West Reaches fumed at her inaccurate information as well. "Ripping free should have killed it. It was so fragile! It hadn't even quickened until half of our cities were built. I don't understand how it survived."
"Well, we did our best." Taking the heat out of the topic, David moved on. "Obviously something unforeseen happened. Do you know of a way we could try again?"
"Short of joining and repeating the process, no. They seem to be moving fast and forcing engagements, which means they are using up a substantial amount of resources."
Nodding, David finished drafting orders to call back his forces for the defense of the city. "From the report, the shield wasn't as large as what he managed at the capital. Perhaps you have wounded the kingdom, at the very least, which will result in us having an edge. How is Eliza doing with her studies?"
"What did I tell you of her early years?"
Laughing, David leaned back from his work. "That I had best ensure she is never wronged. You taught her well back then, too."
"She learns faster now. I only know of one of your kin that took to the arts of violence as well as she has, and I made him my champion." The warmth in West Reaches' voice was genuine. The moment she had taken David on as her champion, she'd felt the heart of a kindred spirit for the first time in many years. "We just need to hold our ground and grind them up on my walls."
It was a strange thing. Looking at the entrance to the dungeon, Constance felt a tremor pass through him—a chill reminder of how many such places he'd been in before. Doing his best to hide it, he asked, "Are you sure it's safe? This isn't a passive dungeon."
"He's my client. I assure you, not only is he very accommodating—he also pays well." Brevity approached the entrance but stopped short to let Constance make his own mind up. When he walked forward, she matched his pace and they stepped into Travis' entrance.
The familiar, old sensation of stepping into a dungeon ran down Constance's spine. His hand tightened on his staff and he unconsciously shifted his weight, mind racing back to the preparations for a fight that had served him so well in the past. Then reality asserted itself on his mind and he realized they were blocking the path of a wagon. He stepped to the side to let them pass and gained a clear view of the main intersection on the first floor of this very strange dungeon. "My word."
Dungeons were rarely well-lit, except for extensively worked Verdant dungeons, but the open area ahead was not only illuminated well by lamps, but sunlight streamed in from several other openings.
"Hi, uh, welcome. I don't think I should thank you for making the decisions that let me deal with those other dungeons, but I guess I can thank you for doing your work efficiently."
"That was the dungeon? Err, Travis?" Constance asked.
Nodding once, Brevity performed the introductions. "Indeed. That is Sir Travis, knighthood conferred by King Stewart himself. If you speak aloud, he can hear you. Sir Travis, this is Lord Constance, the magistrate who oversaw your cases."
"It's a curious experience to meet you, sir. I must admit, after the first case I heard, I have been following all the news I could about your situation. Seeing the King ride into the city on your dragon was itself quite the event." The memory of that made the shivering worse, and Constance felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He had fought dragons before, with his party, but those days were long in his past. "I'll admit, I was skeptical about your claims at first—I still am a touch. Old habits and all that."
"Well, everything got through in time for us to deal with other dungeons. So you won't hear any complaints from us about it." Travis felt like he was walking on eggshells, even though he'd had higher-ranked people enter his dungeon before. Constance was, as Brevity had explained, a deceptively important man. He didn't have any high titles, but his word would carry as much weight—if not more so—than any noble except royalty. "I've arranged for a guided tour if you'd like?"
"That would be quite the even—" Constance's stopped dead when he saw the giant of a dragon warrior. His blood ran cold as memories rushed to the fore.
Following Constance's vision and spotting Fife, Brevity was halfway calling out to her when she saw the signs of distress. Constance was sweating, his hands were flexing, and when he took a step back from the big warrior, first-hand accounts she'd read of adventurers who had spent too long in dungeons clicked into place. She moved herself to get between him and Fife, making herself take up his full line of sight. "Constance? Sir? It's okay. You're safe."
It took Travis a moment to figure it out. He remembered Brevity mentioning that Constance was a former delver, and the way the man had been tensing up—and now entered a panic—spoke of one thing. "Brevity, help him outside." The next he sent to Fife since she was already taking steps toward the pair. "Fife, can you stop, please. Lord Constance needs some space."
Halting in her tracks, Fife tilted her head to the side. "Seen one too many dragon dungeons, I take it?" She backed up a few steps, keeping her hands away from her weapons. "What is he? I see a staff, but is he a wizard or sorcerer?"
The walls were crowding around Constance. He could feel the heat of dragon breath on the back of his neck as Brevity guided him to move. It wasn't until he felt himself free from the aura of the dungeon that he could take a full breath again.
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"Some adventurers have trouble stepping into dungeons. Been inside too long, or seen too much inside." It was another thing, like using talismans to leave a dungeon, that adventurers didn't like to talk about. Fife grunted. "It's not your fault, Trav, and it's not his either. He probably felt the dungeon-ness of this place and—"
Travis cut in on her. "We call it PTSD where I came from. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It can get triggered by experiencing things related to what caused the event in the first place. Sorry for cutting you off, but I forgot about that feeling. Only adventurers get it, right?"
"The feeling? Yeah. All these miners and stuff don't have the experience of it. Maybe they will, if they spend enough time mining here, but I don't think it will affect them the same." For the first time since she'd made her decision to throw her lot in with Travis, Fife felt impotent. She could go outside and ask the man if he needed help, but she knew that her appearance might trigger him again. "Is he doing better out there?"
