Chapter 11 with loooovveeee lol

Finally got some sleep ya'll!  I hope you enjoy 11 :)

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CHAPTER 11 – Day 141 – Kuborn 31, 0 AoC

Name: Ran’dolphinius Race: Half-Human/Half-Undine Disposition: Trusting
Racial blends are erratic in their   disposition and powers. The offspring   of such a union can inherit all or none of their parent races’   characteristics.
Level: 47
Health: 581 Mana: 412 Stamina:   353
Strength: 29
Agility: 54
Dexterity: 52
Constitution: 43
Endurance: 32
Intelligence: 36
Wisdom: 57
Charisma: 59
Luck: 57
Profession: Rogue Specialty:   Spy Focus: Counterintelligence

A thousand questions flew into Richter’s head. He didn’t know what to ask about first. The man wasn’t even human! It wasn’t like the chaos seed had a problem with nonhumans. If anything, the humans he’d met since coming to The Land had a bigger chance of being aholes. Still, that seemed like a really basic thing to let a guy know about! 

Looking at the man’s stats, Richter saw that Randolphus’ build was fairly well balanced. It occurred to the chaos seed it was somewhat strange applying game terms to real people, but the term “build” definitely still fit. That observation came and went quickly though. There too many hanging questions to give it more than a moment’s thought. 

What was a Focus? Exactly how many points did the chamberlain get per level? What did his abilities and marks mean? Of course, that wasn’t even the most striking thing. Randy, Ran’dolphinius Richter corrected himself, was level forty-seven. Forty-seven! Richter hadn’t met anyone that high of a level before. At least not anyone that wasn’t actively trying to kill him. The chaos seed had to hope that was still the case here. On top of all of that, Randolphus was a Spy? And what, the ever-loving hell was a Focus?

Deciding he wanted an answer to his last question first, Richer opened his mouth to speak, but Randolphus beat him to the punch. 

“There are many things I have to say to you, Lord Richter, but foremost among them is this: I am sorry. I am sorry that I have deceived you. I am sorry that you had to ask me to reveal this secret to you. Many times, I almost broached the subject,” he sighed and shook his head, “but the last five months have passed in a blur. Most of all, my lord, I am sorry that I allowed that woman to attack you so savagely.” 

There was real regret and remorse in his voice. It occurred to Richter that a Spy could probably lie well enough to fool the devil himself, but still, he couldn’t help but want to believe the man. Still, the content of what he was saying made Richter tighten his grip on the hilt of his enchanted dagger. 

“Are you telling me you conspired with the Assassin to do-” he swallowed hard, his throat growing dry, “to do what she did to me?” If Ran’dolphinius said “yes,” then only one of them would leave this room alive.

“No,” the Spy answered. An almost imperceptible amount of tension eased in Richter’s shoulders, but his eyes still remained fierce and locked on the man sitting across from him. Ran’dolphinius’ voice was still sorrowful and his gaze remained unwavering. “I did not know she was an Assassin. I only knew that something did not quite add up about her. I told myself that it was due to the harsh abuse she said she had suffered at the hands of the mercenaries. A story we both now know was a complete falsehood.”

“Oh,” Richter responded hollowly. The horrors of that night still made him break into a cold sweat. Knowing there wasn’t some conspiracy did help a bit though and the beating of his heart eased. “I don’t blame you for what happened. I was taken in by her damsel-in-distress act too.”

Ran’dolphinius shook his head, “You do not understand. I am trained to detect such falsehoods. That is the very purpose of my Focus. If I had not been so concerned with keeping my own secrets, I would have seen through her lies.” He paused for a moment and sighed deeply. “I have not just been pretending to be Randolphus. No matter how skilled an act, there are magics that can see through such deceptions. Sumiko’s spell, for instance.” He trailed off, looking at Richter meaningfully.

