Chapter Four-Hundred

___________________________________________

Earl Paulte Heindarl Bulifinor Magnamtir if'Gofnar

___________________________________________

“Is everyone ready?” he asks Jondar, not bothering with pretending the elf is the one in charge here.  The so-called Guildmaster looks out over the yard at the gathered adventurers, checking them against the guild roster.

“Not yet.  Yumik’s group is probably still sleeping, and there’s several others in the infirmary with injuries too significant to join this, but not significant enough to want to spend potions or mana on.  We could get them ready in a few minutes, but it’ll involve dipping into our reserves.”

The Earl waves his hand dismissively.  “No, that’s fine.  Penalize Yamik’s group a few ranks, then we’ll be on our way.  My son has been missing for days now, and I will have answers.”

Jondar nods grimly and makes a note on the ledger, then steps onto the balcony to address the adventurers.  “I’ve called this raid party for a simple reason: the Lord Mayor has gone missing.  The same Lord Mayor who is the son of our chief benefactor, even.  We have reason to suspect he was in the dungeon, but hasn’t emerged.  We’re going to get answers!”

The adventurers all nod, some with grim determination, many with a mercenary glint.  Raid parties promise a lot of rewards, and if they can uncover some plot against the Mayor, that’ll earn them more rewards still.  The Earl can’t fault them for that.  Most of them are only here in Fourdock because of his guild.  Why would they have any genuine attachment to the lad?

He leaves his Head Maid to watch his room as he goes with the adventurers, their large group marching as a show of force for the town, and as insurance that the Slim Chance won’t try anything.  Tensions have risen since the trophy was taken from them, but there haven’t been any outright clashes over it, though it’s been close a few times.  With almost the entire guild marching, not even the most hot-headed members would risk starting a fight with all of them.

They march to the manor in the center of town, once more as a show.  The townsfolk are aware of the missing Mayor by now, so the show of force will help ease their minds, and make it more acceptable for the Earl to take the town under his direct control.  The peasants often care more that something is being done, not caring about the details.  That he is willing to confront the dungeon will be enough to keep them calm as he consolidates his power.

Past the gates, the other delvers see the large group and quickly make themselves scarce, either fleeing the dungeon entirely, or moving deeper in the hopes of avoiding whatever is about to happen.

The Calm Seas wash over the manor yard like a tide, and the Earl himself strides to the door to pound on it.  “Dungeon!  I demand answers!”

A soft grunt and a quiet squeak answer him as the rat that speaks for the dungeon falls out of the rafters of the porch and onto a railing, as if his pounding literally knocked it loose.

“What’s going on?” it asks, looking around in confusion at the gathered adventurers.

“We have come for my son, dungeon!”

The dim-witted rodent continues to look confused, though now it focuses on the Earl himself.  “Son?”

“Yes!” he bellows, ensuring that his voice carries well beyond the territory of the dungeon.  There’d be little point in causing a scene if nobody can hear it.  “It’s been several days since I last saw my son!  And at the same time he seemed to vanish, an adventurer plummeted from the high branches of your tall tree!  I don’t think those are unrelated, dungeon!”

“Oh, that guy?  The Boss has him.  We’re trying to figure out what’s going on with him,” the rat responds, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation it's in.  “Or, we were, anyway.”

“Hand him over to me this instant!” demands the Earl, making sure to put rage and grief into his voice.

The infuriating rat shakes its head.  “We can’t.  We were waiting for him to wake up and start breathing again, but Aranya says that’s not going to happen, because he’s dead.  Which was confusing, because dead things dissipate into mana, but he hasn’t.  She’s gotten through to the Boss about how delvers are different now, but now he’s waiting for him to respawn.  Aranya says that’s not how that works, and that she’s going to give him a funeral in the cathedral, and she said she needs the body to be safe here until then.”

“Absolutely not!  You will release my son’s body right now, or I shall raze you to the ground, dungeon!”

The rat shakes its head again.  “No, we’re keeping him safe.”

“He’s dead!  Safety is beyond him now, you idiot!”

“No,” it replies again, and scurries into a shortcut as the Earl draws his sword.  With no convenient target to cut down, he storms from the porch and raises his weapon high.

“Men!”  The gathered adventurers eagerly await the order, but a new voice cuts through the air before the Earl and tell them to destroy the manor.

“You’ve never dealt with dungeons, have you?”

