Overpowered Pawn - 5 - A Risky Twist

The poison rushed through his blood, the metallic taste stinging his mouth.

He knew almost instantly what it was, and it was his very first guess. Blue Nightshade. A classic torture device, often used by the Borgans and the Underworld Brotherhood to extract information from spies and enemy knights.

Magically, it wasn’t that sophisticated. It came from the lowest of di terrestres sources, so it was barely even magic. But that only meant that it would wreck him physically rather than spiritually. 

So... that's a relief, I guess.

The thought was cut short as the effect was instantaneous. 

Pain instantly rushed through his body so much so that his vision blurred and his stomach roiled. It was like ant bites on his nerves, razor-sharp stinging that made his hands shake. 

“Urgh!” Nausea crested and almost had him throwing up, but he steeled himself with his fingers gripping the edge of the table. Someone laughed and dragged up a chair, and Arthur made himself sit so he wouldn't collapse on the floor. His fingers gripped the table so hard that the splinters pierced into his palm. That was what he needed to ground him.

It was a trick he’d learned in captivity, how to use pain to cancel out pain. They would force-feed him things that would drive him to delirium, and the only way he could fight to remember where he was, who he was, was to combat with another pain from another outside source, one he could control. 

Focus, Arthur. He told himself, as he made the splinters dig in deeper. The voice in his head was his older voice, deeper than it was now. Focus.

He met the amused eyes of Toby McIntyre, who also held an air of expectation. He was eager to either watch Arthur suffer or work his way out of his predicament, and the man had no preference because he would enjoy himself either way. 

Arthur knew Toby wasn’t trying to kill him, not just because Toby implied it, but also because Blue Nightshade most likely wouldn’t kill him. Toby simply wanted to teach him a lesson and perhaps have a little fun at his expense.

It was insulting and humiliating, but the situation wasn’t threatening, at least not yet. They saw him as a small fry who was in over his head. He needed to prove to them that he was useful. 

He was a herbology expert. 

What did he know about Nightshades?

Their essence was a combination of three major sources–nyx, febris, faunus, and maybe traces of Cybele combined, all down from the core of Minerva. However, it had only the barest traits of pluto, which meant it would take a very long time to kill someone. Its entire point was to cause pain and fever.

So the antidote was simple. Or it would have been simple if he didn't have to deal with excruciating pain, but he would block that out for now. 

The medicine needed a core of Minerva by order of four, at least. His vitality potion would suffice.

But he also needed to subdue the mercurian component of the vitality potion, or it would react with the active reagents of the poison he’d taken and worsen the effect. Then he needed to add medicinal herbs powerful enough to counteract a Nyx, Febris, and Faunus combined. Obviously, an element of Apollo was necessary, and lucky for him, he had all he needed in his trusty knapsack.

He believed Nightshades were gotten from the Cybellian region. He’d need attisian mushrooms to counter. Porsepina was a crown pair that would cancel out the slight Plutonian. Finally, he needed something to dull the pain.  

His gaze swept frantically over the table. One of them was drinking wine. Bachus. Perfect.  

He grabbed the wine and dragged it to himself. He poured most of it out until only a single gulp was left, earning laughter and a loud protest from the wine's former owner.

His hands shook as he took out the herbs from his knapsack, sorting through the ones that would work and the ones that wouldn’t. He mentally calculated dosages, even as his vision swam.

He held out his hand. “Dagger,” he gasped.

Someone chuckled and handed it to him.

He continued the quick arithmetics in his head, using the dagger to slice through the proper amount of herbs and grind them into a paste. He tasted and nodded. Then he put them into the wine, mixing it with his finger. Tasted again.

He then grabbed the empty vial of poison, shaking a single drop clinging to the bottom into the wine.

Now he needed to get it into his bloodstream the fastest way possible.

Arthur took the dagger and sliced a semi-deep cut into his arm, pouring the wine onto it. It hissed as it made contact, and he bit his lip. 

Almost immediately, the shaking subsided. The fog of pain receded from his mind, allowing him to think again, and he finally released a shaky breath, meeting the bright-eyed gaze of Toby, who was smiling. 

In fact, all the men who had now surrounded him broke into thunderous applause when his seizures subsided, and his breath steadied.