The chaos seed blinked. Ran’dolphinius had just admitted that he had been able to beat Sumiko’s Soul Window spell. That spell was the primary way that he ensured the loyalty of everyone in the village. One of the questions that everyone answered was, “Do you mean Lord Richter any harm?” If the Spy had been able to deceive the Life master regarding some of the questions, then he definitely could have lied about that question as well. 

The two men looked at one another as Ran’dolphinius read his face. The series of conclusions that Richter was drawing was inevitable and inescapable. The hand holding the hilt of the dagger grew slick with sweat. A cold pit formed in his stomach. Richter prepared himself, physically and emotionally, to plunge the blade into the chest of a man he had trusted almost above all others. The Rogue recognized the murder in Richter’s eyes… and he did nothing. 

The moment dragged out even longer. If the Spy had made even the slightest of movements to attack or defend himself, the chaos seed would have attacked. Instead, the half-undine just waited for whatever would come. A full minute passed until Richter commanded in a tightly controlled voice, “Continue.”

His gaze never wavering, Ran’dolphinius spoke, “I am able to conceal my identity so effectively not because of my skills as a Rogue or Talents as a Spy. I can do it because of my heritage. Water magic is the magic of change, illusion and befuddlement. One of the gifts from my mother was an ability, Undine’s Deception, that allows me to become someone else. I do not pretend to be Randolphus. I actually transform into that identity.”

“You can shape-change?” Richter asked. If that were true, the chamberlain was even more powerful than he had thought.

“No, Lord Richter. The change is not external, though there is clearly some of that as well,” he responded, gesturing to his alien facial features. “The change I undergo is deep and internal. I can adopt the persona of a false identity so completely that almost nothing can pierce the falsehood. The physical change is only the smallest part of my ability.”

Ran’dolphinius’ face grew regretful again before he continued, “The downside is that using my ability also reduces my capabilities. That is what I have to apologize for, my lord. That is my shame. If I had not been using my Undine’s Deception to actually become Randolphus, I would have been able to detect Sonirae’s falsehoods. I could have saved the lives of the guards she slew and saved you from the atrocious acts she committed. Because I was more concerned with protecting my own secrets, I cut myself off from my Specialty and thereby lacked the ability to pierce her deception.”

Ran’dolphinius bowed his head, finally breaking eye contact, but not before Richter read the shame on his face. That, coupled with his sincere tone, made the chaos seed sigh. Relaxing ever so slightly, he made a suggestion, “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”

Randolphus, or Ran’dolphinius, nodded and began to speak, “I am older than I look. The father of the current King of Yves was not only my liege. He was also my nephew.” With that bombshell, Richter’s eyes widened. Now the guy was fucking royalty?

“No, Lord Richter,” Ran’dolphinius easily reading his face. “I can never sit atop the throne of Yves. Even if every other member of the bloodline died, I agreed to an unbreakable geas one hundred and two years ago. I have already told you that the royal palace was built upon a Dungeon that was in turn built upon a Place of Power. The ley lines of Fire, Water, Air and Earth intersect to form the nexus of Powers. The Dungeon reflects this. It is called the Hall of Elemental Hunters, and creatures strong in those four Basic Elements call it home.”

“It is not widely known,” the Spy continued, “that not all creatures which call a Dungeon home are monsters. One day, my father, the grandfather of the current king, was dungeon diving and came upon a lake of cool clear water. The story goes that the air was warm. Steam rose from the surface of the water, and the banks of the pool were covered in soft mosses and fragrant flowers. My father told me that it was one of the most serene and beautiful settings he had ever, or would ever, see. They would have distrusted it immediately, having found it in the Labyrinth, but it was a Shambhala.”

“Shambhala?” Richter asked.

Ran’dolphinius sighed, “There is much for you to learn, Lord Richter. Dungeons have many rules, as does the Labyrinth as a whole. Some rules are transient. They can change and shift based on something as ephemeral as the position of the sun in the sky. Others, however, are sacrosanct and eternal. One of the oldest and most honored are the Shambhala. No violence will be perpetrated by the denizens of any Dungeon, or even the Labyrinth, against an Adventurer in such a place. Similarly, any Adventurer that causes harm while in a Shambhala will forever lose the Mark of the Adventurer and will gain the Curse of the Labyrinth.”

