Mage Tank

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to hit him.”

[Culturally, it is the strongest way for you to deny his accusations.]

“Consorting with an avatar isn’t a crime in the books yet, and his own evidence contradicts the shit about the Creation Delve. He hasn’t accused me of anything actionable. Besides, didn’t you say his goal was to get me to hit him?”

[His goal was to distract you. One of Hiward’s definitions for an enemy combatant is “A person who gives aid or conspires to give aid to enemies of the Hiwardian Kingdom with the intent to harm the Kingdom’s people, territories, or interests.” Lord Heronwyte’s accusations likely satisfy those requirements.]

“That’s not part of the Hiwardian criminal code, that’s out of the Laws of Armed Conflict. How does that intersect with the etiquette rules?”

[Your lessons did not cover that scenario. I will ask Riona for clarification.]

“This man,” said Leon, speaking to the crowd, “is no hero! His past is shrouded in secrecy! His very identity is a thinly veiled deceit! He is not from the Third Layer! So far as I can tell, he is not from anywhere!”

“He was distracting me from the bedroom, right? He has to be aware enough to know that didn’t happen, so what’s his endgame?”

[The contents of his message were “Entry confirmed. Parameters: Occupy target 90 minutes after arrival. Methods discussed nonviable. Will make accusation. Reply to change order.”]

[You are the one he is lambasting.]

“Yeah, but a lot of people are paying attention to this right now.”

Most of the attendants had found their way to the spectacle Leon and I were making. Patriarch Ravvenblaq remained in his secluded corner, alongside the Duckgriens. Only a handful of people were missing.

“And what does he have to say in his defense?” Leon preached. “Nothing! He stands there, searching for the lie that will best comfort you!”

[Riona is not responding.] That changed my thought process from mitigating Leon’s activities to preparing for an emergency. [I cannot locate her.]

That skipped me past preparation and right into emergency response.

“Grotto, where’s the rest of the party? What about the Eschen delegation?”

I checked my interface, seeing that everyone in the party had full health.

[All of them entered the lounge to speak with the king over the last thirty minutes.]

“Can you confirm they’re in there?”

[The room is still blanketed by the King’s Guard’s privacy skills. The Guard’s messages indicate the conversation is ongoing.]

I pulled on my connection to the party through my auras.

They weren’t in the Closet.

“Breach the wards. Tell me what’s in there.”

I took off toward Patriarch Ravvenblaq, but Leon stepped into my path.

“You can’t run from this,” said Leon. “We’ve seen through you, and now judgment is co–” Leon disappeared. There were gasps and a few cries of shock.

[I took the liberty of putting him in time out.]

I took a fraction of a second to process the shitstorm this was about to kick up, then kept moving.

“Fuck me. Was it that easy to teleport him against his will?”

[He was unprepared and his Dimensional resistance is surprisingly low. Ah, the King’s Guard is unhappy.]

“I bet.”

The crowd parted for me in a rush. Ealdric Senior was already standing when I made it close.

“That did not seem wise, Arlo,” said Patriarch Ravvenblaq. “As entertaining as it was.”

“I apologize for the impertinence, Patriarchs, Matriarch,” I nodded to Ealdric, Bobret, and Cera in turn. “Something has removed my party members from the Closet, and they were last seen in the lounge with the king.” Řä𝐍𝖔βΕS̈

“What?” said Sineh. “Someone took Varrin?”

“Calm, child,” said Matriarch Duckgrien. “Beside tha’ king’s as safe as safe can be. Prob’ly a menace messin’ with Arlo’s ears an’ eyes.”

“It merits investigation,” said Ealdric. “Come.” The man turned and walked serenely toward the lounge. People hurried to get out of our way until we made it to the King’s Guard at the end of the hall. One of them stood blocking the corridor.

“Patriarch Ravvenblaq,” the Guard said in greeting. He was in full plate, but a pair of hard, brown eyes were visible through the visor. He didn’t bow, since bowing was a moment of vulnerability the Guard couldn’t afford while actively guarding the king. “The king has asked not to be disturbed, m’lord.”

“Where is Lord Director Bluewren?” asked Ealdric.

“He is still investigating the irregularity in Master Xor’Drel’s bedroom, m’lord.”

[The lounge is empty,] Grotto thought, looping my legendary entourage into the psychic communication. [It is also devoid of all Dimensional mana.]