One of them handed him a dirty cloth to press against the wound, but Arthur denied it, using a clean strip of his shirt instead.

“Impressive,” Toby said, and the other men looked both impressed and disappointed that their fun didn't last longer. “I’ll definitely have a use for you in the future.”

Arthur’s heart caught. He could hear the implied ‘but’ there.

Toby shrugged almost regretfully. “Unfortunately, like I said, we’re at max capacity for this dungeon run.”

“I passed your test.”

“I know. I was very impressed,” he smiled. “Next year, you can go. We do, in fact, already have a full-fledged Healer on our team, who is there to settle a debt. Most of the people going on the run today, those who aren't necessary, paid me a handsome sum and effusively kissed my ass for months for the honor. I don't think you can match that in such a short time.” 

Arthur's lips pressed tight, the bitter taste of defeat mixing with the poison still on his tongue. All that for nothing. They were so smug about it, too, from the looks they were giving him. Big Toothless went back to sharpening his sword and winked at him. 

“No hard feelings,” Toby said. “I do like you, and so I can pay you handsomely to make a few things for me."

“That won’t work for me.” The last thing he wanted was to work for a mercurial criminal like Toby McIntyre. 

Toby didn't appear offended. "Then I guess our business is done."

Not quite.

Arthur had a moment of hesitation where he deeply considered the implications of what he was about to do. He had no choice.

He just sighed. 

He opened the pouch and took out a powder box from it. It was his mother’s, one of the last vestiges of wealth she had left. The powder in it had long finished, and sometimes he could see her staring at it longingly because it was a gift that his father had given her. 

It made him angry to see her treasure such a thing, so he took it. That had been years ago, and he’d meant to return it at some point but never got around to it. 

Today, he had a different use for it. 

He opened it and blew the white dust into the air. 

The powder dispersed quickly, the particles floating around the room, expanding before disappearing. A few people around the round table coughed. One of them sneezed. 

“What the heck was that?” the dark-lipped man seated to the left of Toby asked. 

“That was a powdered Vonega,” Arthur responded. “Straight from the Nogus Desserts itself. A slow-acting poison that will slowly eat at you, causing headaches, leprosy, and stomach incontinence until you eventually die in a few days. No known cure. I just infected everyone in this room with it.”

The silence was tight and so complete that one could hear the barest pin drip. 

They all looked at each other incredulously, and he could see the question in their face. Is he serious?

“Yes, I’m serious,” Arthur said quite seriously. "We’ll all die within the next few days. Some of you within the next day or so, depending on your tolerance level. There was no known cure, but the Headmaster and I completed an experimental one right before his death. Unfortunately, the ingredients of such a cure can only be found in a faraway land that will take months for you to reach. The only other source of those herbs is the Farmer level of the Pawn Dungeon.” At least according to Arthur’s father’s journals. “So you see, it would be in your best interest to let me in that dungeon. Tonight.”

Sudden sound exploded over the room.

“Are you fucking mad?” One of the men snatched him by the collar. 

“I’m going to kill you, you son of a rat bastard!” Another reached for his cloak, trying to tug him out of the first one's hold. “I knew you would pull some shit the second you got in here.”

“I say we kill him now!” Yet another hand pulled him, and Arthur was starting to get dizzy from being used as a rope in tug of war. 

“Did you poison yourself?” That came from Alan, who looked stunned, like he wanted to check if Arthur was addled, but also wanted to beat him to a pulp.

“Yes," Arthur finally said. “If I don’t make the cure, I’ll die too. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“No one gives a shit about your risk,” the first man snarled. “What about us? Why do we have to die?”

“I don’t plan on anyone here dying,” he said. “We should be out of the dungeon in a few hours. Then you’ll have your cure.”

“Some people don’t make it outta the dungeon at all!”

“Well, then I suggest you try your very best to make sure I do.”

"Oh, you little–!"

“Enough, Sven.” 

Toby’s words were enough to silence the entire room. The leader stared at Arthur with glittering eyes and laced his fingers together. Hatred and anger pulsed off him. He had been tricked, and he was a man who very much didn’t like being tricked. 

“You’ve made an attempt on my life,” he said calmly. “I’ve killed men for less.”

“Death doesn’t scare me,” Arthur said. 