“And that is?” Richter asked, pushing down the irritation he always had when people explained concepts with other unknown concepts. 

“I do not actually know, Lord Richter. No one I have ever known has been foolish enough to break the peace of a Shambhala or earn the curse in another way. It is said, however, that death is a welcome release from the torments it inflicts.”

Richter nodded for him to continue.

“The King’s party had been diving through the Labyrinth for days. They were nearing the end of their return journey and the entrance to their Dungeon was in sight, when they were attacked by monsters both fell and numerous. They tried to retreat, but the enemy had chosen their ambush site well. The party was far from a node and had to fight their way to safety.” Richter wanted to ask another question, but decided not to interrupt. “Two of their members died in the opening salvo of the battle. Every surviving member was injured. Exhausted, low on potions and mana, they were lucky to find the Shambhala. After binding the worst of their wounds, they lost consciousness.

“When they finally awoke, they saw something that they had never expected. The Shambhala was home to a small tribe of naiads. Water nymphs,” he clarified at seeing Richter’s lack of comprehension.

“Oh!” Richter exclaimed. Nymph was a word that he recognized. He doubted there was any red-blooded male, or too many geek females, that hadn’t had a wistful daydream about finding a wood nymph that they could “comfort.”

Ran’dolphinius’ bluish lips pulled back in a faint smile and Richter caught a glimpse of his sharpened teeth. The chaos seed pulled back slightly and an inch of the blade he still clenched cleared the scabbard before he could stop himself. Even with Randy’s new, somewhat alien visage, he had started to relax. Those teeth weren’t made for eating corn though. They were made to rend flesh. 

Seeing Richter’s reaction, the mirth left the half-undine’s face. He continued in a smooth and level voice, “One of the King’s party members was so surprised that, despite being in a Shambhala, he almost attacked when the naiad touched his face. Luckily for him, he forestalled his sword strike. It didn’t take long before all the Adventurers were enjoying the comforts of the naiad’s tender mercies. If the King had been content to enjoy himself with his men, then I would most likely never have been born, but his arrogance was as legendary as his strength. 

The story goes that he strode out into the waters and called for the queen naiad to come and slake his “thirst.” Some versions of the telling even state that he dipped his manhood into the waters and shouted, ‘I am a grower and a shower! The coldness of these waters cannot shrink the spear!’” Ran’dolphinius shook his head with a faint smile, “This may simply be hyperbole, Lord Richter, but what is known is that something heard his boastful call and decided to take teach a painful lesson to my arrogant father.”

“I thought you said no one could harm anyone else in a Shambhala?” Richer interrupted.

“There are more ways to enact revenge that simply harming someone, Lord Richter. At times, all that is required is to give them what they ask for. There was no queen naiad, but the Dungeon had evolved to the point that each Power could manifest an Avatar, a physical manifestation of a Basic Element. In this case, the Water ley line manifested a powerful undine. The elemental took the form of a beautiful winged naiad and she lay with the King, fulfilling his every desire.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a revenge,” Richter said.

“Ah,” Ran’dolphinius replied with the tone of a teacher. His face may have changed, but his voice was still pure aristocrat, “so others have also thought. You must remember however, that the powers of an undine lie in illusion and misdirection. She enchanted the men of the party so that a single night of pleasure actually lasted an entire month. It is true that no harm can be perpetrated within a Shambhala, but such was the beauty of the naiads that when the undine asked each man a simple question, “Can we please you forever?” they all acceded. Thrice she asked each of them, and thrice they agreed. As they stayed under the undine’s power of their own free will, the elemental’s spell did not break the law of Labyrinth. I believe you may have already learned this lesson, but I shall repeat it nonetheless. In The Land, your words have power. This is doubly true if said to a woman.”

Richter nodded. He had indeed learned that lesson. And the second part about women was a lesson he’d learned too many times while still on Earth. 

