lead into the sewers. He waited until the acid slimes started towards the newly dead body before climbing the ladder out of the trapdoor. They wouldn’t be able to escape, and it was about time he cleaned the place anyway. The other bodies had begun to ripen a bit too much.
The man shut the trap door so it was flush with the rest of the floor and then slid his desk back over it. Then he climbed the stairs from his workshop to relax in the back room of his shop a bit while the high of his last kill faded. A nice cup of tea and a delicious egg and cheese sandwich that his wife had packed for him. She’d been complaining about him less since he’d bought her a new easel and paints.
Something caught his eye as the door chimed that someone was entering the shop. His assistant was manning the front so he wasn’t worried about checking. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a certain familiarity with the girl that was with this group of people.
It couldn’t be, though. She was very dead, he’d felt it as her life faded.
He set his tea down as he watched them through the illusion glass, browsing his wares, her fingers running along the spines of some of his less expensive books. She looked… plain compared to the noble he’d had his way with. Different hair style, different clothes, even her face seemed different. Contemplative instead of being full of themselves and looking down her nose at the world. A sister, maybe?
No, there was only a daughter with that family. And the adopted son, but he didn’t care about him.
He decided it might be a good idea to look into her. Perhaps her screams would sound as lovely as that noble brat, even if she wasn’t the same person.