Toby grinned, but it lacked any trace of humor from his earlier smiles. His eyes were deadly cold, searing to his soul. “You get your wish. You can go on that dungeon run. But no matter what happens there or after, I won’t forget what you did today.” 

“I understand,” Arthur said. 

Toby still looked like he wanted to strangle him, but somewhere hidden behind all that murderous rage, there was a slight tendril of respect, too, as grudging as it was. 

Arthur didn’t delude himself into thinking that respect would protect him. No matter what, the second he got out of that dungeon, he was a wanted man, and Toby would do his best to kill him.

Arthur had made a deadly enemy for life. He just hoped that the man had enough honor left not to go after his family.  

“I think it goes without saying that you won’t touch my family while I’m gone,” Arthur said. “Nothing can happen to them, or you don’t get your cure.”

“If I don't get the cure, you die.”

“Like I said, I’m not afraid of death. We can all die together then.”

Toby's cheekbones clenched as he ground his teeth. Arthur knew that he’d just made whatever punishment Toby was plotting much worse.  

That was a problem he planned on dealing with after he got out. If he got out.

No. Don't think like that. You will get out.

He’d read everything from his father’s notes and made plans. He knew the challenges of the dungeon, and he knew how to overcome them. Moreover, he’d been in a gruesome war for a decade and survived. 

He would survive this, too. 

Toby gestured with his finger to the first guy, Sven, who looked infuriated as he leaned in for his boss to whisper in his ear. Pretty soon, the side of his lip kicked up in a small smile, and Arthur was immediately on alert. 

“Fine,” Toby said. “We’ll be leaving in two minutes. Now get out of my sight, the two of you.”

Arthur didn’t have to be told twice. He stood and walked out of the room and out of the tavern, hearing Alan coming up behind him briskly. 

“Now listen here, boy–”

“You won’t die,” Arthur immediately spun around, stepping close to whisper, “I slipped you the cure before we entered the room. It will act as a vaccine, so...you should be fine. As a matter of fact, that poison will never work on you, ever."

Alan’s bushy grey eyebrows furrowed. “You and the headmaster made a vaccine for Vonega?”

“Yes.” Arthur had actually done most of the work under the headmaster's supervision. It was one of his first research projects when he’d returned to the past. It was something that would earn him a lot of money in the future once he had enough to patent and sell them. Unfortunately, the vaccine had been expensive to research and produce, and he’d only perfected one dose of it, which he’d given to Alan. 

“I slipped it in your drink before we went in,” Arthur explained. “You’ll suffer some of the symptoms, but they’ll be milder and you won’t die from it. In return for that favor, I want you to keep my family safe. Make sure McIntyre doesn’t touch them.  If anything happens to me, if I don’t make it out of that dungeon, do everything in your power to ensure that my brother doesn’t join the draft and my sister doesn’t marry a man named Earl Olgerson eight years from now. Also, please keep Sage out of prison."

“What are you talking about?” His eyes widened. “What draft? Who is Olgerson? And how on earth did you make that vaccine?"

“I can’t explain. Just trust me. Mobilize whoever and whatever you can to protect my family.”

"Arthur, I do not understand–"

“You.” 

They broke apart at the sound of the new voice and looked to find Sven staring at him from the doorway.

“Let’s go.”

“I’m coming," Arthur responded, but Sven wasn't listening. He and two other men were already heading down the walkway to their destination.

Alan shook his head, staring at Arthur like he’d never seen him before. “This is a crazy game you’re playing.”

“I know. Don’t tell my mother.” Those were the last words before Arthur followed the rest of the men into the night, without looking over his shoulder. 

Arthur could feel their rage in the silence as they walked, their indignation, their desire to strike him down where he stood. He paid no attention to them. 

They wouldn’t kill him now. He was almost sure of it. They would need him in the dungeon. But once they were in there, that was another ballgame. 

There were ways to keep someone alive, just on the edge of death for days on end, enough so they were lucid and cognizant of how much pain they were in, but not enough to do anything about it. 

That had been done to him several times.

Arthur flexed his fingers reflexively. Sometimes he still felt the phantom burning in them or felt like they were numb. It wasn't reality, simply his mind betraying him, sending him back into that hell.  He flexed it periodically to assure himself they were still there. He was still here. 