The sea of adventurers part, revealing an elf in simple dark leather, a badge of the Dungeoneers on his collar.  “Unless you want to reward the dungeon for whatever issue you have with it?”

The snarl in the Earl’s reply isn’t even faked.  How dare some random elf countermand him, Dungeoneer or no?  “Who are you?!”

“Tarl, Chief Inspector of Fourdock.  I’ve been investigating the lost delver.  I was going to come investigate some more, but then I heard you yelling.  If you think the dungeon killed your son, causing a ruckus will only make more mana for it.”

The Earl glares as he considers the situation.  A bit of mayhem would have been a good signal to the people of his strength, but if he does so now, he runs the risk of appearing stupid and rewarding the dungeon for killing his son.

“Fine, if the dungeon cannot pay, I will force that Aranya to give me my son’s body!”

“No you won't," the elf answers calmly, earning a genuine glare from the Earl as he continues.  “She’s a Resident, and is rarely outside of the enclaves.  Dungeons are independent, and that includes their enclaves.  If an Earl attacks a dungeon’s enclaves, that would be a declaration of war from the kingdom, and you don’t have that authority.”

Fine.  “Then what of my son?  Do I have no means to seek recompense from his murderer?!”

The elf shakes his head.  “No, you have options.  But not with the dungeon itself.  Petition the Dungeoneers to change the classification to murderous.”  He smirks and gestures at his own badge.  “And I just so happen to be a member of the Dungeoneer’s Guild.”

The annoyance he feels toward the elf shifts to something more manageable.  Greedy bureaucrats are tiresome to deal with, but are at least simple to purchase.  “You said the dungeon gets rewarded for fights in its territory?”

“They do,” he confirms.

The Earl turns to Jondar.  “Suspend all adventuring activities in this dungeon, and put a bounty on any of its creatures that venture outside.  If it is rewarded for fighting in its territory, we will bleed it from the outside until it gives me back my son.”

Jondar nods and signals for the guild to move out.  Instead of going with him, Earl Paulte approaches the Dungeoneer.  “I wish to declare this dungeon murderous.”

The Dungeoneer smiles wide and motions for the Earl to follow him out of the dungeon.  “Ah, that will take us some time.  There’s a lot of forms to get through, a lot of regulations to follow.  And with the Crown Inspector still in town, they’ll all need to be held to the highest of standards, you understand?”

He understands perfectly.  It can be done, but it won’t be cheap.  “And what would changing its classification actually accomplish?”

“Murderous dungeons are bad for business.  The usual belligerent dungeon still claims lives, but they’re all delvers.  If it’s murdering civilians, that’s a different matter.  If you could prove the dungeon kidnapped your son and dropped him to his death, that would certainly meet the standards of murderous.  And if a dungeon is murderous, it gets quarantined and locked down, expeditions wiped out on sight and none allowed to delve until the dungeon simply starves.”

Earl Paulte considers that as they walk.  Does he think he can cow the dungeon into doing what he wants?  He’s doubtful.  Not because it’s stubborn, but because it may simply be too stupid to understand when it’s being blackmailed.  It’ll be a shame to lose out on the coin the dungeon generates, but as he understands it, it’s not the only dungeon in Fourdock worth delving anymore.  And with it gone, he’ll get to continue to leverage his other businesses, instead of needing to try to pivot to producing what he needs locally.

He nods to himself, preferring to keep his current plots going than trying to change ships mid journey.  “How much will it cost to ensure the paperwork is… up to standard?”

“It’ll be a lot of overtime and hazard pay.  It’ll come out to a fortune for someone like me, but for someone like you, you probably wouldn’t even notice the price.”

“Then do it and send me an invoice.  But know your worth, little fish.  Ask too much, and I may as well go over your head to someone actually worth the price.”

The elf waves off the threat.  “Of course.  I’ll get the bill to you in a day or two.  Or to your maid, maybe.  Subtly and all that.”

The Earl smirks and walks away, feeling pleased with how things are progressing.  Destroying the manor would have been a good move for the peasants, but this will work out at least as well.  He’ll have the thieves start spreading rumors of the dungeon kidnapping people, and pointing at every missing person as just another the dungeon took.  Then he’ll just need to publicly make sure the townsfolk know he’s working to deal with the dungeon within the law, and they’ll practically beg him to take direct control of Fourdock!

And once he reveals the thieves guild as having been working with the dungeon all along, that will make it all the easier to wipe them out, leaving his control uncontested.