Raucous laughter filled the night sky. Sarabella watched with disapproval as she saw Jon tip back drink after drink. He was so drunk, he was pouring more of it on his mouth than in it. He was impressive, sure. But the task given to him was so monumental, Sarabella could only worry whenever he wasn't dedicated to the task.
Jon was very old though. To have suddenly been given a young body again, she supposed he must need to let loose a little. But it couldn't happen again. Sarabella wondered what she should prepare to… discipline Jon that would be the appropriate stick to prod him.
Jon stood up, wobbly and laughing. He saw Sarabella, and started to stumble toward her.
"Ugh. What terrible luck. What now?" She said to herself.
"Hey! Hey! Wench! Hahahahaha!" Rudely yelled at Sarabella, though she was definitely close enough. The heavy scent of wine was overpowering.
As Jon stopped in front of her, he swayed back and forth. Taking deep breaths, he couldn't stop a giggle from coming out.
"Sara. Sara. Hey. I… I need a merchant. As soon as possible." Jon said, slurring his words.
"What has that got to do with me, sire?" Sarabella said, her mask perfect in every way. It was something of a pleasure to her, to be able to act so different on the outside than what was going on inside.
"I know you have ways. You're… You're… You know what you are. I need a merchant. If it helps me, it helps you too, you know? Hahahaha" Jon broke into a drunken incomprehensible laugh, looking like a fool. Sarabella had to admit, this was true though. She saw how quickly he had accumulated wealth today, and he would need a way to use it.
"Okay, I'll call for one."
Jon surprised her by grabbing her shoulders then. It was unpleasant, and she rolled her eyes.
"As soon as possible, okay? It's gotta come as soon as possible." Jon let go, stumbling forward and brushing against Sarabella's clothes. Sarabella sighed, and helped Jon get back to his room. He slumped into bed, and was snoring loudly soon after.
Sarabella, realizing the whole village was either sleeping or drunk, realized this was the perfect time to slip out of the village. Putting on a dark cloak, she left for the Smoldering Forest through a small hole in the village wall. So many parts of the wall were in disrepair, no one would notice this. Hiding a small lamp in her cloak, she made her way to the forest, not realizing a silent figure followed after her.
Jon chuckled to himself as he followed Sarabella. No one thought of him as sneaky, but it was one of the things he was most proud of. You didn't explore the deepest regions of a dungeon without having light feet. Everyone was always praising him for his strength, determination and quick thinking. No one ever thought about the necessity of stealth. All he had to do was change out of his clothes, wipe himself down, and follow her as she slowly made her way through the village.
It was even easier than normal as she got further away from lights of the village. An illuminating glow leaked out from her cloak. She couldn't see around her because the light blinded her night vision, and though Jon could not identify her, he could just follow that light.
After a while, Sarabella arrived at a small encampment. A thatch hut was there, its back resting on some trees. She knocked on the door, quietly at first, then loudly a few times for good measure. Then she began a strange bird call. The door opened, and Sarabella was quickly ushered inside. Jon crept up to the thatch hut, glad it was so hastily built. It'd be easy to hear what the conversation inside would be, with gaps everywhere.
"-woke me up for this? Why the heck would he need a merchant? He should be focusing on forming his kingdom!" A man's voice said, clearly annoyed.
"He killed a mountain of giant rats in the dungeon today. He's got a crazy amount of mana bones, but nothing he can do with it. He held a feast with the leftover meat for the village, and already everybody loves him. There's barely anything else he needs to do other than get the village chiefs together.
You know it'll take a while for a merchant to get here. We might as well send out for one."
"He had a feast? Did you bring us anything?" Another man's voice sounded hopeful. Sarabella could only scoff.
"No."
"Tsk. Fine, I'll send a bird to Moon Heron. She can make the trip. Any particular about the merchant?"
"No, he wasn't very specific. I think any decently rich merchant will do."
"Okay. Is there anything else?"
"Not really."
When Sarabella returned to the inn, she checked on Jon again. He had somehow thrown his wet, smelly clothing all over the room, and was snoring loudly.
------
Jon woke up feeling very refreshed the next morning. He had gotten one up on the Unseen, and they'd never seen it coming. If possible, he'd have to go back very soon, to see what else he could get. If they were good at tracking, they might notice that someone other than Sarabella had been in the area that night.
Ideally, he could steal their money. In the end, everything depended on money, even espionage run by fanatics. Paying people off opened so many doors when you needed to steal secrets or pretend to be someone. If Jon could deny them their money, cracks in their operation would form. It would cause their plots to be revealed just a little bit more.