“The King’s party might have stayed there until they died, trapped in pleasure. Fortunately, as arrogant as the King was, he also engendered great loyalty. A cadre of Adventurers loyal to him, Specialists all, fought through the Dungeon. They searched for weeks and finally found their liege. Once they entered the Shambhala, the enchantment was broken. The naiads left the embrace of their lovers and dove back into the pool, disappearing forever. 

The cries of pleasure that had been echoing through the Shambhala turned to wails of sorrow and anger. Two of the King’s party had died from neglect while under the Undine’s enchantment. They had sought pleasure above even their own need to eat and drink. The others were malnourished. Despite their anger and weakness, it is said they all still reached towards their disappearing lovers. One drowned himself in a river weeks later in the vain hope he might find his lost love. It was the King who suffered most though,” Ran’dolphinius finished. Richter couldn’t help but notice that a note of bitterness worked its way into the round pear-shaped tones of the man’s voice.

“The undine revealed her true form a moment before leaving the King. What had been a beautiful woman of perfect proportions became a scaled humanoid with sharp teeth and a fish-like appearance. She spoke to him one final time as the naiads’ fled, ‘Honor your Vow.’ Then her body dissolved into water, and she was gone. 

Time passed, and the event was mostly forgotten. Death was a common occurrence in the Labyrinth, after all. Also, the court quickly learned not to discuss the undine, at least not within earshot of the king or his Adventurers. One beheading was all that was required to teach that particular lesson. 

One year later, however, as the King was preparing to enter the Dungeon, a hooded figure blocked his path. His fellow Adventurers moved to attack, but the figure threw back her hood. When the King saw that it was the undine, he stayed the attack. One of my father’s close friends said that he saw the pain of lost love on the King’s face, though he was never so foolish as to broach the topic directly. 

In the undine’s arms was a small bundle. She called out to the King using the same words she’d used as a farewell a year before, ‘Honor your Vow.’ 

Now, the King may have forbidden open talk of the events at the Shambhala due to embarrassment, but he was not so foolish as to pretend it had not happened. He had spoken to his greatest advisors about what he could remember and they, in turn, had searched the palace records for any hint of something similar occurring in the past. The Scholars he employed had argued as their Profession is wont to do, but one had a theory that the Undine was actually an Avatar of the Dungeon. As soon as the King had heard that, he’d known in his heart it was the truth.” 

The Spy’s voice became lecture-y again, “A Vow is never to be taken lightly, much less the Vow of a King. Breaking such a promise could have repercussions not just for him, but for the entire kingdom. A Vow to the manifestation of a Place of Power however, was another thing entirely. When it was factored in that his Dungeon was linked to the Vow as well… the Scholars had no disagreement on this particular point. The King could not even consider breaking such an oath. This was the reason the King gave for stopping his Adventurers from killing the undine, though again, his friend tells a different story. 

I was told that the undine smiled as she walked closer and then pronounced, ‘I see you have learned some small amount of wisdom since our time together.’ Then she handed him the bundle and made him repeat that he would honor the Vow. And,” Ran’dolphinius said, placing one hand on his chest, “he did.”

“You were the baby,” Richter said nodding as he digested the story. Only silence surrounded them. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about the tale, but he was happy he was finally getting to the truth. As he thought about the story, a question occurred to him, “If it was the current King’s grandfather that sired you, how old are you?”

“I will celebrate my one hundred and ninth year come Sanren, my lord. Now, if I may, I have a question for you.” 

The two men made eye contact and Ran’dolphinius slowly stood. Richter matched him, at long last letting go of the dagger still under his pillow. It wasn’t that he doubted the deadliness of the Spy, but he just didn’t believe the man would attack him. Whatever else Randy was, he was a man of honor. 

As they stood to their full heights, Richter received another small surprise. The chamberlain had always been a bit taller than him, but with the glamour fallen away, the chaos seed now overtopped him by at least four inches. Somehow, that didn’t take away from the power or strength that the half-undine exuded though. 