Ealdric peered down the hall at the door to the lounge, then looked at Cera Duckgrien. The matriarch stood as still as a statue, and Ealdric let out the slightest sigh.

“Challenge: Cliffside Arena,” said Ealdric. The guard blinked.

“M’lord, I–” the guard started, but stopped when Ealdric met the man’s eyes. The Patriarch’s face was impassive, but a wave of foreboding pressure rolled off of him. The Guard took a small step back. “Wait, m’lord, I–”

The man’s head fell from his shoulders, along with the heads of every other King’s Guard in the hall. The corpses thudded to the ground. None of them had been below Level 20, and I hadn’t seen Ealdric move.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A woman behind me screamed.

Ealdric stepped over the corpse, and Patriarch Duckgrien’s teeth ground with enough force that I could see tremors in the growing pools of blood. Matriarch Duckgrien spat on the heavily armored body as we went.

“Might be dangerous ta’ leave yer spit layin’ around,” said Bobret.

The armored–and very decapitated–Guard stirred, reaching out for his severed head.

“Ye think it was spit?” Cera replied, raising an eyebrow at her husband.

The not-quite-dead man’s armor began to sizzle where the Matriarch had spat on it. The Guard reached around toward his back, spasming and rolling as fumes spewed off him. Finally, he went still, never to move again. High Fortitude was no fucking joke.

“Fair ‘nuff,” said Bobret.

Ealdric stopped at the door, then looked at Cera Duckgrien again. Something passed silently between them, and then the door collapsed into a thousand, perfectly sliced pieces.

We looked into the empty lounge, and every surface flared with glowing runes. An incredible gust of wind formed at our backs, flowing into the room and threatening to suck us in along with it. Bobret grabbed both Sineh and me by the arm, holding us steady.

“How the fuck?” I said.

[That room is drawing in an incredible amount of Dimensional mana from the rest of the mansion. I am extracting you.]

The world stuttered, but I didn’t go anywhere. A flaming sphere had formed around the five of us.

“Sorry lad,” said Matriarch Duckgrien. “Ye won’t be goin' anywhere til we cop on to what’s occurrin’.”

On the bright side, Cera’s shield blocked the wind.

“What’s it doing, Cera?” asked Ealdric.

“Teleportin’ ev’rythin’,” she said.

“To where?”

“Fak if I know,” she said. “I can read tha runes, gimme a few seconds.”

A few seconds? There were thousands of runes, covering every surface. The ceiling had runes, the furniture had runes, the damn liquor bottles at the bar had runes. They were carved right into the glass!

“Three places,” said Cera. “Tha bottom o’ tha sea, the heart of a fakkin’ volcano, and another pocket realm like this one.”

I didn’t want to go to any of those places.

“How do we know which?” asked Ealdric.

“Tis random without a keyword,” she answered. “Before ye ask, I don’ know what it is.”

“Aye, well,” Patriarch Bobret began, “we prob’ly should go in an’ save the king.”

A chair flew down the hall and smashed into Cera’s shield. It shattered into scorched kindling that got sucked into the lounge and disappeared. Somehow, everything already inside the lounge was staying put. Probably because it was all covered in fucking runes.

[The mana draw is accelerating. The pull will continue to increase until it consumes the mansion.]

“You can’t stop it?”

[We can destroy the runes.]

“Not until after we go through,” said Ealdric. “Three of us, three potential locations.”

“I’ve not done anythin’ like this in ages,” said Bobret.

“That’s not how random works,” said Cera.

“We know, Cera,” said Bobret. “We’re not daft. It is poetic, though.”

“Arlo,” said Ealdric. “Your Eschengal portal cannot open until this evening, correct?”

“Yeah,” I said. “The only other exit available spits us out in the Littan fortress west of the Eschen Gap.”

Ealdric looked to Cera.

“We should bring ‘im with us,” said Cera. “An’ keep tha people here contained. Any one ah them could be a dissident or imposter.”

“I have marked them,” said Ealdric. “If any seek to hide, I will find them.” There was a certainty to that statement that gave me chills. “I have no reason to suspect Arlo had a hand in this, and I would prefer not to force anyone else through this portal.”

“As much as I’d prefer not to take a magma bath,” I said, “the more people going through the portal, the better chance there is that one of us ends up where everyone else was taken.”

“Could ye survive the heart of a volcano, lad?” asked Bobret.