They trekked into the forest, opposite a ravine that occasionally sang with crickets in the night. The dungeon wasn’t hidden necessarily, simply obfuscated by a thick layer of trees. It appeared to be an inconspicuous cave at first until you got close. Then you realize how much it glowed. When they got there, people were waiting around the dungeon.

“Finally,” A dark-haired man stepped forward and gestured to him. “Who’s this?”

“New addition,” Sven spat the words out with a glare at Arthur, which he ignored, despite the apprehension lying on his chest.

Arthur took in the rest of the motley crew. 

It was a mix of obvious thugs, people with desperation on their faces, and a little boy who seemed entirely out of place. He also looked very familiar. 

Sven pointed to one of the desperate-looking ones. “You, you’re out.”

He gaped. “What? I paid to be here!”

“The boss will refund your money. Unfortunately, you didn’t make the cut.”

“That’s not fair! I've made plans for this. You can’t do that.”

He tried to advance to Sven and soon found a sword at his throat.

“I can do whatever I damn well want to.” Sven's eyes glowed in threat. “Now back off.”

The man swallowed and stepped away from the group. 

“Everyone else, take your positions.”

Before they could, Arthur looked at the boy again, and finally, a flash of recognition hit him.

He was Iris's little brother.

Arthur had seen him a few times, coming to visit his sister in the library where Arthur tutored her, or delivering food to her. He always used to look at the books there longingly.

Iris always talked about him, too, and how he was the smartest of the brood.

"He'll probably save us all one day," she would say.

What on Earth was he doing here?

What was his name again?

"Stephen," Arthur said, and the boy's head snapped to him. He peered at Arthur as though he couldn't quite make out his features in the dark.

Arthur forgot. The boy was near-sighted, too.

Sudden rage flooded Arthur's body, and he turned to Sven.

"What is he doing here?" Arthur asked.

"You know him?"

"Yes. He's a child." He looked no more than ten years old, and he looked slightly terrified out of his mind.

"His father gave him to us to settle a debt," Sven said. "Apparently, he's quite the reader. He's got a killer memory, too. Boy remembers everything he's ever read, word for word. That should help us at the clerk level."

"Yes, but he's a child," Arthur repeated slowly, with emphasis. "He can't be here. Essences aren't given until one is at least fifteen."

"Yeah, luckily the dungeon doesn't give a shit how old he is."

"Doesn't make it less wrong.

Sven's expression darkened, and he took a step toward Arthur, teasing the sword at his neck. "Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?"

Arthur held his gaze but said nothing. The tension in the air crackled as the two stared at each other. Despite the cool metal kissing his skin, Arthur really wanted to say something, but there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do short of grabbing Stephen and running.

If he did that, even if they managed to get away, he would be dooming his family and Iris' to death.

Sven grinned. "Take your position. Now."

Arthur swallowed. He met Stephen's gaze with an apology in his eyes, which the boy probably couldn't see because he was too far away.

Everyone, including Arthur, turned around laying their hands on the dirt walls that made up the dungeon cave. So did Arthur. The brown dirt glowed even more when he touched it, exuding a heat that prickled his palms. The words flashed into his face. 

WELCOME TO THE PAWN DUNGEON. ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR TEST?

Arthur swallowed and nodded.

“Yes,” he said. 

Suddenly, everything went dark. 

***

From the Journal of Morgan Vale, Baron of Porthandy, Great Knight Supreme, The King’s Hand.

A few decades before my arrival, a host of mage researchers found a way to distill the essence of the dungeons into potions. This was necessary as there came a point when dungeons were killing more people than they were awarding. 

So, led by the Archbishop Supreme Thermillion, a group of mages took elements and finally reverse-engineered the dungeon core and distilled it into potions. These potions were limited in number and given to the heads of the great and lesser houses to hand out to those whom they deemed worthy. This was done jointly on the day of the Equinox, and the event was dubbed the Choosing Ceremony. 

With these essence potions, one can go through all the tests of the dungeons and earn powers without being in any true danger. A failure of the test simply means the individual wakes up powerless, rather than them not waking up at all. However, there is debate in some scholarly circles about the effectiveness of these potions and whether they can instill true power to the same strength as a dungeon might. 

After all, it’s a universally acknowledged truth that the deadlier a dungeon, the more powerful the magic one obtains.