Slowly, so that he didn’t startle Richter, the chamberlain took his pen and drew the point across the surface of his palm. Though his skin had a blue undertone, the blood welling was as dark red as any human’s. The metal nib sliced through the flesh as easily as a scalpel and Richter realized anew just how precarious his position would be if the Spy chose to attack him. Ran’dolphinius turned his hand to the side, and the blood began to fall in a slow pat, pat, pat onto the stone of the floor.

“Twice before I have made a Blood Oath,” Ran’dolphinius pronounced. “Once, to my father, I swore to never to sit upon the throne of Yves and to forever serve his bloodline. I did so faithfully until the new King cast me from his service when he learned of my true lineage. With my father’s flesh now turned to dust, I hold that Oath fulfilled. My second Oath I cannot share with you, even if it means you cast me from your side. I would never have shared so much with you if I did not truly trust you, my lord. Even now, I cannot share that one truth. And yet despite the fact that you may kill or exile me, my third Oath is this.”

Ran’dolphinius knelt down and lay the palm of his bleeding hand flat on the stone, “I, Ran’dolphinius, swear by my blood to the four Powers embodied in this stone and to the Universe itself that all I have said this night is true. I further swear that all I will say for the rest of this night will be true.” He looked up and made eye contact with Richter, “I believe in you. You have come far in the months that I have known you. Your decisions have both saved and cost lives, and each has weighed upon you. I have seen you evolve into a true ruler, and know that you base your leadership not just upon the might of your blade or magic, but rather your ideals. Acceptance for all, increasing the power and level of those around you, and protecting those too weak to protect themselves…” 

A slight sheen of moisture began to cover Ran’dolphinius’ eyes as he continued to stare at the chaos seed. His voice took on the slight echo of Power that occurred when the Universe recognized and held you to the words you would speak, “I believe in you, my lord. Know that as I make this Oath. By the power of my true name, by the lineage of my father King Phillipe III and my mother the Avatar Undine, I formally swear allegiance and loyalty to you, my Lord Richter. From now, unto my very death, I will protect you and your interests, to the best of my ability and without deceit. Will you have me?”

The air stilled and a feeling of great weight settled upon Richter. The eye of the Universe looked down upon him and the strings of fate drew taut as they awaited his decision. A pattern of importance would be woven into the skein of history tonight, and the tapestry would change based on his response. 

Richter felt the import and yet still took his time to think. The Spy had been right, he had learned the importance of words in The Land, and he would not rush judgement in such an important moment. On the one hand, Ran’dolphinius had deceived him. The man wasn’t even human, and Undines weren’t even a race he was familiar with. A half-elf, or even a half-orc, wouldn’t be a person he would dismiss out of hand. But what if Randolphus - Ran’dolphinius, Richter corrected himself again - thought in an alien way because he was half-elemental? Did that make him half-monster?

Perhaps even more troubling was the second Oath that the chamberlain couldn’t tell him about. It was more than just a small cause for concern. What if that Oath was something horrible like killing all humans? What if it was to infiltrate other villages and kingdoms, being loyal until he could sell them out to Yves? The man was a damn Spy after all. Not trusting him was kind of in the name. 

It was insane to Richter to even think about the fact that the word “Spy” wasn’t just a job description. Ran’dolphinius wasn’t just someone who relayed information. The fucking Universe had assigned him that Specialty! What did that say about him as a person? What did that say about the man’s soul?

Part of Richter itched to attack, if only because it was an easy and definitive option. His nerves were still raw from a day of battle. The short sleep had taken the edge off, but even with his Belt of Sustenance, he needed more rest. Yes, a part of Richter just wanted to take a potentially troubling piece off the chessboard. That made him think about how he really should invent chess in The Land. It wasn’t just a relaxing game, it was a great way to…

The chaos seed shook his head. He was more tired than he thought if his mind could wander like that. Then his eyes narrowed. Or had he just gone off on a tangent because of some weird Spy Talent that the chamberlain had purchased. Was he being manipulated? Was his thinking about being manipulated a manipulation itself, aimed at keeping him off balance? Richter stared hard at Ran’dolphinius, then released his breath in a huff. He could go down that rabbit hole forever and keep falling. No, he had to focus on what he knew.

