Returned
(Back to present. Command center on the first level of the labyrinth.)
Rammeld was glad he'd taken time to stay fit. All this back-and-forth between his office outside the labyrinth and his command post on the first level was quite taxing on the stamina.
Granted, the large cavern was still close enough to the surface that evacuation would be relatively simple should monsters show up, but that was close from an adventurer standpoint, rather than that of an official who spent most of their time at a desk.
But the advantage of the location was everyone had to cross it to get to the rest of the first level, and from there to the lower levels.
There was a great, if subdued, hubbub in the cavern. The reports on the table in his tent told Rammeld why. More overly powerful monsters had been found, some as out of place as the Lustvine. There was also a massive proliferation of monsterized Heartvine, with a potential connected shortage of detox potions. Rammeld made a note to keep an eye on the merchants bringing goods from Cothmore City - some of them might try to mark up their prices too extensively, particularly since many of the Cothmore officials were susceptible to bribes.
Fortunately, no more undead had been found. The priests and experienced adventurers agreed that it was likely the undead in the audience room had been placed there specifically to guard the crystal, and later the core. Once the labyrinth had dungeonized, the undeads' proximity to the core would have made them extremely powerful.
So far, only one more squad of the Golrins had been found, holed up in the guest suites of the Cothmore counts' apartments. A poor choice, tactically speaking, but also disturbing in either the arrogance the Golrins had felt, or the permissions they may have been granted.
Rammeld was worried about the absence of one report: the main entrance and the two emergency access entrances were all being carefully monitored, yet no Golrin soldiers had been caught trying to sneak out and flee. Yet, running for self-preservation was a basic human instinct, assuming nothing stronger was in place. The lack of escapees spoke to some combination of excessive loyalty, fanaticism, or brainwashing. Judging from the one Golrin's reaction so far to not receiving the contents of the bottle taken from him, addiction might play a role.
A disturbing addiction, according to the report. Even completely detoxified by the healers, the young man continued to beg for just one sip, just a few drops.
Through the open door of the tent, he could hear the loud complaining of an adventurer, one of the Sapphires if he recognized the voice correctly, who thankfully still seemed to be complying with the ID checks. Basic reasoning figured Golrin or Cothmore agents may well be hiding among the local personnel and adventurers, so everyone entering or leaving, including officials and the royal guards, had to show their cards or papers. Anol had helpfully given the names of suspected personnel, as well as rumors within the extended family about the direct heirs and weird experiments.
Elis had taken in hand the Cothmore guards stationed on site at the labyrinth. Rammeld suspected they were having an interesting time.
"My lord!" One of the royal guard -Warren, Rammeld thought his name was- entered and bowed.
"Squad four has returned from patrol. They've found the two who went to stop the crystal."
Rammeld quickly stood up, nearly knocking over the camp table serving him as a desk. Darn it, he'd already sent over the request for the Cothmore maps via the guild's field communications. Well, he'd deal with that later. "Are they at the healers' tent?"
"Yes, sir."
A few minutes later, Rammeld entered the healers' tent, quickly stepping to the side to be out of the way of anyone coming in behind him.
The tent had been primarily erected for the privacy of patients. To the left of the tent entrance, a man Rammeld believed he recognized as Elmerin lay on a cot, left arm over his eyes. Rammeld was surprised at his height; the cot was barely long enough for him. To the right, a beautiful blond woman sat on another cot; Drysia, from her picture. She looked angry.
One of the priests, a traveller serving Rozana of Light by her stole pattern, was asking Elmerin how he felt; from the pale, waxy, almost greenish look of Elmerin's skin, RammeId understood her concern. Elmerin, on his part, was ignoring her.
The other healer present, his stole similar to the first priest's, wasn't having much better luck with Drysia. A few terse "I'm fine" replies were all she gave.
"Here we are!" A large but not overly plush man entered the tent. His stole marked him as a priest of the harvest goddess Ryvra of Light, exemplified by the tray with two large bowls of soup and plates of bread and butter.
Blue-tinted butter. From Taler cattle. The heroes were getting the fancy treatment.
"Quit bothering them and let them eat," the priest of Ryvra scolded the healers. "I expect they haven't had a decent meal since they set out."
As Drysia's meal was set on a small crate-turned-table beside her cot, Rammeld glanced over at Elmerin as he sat up -and started.
In full view, Elmerin looked almost exactly like the portrait of Silver of Geler handed down from Rammeld's grandfather. Some red hair dye or a hair-coloring spell and a bit more muscle in Elmerin's arms and chest would make them twins.
And the eyes. Rammeld remembered his grandfather telling again and again how he told the painter that the eyes in the painting must be the same shade of green as Silver's, and how the painter had finally managed to mix the correct brilliant shade.
Elmerin's eyes were the same green as the eyes of the painting.
Rammeld was convinced; Elmerin was a descendant of Silver of Geler. Either the man had had a secret lover, or he'd survived his last battle and started a family.
Elmerin had noticed Rammeld staring and raised an eyebrow.
"My apologies." Rammeld bowed. "I am Sir Philip Rammeld, Minister of Labyrinths for the Korrum kingdom. I was thinking the mission was clearly hard on you, somehow more than Drysia."
"I wasn't the one throwing around two Purify spells," Drysia snapped. Pausing to swallow, she added, "This idiot drained his mana completely dry, dealing with that crystal while insisting on using magic all over the place. Was too out of it to help much, the deadweight."