“My Fortitude is Level 52 and I can teleport to a range of several miles without line of sight. I’d get crispy, but I’d be fine.” Although, my beard wouldn’t be.

“Ye should diversify yer stats more,” said Bobret. “That’s too high for Level 12.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Ealdric. “Whoever set this up was able to replace an entire platoon of King’s Guard with imposters and then abducted a Zenithar, the king–who is a Level 30 platinum–and four of your party members. This is not a challenge you can face, Arlo.”

“Now that ye say it like that, is it one we can face?” asked Bobret.

“I do not know,” said Ealdric. “But I will find out.”

Light pulsed across Ealdric’s body. An instant later, he was covered head to toe in black and silver armor. Every inch of it was ornately engraved, and when I focused on the weaves within, they were bursting at the seams with mana. They were so potent, reality seemed to bend and twist around the enchantments.

Your Mystical Magic skill has increased to Level 21!

A cloak unfurled at Ealdric’s back, appearing tattered and worn, but a closer look showed it to be made of a dark, oily liquid. Tears and holes continually ran down its length, then sealed themselves back up.

“Bah, fak it,” said Bobret.

Both he and Cera pulsed with light and emerged wearing their fur armor. Cera’s golden circlet hovered over her head, and Bobret’s body began to spark with electricity. The static made my hair stand on end.

“Cera, if you please,” said Ealdric. She frowned but pulled a small marble from her inventory and handed it to me. “That’s an emergency portal back to Foundation,” Ealdric explained. I looked down at the marble, seeing hundreds of runes suspended within the glass. “It will last for five minutes. Make sure everyone within this dimensional space is evacuated as soon as we leave.” He locked eyes with me. “Leon included.”

“We’ve got strong evidence he was involved with this,” I said.

“Let Guardian Lito and Dancer Myria handle him,” said Ealdric, then considered. “I know that I cannot order you to do so through the power of my office, but consider it a diplomatic gesture of goodwill.” Left unspoken was that he could order me to do so through the power of kicking my ass. Nice of him to leave that part out.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll release him into Hiwardian custody alive.”

Ealdric’s brow furrowed at the wording, but he didn’t argue.

“I’ll disable tha runes as we pass through,” Cera said, then turned to me. “Better if ye backed up a bit.”

I looked between the trio, but Cera wasn’t willing to wait. She waved a hand, and the flaming sphere shot away from the lounge with both me and Sineh inside. Patriarch Ravvenblaq’s body blurred, and he disappeared, followed by a streak of light as Bobret went in behind him. Cera created a ball of blue-white light that emitted an oppressive heat, causing the wall panels around her to begin smoking. She flew into the lounge, leaving the ball of deadly flame behind, and blinked away.

The blazing sphere floated into the lounge a second later. Its surface rippled, and beams of scorching heat blasted out, carving through the walls and furniture. Hundreds of runes were destroyed as the ball spent its energy, disrupting the complex mana weave. The gale of wind died soon after.

“Shit,” I swore, then looked at Sineh. Her face was pale as she stared into the smoldering remains of the lounge. “You alright?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“Yeah, me either.” I ran my hands through my hair. “Let’s get people out of here.”

I turned and began stepping around the corpses of the imposter King’s Guard.

“Grotto, do we know the end destination for the teleport trap in my bedroom?”

[We do not. Do you plan on activating it in a foolhardy attempt to follow after the demigod-tier Delvers who just told you to remain behind?]

“Maybe.”

[I will begin a comparative analysis between the runes in the lounge and the runes in the bedroom. I may be able to determine whether the sigil leads to a matching location.]

“You’re not going to argue against me going?”

A moment of silence passed.

[I promised that their vandalism would be met with bloodshed. For their crimes against the party, I will imprison them in a cage of blades. I will batter their minds with the terror of insanity until they throw themselves upon its razor walls. Our transgressors will strip the flesh from their own bones in their futile attempts to flee, and I will allow them to perish only once I am satisfied.]

There was none of Grotto’s typical borderline mania. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the Etja-clone golems were already constructing the prison.

Lito and Myria stood over the first corpse at the end of the hall with weapons out, their presence an invisible barrier keeping the crowd of Hiwardians behind them from coming closer. They watched me carefully, bodies coiled to spring into action. I recognized the look, but I’d never been on the receiving end of it.

Myria held up a hand, and I halted. “Care to tell us what’s happening, Arlo?”

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