What he knew was that Ran’dolphinius had in all likelihood saved lives in the village with his contributions. The chamberlain had made sure that hundreds of people had been fed, clothed and sheltered for months. He had been a blessing to the Mist Village. 

There was also the point that Richter wouldn’t even be facing this choice if Ran’dolphinius hadn’t decided to be honest with him. The man had shown him trust. It might just be the Universe exerting its hidden rules, forcing the Spy to come clean since their official relationship had improved from Admiring to Trusting. Even if that was true though, it didn’t mean that Randy’s regret for deceiving him wasn’t real. On the contrary, it might just ensure that the man was telling the truth. 

Of course, the most important thing was the Blood Oath. Richter had made one himself, and the consequences for failure were severe. His Oath hadn’t even involved calling on the Universe or a Place of Power. Words had power. With what Ran’dolphinius had just promised, Richter couldn’t even imagine what the consequences of breaking such an Oath would be…

He came to a decision.

“Stand,” Richter commanded.

Ran’dolphinius did as he was told. Standing now, the blood from his hand continued to fall to the floor, pat, pat, pat.

“Swear that your Oath will last until I release you from it,” Richter told him. “Swear that even if I die and never return, you will hold to your pledge.”

“I do so swear,” the chamberlain intoned.

“Swear that you will give me honest counsel, and that you will support me to the fullest of your abilities, skills, Talents and capabilities.”

Ran’dolphinius did not hesitate, “I do so swear.” 

The already oppressive weight in the room increased. Richter spoke a final time, “Swear that you will hold your Oath to me with the same respect and importance as any other Oath, past or present. Swear that you will not take any action to compromise me, my village, or my interests even if it conflicts with other Oaths, before you speak to me and tell me why.”

Ran’dolphinius’ eyes widened, and for the first time Richter saw him look uncomfortable. This was the main point. The chaos seed wouldn’t force a man he trusted and respected to betray his values or conscience. Richter also couldn’t let such considerations compromise his own goals and needs, though. He was basically asking Ran’dolphinius to confront him before the man did something Richter might object to. The chamberlain would have to look him in the eye and admit he was about to betray him. It was entirely possible that only one of them would walk away from that conversation. 

The blood continued to fall, pat, pit, pat.

The chamberlain’s discomfort lasted but a moment before he answered, slowly and deliberately, “I do so swear.”

Richter spoke a word of Power and a golden radiance surrounded his hand. He reached out and clasped Ran’dolphinius’ bloody palm, healing the wound. The chaos seed maintained his grip and rested his other hand upon his chamberlain’s shoulder. “I accept your Oath of Blood and fealty, and swear to honor your pledge with the same gravity in which it was given.” 

The still moment passed and the Universe moved its gaze beyond the two men. Ran’dolphinius’ face took on a look of pleased relief, and Richter’s own face broke into an involuntary grin. Long ago he had decided that when he was faced with an impossible choice, when the future of all paths were equally shadowed, when the countless possibilities of either choice either balanced out or were hopelessly confusing, that he would make a decision based on what he hoped to be true, rather than by what he feared to be true. It was possible that this could be a mistake, but it was his choice, and that was what mattered. 

Besides, The Land itself seemed to give its approval of his decision.

Ran’dolphinius the Half-Undine has become your Companion. Companions will stay with you only as long as your goals align.

The glow faded from Richter’s hand and the two men stood there, blood laying between them, united in purpose. 

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I hope you know, but I still don't think I can ever say it enough.  

Thank you my wonderful fans, my fellow Mist Villagers :)

Your support and kind words have kept me on this path.  You keep reading.  I'll keep writing!

- Aleron