Another interesting thing to note was that they used birds to contact each other. He'd have to find their cages, and destroy their means of communication. See what would happen to them. He doubted he could completely uproot them, but maybe he could weaken them enough that they'd stop being a knife at his throat. Jon knew he'd enjoy having his first little taste of retribution then…
As he left his room, Sarabella popped out in front of him.
"GOOD MORNING!"
"Ahhh! Shut up! Shhh! Shhh!" Jon pretended to have a hangover, and made sure to hide his eyes.
"You shouldn't drink so much. It's not very kingly." Sarabella scolded, delight in her eyes.
"I don't need your lectures. I'm not a king." Jon retorted.
"But you will be."
"Whatever. I'm going to the river to relax, and get away from you."
"Excuse me?" Sarabella asked. "You're supposed to be working on making a kingdom right now. Need I send you a little… reminder… of what will happen if you don't?" Sarabella was a little incensed. She gave him an inch, and he wanted to take a mile!
"What do you want me to do? Go to the dungeon while I'm hung over and get myself killed? Or talk to the villagers when every sound sets me off? Leave me be. I've done enough for now."
"At least go say bye to Davius. He's just about ready to leave to go talk to the other village heads."
"Fine. Oh, can you get a merchant to come to Four Leaf as soon as you can? I need to hire him to make contacts in the Tulin Empire. There's simply not enough people and services that I need here." Jon feigned ignorance of what happened last night, to reinforce the idea he'd been drunk.
"Okay, sure!" Sarabella turned into her cheerful alter ego, and went into his room to tidy it.
Jon slowly trudged down the stairs, hoping he could fool her a little longer. Once he made it outside though, he saw a covered wagons being loaded up, and Davius going about organizing them and making sure nothing was being forgotten. As Jon went up to Davius, he heard the tittering of the girls seated in the wagons. They were waiting to go back to their home villages, and were gossiping among themselves. Since being in town yesterday, all they could talk about was the new kingdom and the handsome King Jon that had saved them. Their salvation was like a dream, and quite a few of them acted brazenly, hooting and whistling at their hero.
"Good morning, Davius."
"Morning? It's just become noon. I saw you stayed out quite late last night. Did you have a good time?"
"Haha, better than I'm having now. Are those Reek's horses?" Jon inquired. He deflected the topic away from his celebrations last night and the fool he made of himself. The sooner people forgot about it, the better.
"They were. There were only a few horses in the village originally, and we have a lot of people to bring. I hope you don't mind." Davius responded. He was used to making most of the decisions for the village, but now he realized he may have overstepped. He started to feel nervous about his hasty decision.
"No no. That's fine." Jon reassured him. It'd be more of a problem if Davius began to require his approval for every little thing. Not only would that take too much of his time, it would definitely drive Jon crazy. "Is there still a horse I can use though?"
"Yes, the horse you were riding before is in the horse shelter behind the tavern."
"Thanks. I won't need it today, but in case anything happens, it's good to have."
As Jon walked away, he looked at who was driving the wagons, and saw Alf and Barry looking in every direction but at him. Laughing to himself, he figured that with all the complaining Alf and Barry had done yesterday while working, they would take any excuse to be away. Jon was sure that the wagonfuls of pretty women didn't hurt, either.
On his way out the village, Jon popped by the butcher's shop, and found Pat hard at work, drying and curing the meats from yesterday.
"Need anything, Pat?"
"I could use more salt. A lot more. Just drying the rest of this meat will take ages, and I've already used what I have curing what I can. There's a decent chance a lot of this will spoil."
"Sell what you can for me then. Cheaply. Use the money to build more drying racks. Tomorrow, I'm going back to the dungeon." Jon said cheerily. Pat paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. Yesterday was a hellish experience for him, and today was going to be little different. But he had to admit, a good thing was happening for this village, and he couldn't speak against that.
"Hey, before you go. Just take a bit of advice from an old man like me." Everyone had become more relaxed around Jon after the night of drinking. Jon was glad people were being candid, though he wasn't sure he was going to like what he was about to hear. Pat was probably in his late thirties, and much much younger than Jon actually was.
"You need to dial back a bit on the drink. You're just a wee lad, there's no shame in not being able to hold your drink. There will be a time wh-"
Jon turned around and left the butcher's shop, not responding to Pat. He definitely didn't like what he heard.
Once Jon was outside the village, he went back to the Smoldering Forest. Slowly tracing his steps, he found his tracks and did what he could to erase them. A seasoned tracker would still find them, but couldn't tell anything important from them. The next rain would wash it away.