Travis watched as Constance seemed to recover his composure bit by bit, with Brevity telling him he was safe and to walk with her. "I'm sorry for this." He kept his words tightly focused on Brevity.
"You're talking to him?" Constance asked when Brevity was quiet for too long. At her nod, he sighed. "It wasn't anything he could help with. Just an old delver who has spent too long in dark places."
Heart listened to the people talking in the meeting. She focused all her attention on what they were saying, but it didn't make sense. The motives didn't align correctly and she knew for a fact that they had, as her advisor had put it, other irons in the fire.
"Ahem." It wasn't Heart that cleared their voice, however, but the kobold standing to one side of the desk that belonged to the avatar of the city.
The room went quiet. Two barons and a viscount looked at the dryad in their midst with varying levels of annoyance. The kobold sitting beside her was a problem for them, though. When he spoke, she agreed. When he cleared his throat, therefore, they had to pay close attention.
"It would seem, honored sirs, that we are all at an impasse." Stephan poured on the charm but was relieved he had a steel fist inside his velvet glove. "The problem at its core is that there are many people who will not be able to profit from importing food for Polfay.
"Allow me to be blunt. You each are representatives of noble houses based in other cities. You and your families will lose money and standing by Polfay having access directly to a Verdant dungeon, even if it shares that dungeon's resources with another city. Breeze, in fact, has enough of a food surplus that even providing food for the capital to ship off for the war effort isn't significantly slowing their expansion.
"The times of bringing processed food into Polfay are over." Finishing his statement, Stephan was pleased to see the viscount at least had a calculating look on his face. Stephan's hand glided over the tablet he had before him, claws marking the wax as well as any stylus.
Heart, you should pay heed to what the viscount will say, he looks to be planning more than reacting
"You can't expect merchants to pivot their businesses so quickly!" one of the barons said. "They'll need time to shift their routes to profitable goods."
Stephan nodded in full, apparent, agreement. "Yes, and as you see in the proposal, estimates are that the people and businesses of Polfay will require months, themselves, to fully take advantage of Breeze's raw goods. Are you proposing these merchants won't be able to adjust their practices within four to six months?"
It was a jab, but a calculated one. Stephan knew each of the three men from his previous life as the umpteenth son of a noble house that reached as far as Polfay. The viscount was, in his estimation, the more ruthless of the three.
"I think," the viscount said, shaking his head a little, "our new avatar's advisor is correct in many things—we are at an impasse, but one pregnant with possibilities. Perhaps we should take this up at the next meeting tomorrow? Or would a week be a better timeframe?"
Having read Stephan's words moments before he rendered them unreadable, Heart smiled and nodded to the man. "Of course. Take all the time you need to work over the figures. A week it is."
The viscount loitered while the two barons seemed eager to avail themselves of their presence. "You put them both in a state of disarray, while practically pointing them at a solution that they seem barely able to comprehend. Might I have your name, Mr…?"
Stephan knew that there was a danger in using his full name, or even the assumed name he'd used since joining the dungeon. Hoping it wouldn't cause offense, he used a real name of a former guest of the dungeon. "Skarde," he said.
The name, clearly northern in origin, was noted and pinned to the kobold's features within the mind of the viscount. "Then I look forward to future dealings with you, Lady Heart and Mr. Skarde."
When all three were gone, Heart groaned and flopped onto the desk she sat behind. "Ugh. Why can't they say what they mean? They are all tied to those merchants."
"No, it's more than that. They control those merchants. Each of them is a representative of a much larger noble lineage in each of the feeding cities to Polfay. There are two ways to go from here, and I believe the barons will try for the former—they will ship their equipment here, buy raw foodstuffs and process them.
"The viscount, I believe, will take a better path. Watch as his merchant houses begin pivoting to providing equipment to Polfay. Equipment needed to process the flood of raw foodstuffs coming from Breeze: millstones, butchery tools, even large quantities of salt. He will also make a killing in the meantime selling finer foods.
"If none of them come up with prices low enough, we can buy the equipment ourselves from Home and sell them to the local merchants. It would be best if you don't get involved, but keep a backup plan in case any of them try to push your population too far."
Stephan had always hated this sort of cut-throat political game. He had despised his family for being a major source of it. But, now that he was working as part of an altruistic enterprise, he found himself enjoying it.
"Mister Stephan—"
"Steph is fine, please, Heart."
"Steph," Heart said, her smile growing at his insistence on a nickname, "Dungeon Travis told me you didn't like all this."
"I am appreciating it far more, now I am not part of one of those families. You know, I was sent to Northridge to insinuate myself into whatever leadership grew there, to extend the family's reach into the growing North. The misunderstanding that saw my change to being a kobold was profound and life-changing in many ways, but the few negatives of that event have quickly given way to the positive aspects—like my cousin not recognizing me."
Gasping, Heart looked at the closed door where the three men had left. "Which one?"
"Baron Brown Pants," Stephan said, a predatory grin on his face. "Damn fool will miss out on this opportunity, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Is that why you lied about your name?"
"Absolutely. Stephan wasn't the name I was born with, nor was Steph, but my family knew I used both. I hope Astrid and her pack aren't upset I borrowed one of their names."
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