Elmerin lowered his bowl to glare at her. "Before you start asking a bunch of questions, here's a report." He flicked a few sheets of paper onto the cot. "We found one of Cothmore's private hidey holes, so I took advantage of the safety to throw a few words down."
"Interesting." Rammeld walked over and picked up the sheets. "You had quite a couple of days, I expect." He flipped through, scanning them, finding their contents mostly matched the suppositions of Alexander and the priests.
Then one line, the first in a paragraph: The discovery of a Lustvine derivative potion. Found in a place definitively connected to the Cothmores.
Well, well. "You really have had quite the time."
"Has anyone run into the Lustvines yet?"
Rammeld noticed Drysia paying close attention.
"The Epic Storms and Daylight's Advent parties finished off the females and the male. Who thankfully was still at Sapphire and not mobile yet. The parties found the dead Golrin members -the Red Dragon men- and Drysia's sword as well."
"Golrin?" Drysia wrinkled her nose. "My sword was covered in goo and plant guts and about to break. Washing the goop off El and everything but the sword and using it to bait the vines was the best move I could think of in the moment."
"Don't call me El," Elmerin muttered, lying back down with his arm over his eyes again.
Apparently he'd been affected by the Lustvine mucus. Rammeld was sympathetic; no adventurer liked dealing with that. Any answers could wait for when he privately questioned the two.
"Get some sleep then. We'll get reports from you later." Rammeld waited for just a beat. "Ah, just one thing, not related to this. I'm curious who your parents are, Elmerin? They must be proud of you."
Elmerin didn't move. "I don't know. I'm an orphan. My hometown raised me. I was too young to remember them."
This was true, though not for the reasons Rammeld, hopefully, thought it was true.
"Thank you." As Rammeld left the tent, he was confused. No idea of his parents' identity at all? Such hadn't been heard of since the Demon Wars. Ever since the Summoned and the Esteemed Meinz had made the four guilds' systems for communication and information, and the kingdoms and temples had tried to imitate them, everyone had been able to get some kind of identity paper or card by the time they were an adult. Even someone like Drysia would have had something issued by the headman or priest of Tow.
Maybe Elmerin just hadn't asked? Rammeld had heard some orphans reacted that way, though he didn't get why. Wouldn't you want to know about your family?
He sighed and shrugged. Nothing he could do at the moment. But it was an intriguing mystery.
*******
Rammeld was going to be trouble. The green-eyed adventurer could smell it.
Intelligent authority combined with nosiness was always a problem. When aimed at things Elmerin absolutely needed to keep secret, it was a serious problem.
He'd have to pay a visit to the adventurers' guild when he got back to Cothmore. If he sent them a letter, the Edwards could head Rammeld off and possibly steer him to useful activities... he'd better write that down… when he wasn't so tired…
About an hour later, he jerked awake from a particularly vivid dream. He realized he'd heard the name RammeId before.
Drysia was asleep on her cot, as was the priest assigned to watch over them on his. There was some traffic outside the tent, but presumably everyone was being kept out to let him and Drysia rest.
Here. Elmerin pulled out the relevant journal and flipped through it.
Crap. Silver of Geler had known the Rammelds then. The patriarch at the time had pressured Silver to have a portrait done before heading out to kill some monsters plaguing the family head's estate -he'd had an obsessive interest in collecting images of attractive people. The head hadn't been particularly worried about his people, though.
The current Rammeld's look had been one of surprised recognition. Had that bastard elder had that painting made anyway? He was the kind who was always handling problems by throwing money at them. The average noble housing in Korrum tended to have a lot of hidey holes and ways to spy, over and above the servants' passages. Korrum nobles had long been a suspicious and paranoid bunch.
Elmerin began writing in one of his journals. He'd have to find a way to destroy or gain possession of the painting. Otherwise, it would stand as potential evidence for something he really did not want questions about.
Adventurers tended to mind their own business as long as you could pull your weight. Politicians and nobility, much less so. They got particularly nosy around hidden truths.
A murmur as the priest turned over in his sleep had Elmerin dropping both journals back into the item box. He'd sort it out later. For now, he had to get past the debriefing, and the local temple's upcoming fit about his use of 'divine' magic.
********
People mentioned in this chapter:
Elmerin
Drysia
Elis
Rammeld
Royal Guard Torren (misidentified by Rammeld as 'Warren')
Priest of Ryvra (food provider)
Priest of Rozana (healer)
Priestess of Rozana (healer)
Deities mentioned:
Rozana of Light: the goddess that governs magical healing. Her authority is not the same as Dhemas, who governs non-magical recovery from illnesses and injury.
Ryvra of Light: Goddess of fertile lands and the harvest. Her priests are often in charge of distribution of charity to the poor. A miserly heart does not survive long in her order.
Animals mentioned:
Taler cattle: Talers are a breed known for their milk. The milk is tinted various shades of blue, depending on diet, and any products made from it are incredibly tasty. They usually come in black or yellow, and have thin armor on their backs, necks, and heads made from hardened hair.
They are on the weak side as cattle go (though they can still easily crush a careless human), are not much use for field work or hauling wagons, breed slowly, and are prone to monsterization due to magic overload. They are not popular with farmers and others. Wealthy people keep them both as status symbols and because the milk and its products sell very well.
As monsters, they become incredibly strong, while milk production drops to nothing. They need to be killed while still at Zircon or Topaz level; at Ruby level and higher, they start to develop thick armor that quickly covers them and becomes almost impossible to penetrate.