As he was finishing, his final traces were by the Unseen base. In the sunlight, he could finally get a good look at the place. The thatched hut was indicative of their intention to stay there for years. There were gaps here and there in the walls, but otherwise it was well-made. A simple fire pit in a clearing in front of the hut, a stack of firewood lined up against the hut, a couple of rain barrels and a drying rack were the only other things there. It was a simple camp, clearly for function than comfort or aesthetics.
Hearing cooing noises, Jon guessed that the birds that were mentioned yesterday were pigeons being reared inside the hut. Those courier birds must be very important if these two were willing to live with them. The place would quickly smell unless they cleaned the cages very very often.
Jon wondered as he stared at the hut. "Should I take care of this now? Or later? Decisions, decisions…"
------
It was a beautiful day in Palzo, a large city in the Tulin Empire. As the capital city of the Jerafi Province, it enjoyed prestige and prosperity. In a rich, lavish manor, maids were busily going about preparing an extravagant lunch meal.
"Sir Crucius, it has been too long!" A fat man in silk robes walked into the dining room, arms wide and welcoming. But as he saw his lunch companion brooding in the corner, he dropped his arms and his tone became concerned. "Ahhh… Still waiting on the Rykans to do something?"
"No, Falcar." Crucius responded in a flat tone. "I suspect they know the truth by now. The price has been paid, my plot is foiled and I have nothing to show for it." Crucius swirled a goblet of wine, staring out the window wistfully.
"Ahh, but the hope of the Ryka Kingdom is dead, no? That kingdom will return to obscurity, soon enough. Before the Mithril Knight came along, they were just another frontier kingdom that had their towns and cities ravaged by monsters every other year. Now that Prince Caiphus is dead, who can replace the Mithril Knight?" Falcar didn't feel too confident about his words. He was a travelling advisor for the Empire, and often had to relearn the politics and power struggles of an area from scratch. However, it hadn't been too long since he'd been away. 15 years at most. But he knew that Crucius was prone to bouts of melodramatics, and managing his mood was most important when it came to getting anything done. Crucius was a wise and capable leader, but it was a little silly how emotional he could still be after the many lifetimes he had lived.
"Perhaps the Mithril Knight won't be replaced. I heard that he's been brought into their 'Royal Sanctum' to train new prospects. Given time, perhaps they'll convince him to join their fold. Or fool him into living another lifetime. It's very possible my plan has backfired in the worst possible way."
"The Mithril Knight, young again?! Seriously? I thought he and the Rykan royalty were irreconcilable. This… This may require more attention from the higher-ups." Falcar started to mumble to himself. The implications of this situation could be disastrous.
Crucius stood up suddenly and threw his goblet to the stone floor, smashing it into pieces and wine splattered everywhere. "NOW? Now they might take notice?! The Ryka kingdom has a deeper dungeon than we've ever thought possible! We've never been able to go past the 17th floor in any of our dungeons! The average Rykan dungeon depth is on par with the best in the whole empire! And the Empire doesn't CARE?"
Breathing heavily, Crucius stared daggers at his old friend. A couple of maid servants glided into the room, cleaning up the mess and handing Crucius a new goblet of wine. They acted quite unperturbed by the outburst, but that was unsurprising. They were deaf mutes, like all the servants of nobility in the Empire. Trained by the central cities of the empire, they did their jobs quickly, efficiently and as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"Crucius, Crucius. Come now. You get the same reports on the Empire as I do. You know how the Empire has been planning their path to supremacy. There's many things to do, and not enough time to do it. And the Empire doesn't act unless the situation is clear, but you know as well as I that the secrets of the Rykan Immortalis are too many. It would set back the Empire at least a hundred years if we waged war on Ryka, and probably much more than that. We're already struggling to hold onto the lands we hold now. How could we take and hold those Rykan dungeons?"
"Their Royal Dungeon is twenty floors deep! TWENTY! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"Yes, I crave the secrets of a dungeon like that too. If the reports are reliable…" Falcar was always a skeptical man, even before he became an Immortalis. It was hard to believe this small country had surpassed his Empire in anything, even though there were many indications of it.
"I believe them. The Mithril Knight was too great of a boon to not have made some progress. If he had been born in our Empire, how great he would have been? The Empire's strength as a whole could have been a tier higher by now." Crucius had a fanatical look on his face. For too many nights he had dreamed of dominion over the Ryka Kingdom. If he had successfully stoked a war between the Yari and the Rykans, perhaps another lifetime from now, Rykos would be ripe for the picking.
"You need not be so impatient, my friend. With Prince Caiphus dead, I'm sure Ryka will decline, while the Empire grows stronger every century! We'll have it all, one day. Mark my words."