The Book of Dungeons - A weak to strong litRPG epic

Fabulosa repeated Maggie’s description of artisan zombies—how master weavers created them to show off their skills. “I saw two of them at Ul Itor. They were like walking pieces of art, and their nameplates read The Yellow Palace Zombie and The Harvest Zombie. Neither was hostile, and when yellow followed me around, I called him Oliver.”

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I listened, waiting for her to explain what this had to do with seeing Flagboi’s laboratory.

“His nameplate reads ‘Yellow Palace Zombie,’ and he’s only level 15. What a get-up he has—see-through armor and only one eye.”

Bircht skeptically crossed his arms. “And Oliver isn’t dangerous? Does he cast spells?”

“He doesn’t do anything as far as I know unless I look into his eye socket—which is empty—I can see Flagboi sometimes working in a lab.”

“I reckon Flagboi found Oliver’s eye at some point. He only has one, and I was going to help him get them back.”

Bircht’s forehead crinkled. “Why would you do that? Did you get a quest?”

Fabulosa shrugged. “He followed me around, except not like a dog. He goes away for days on end and then appears out of nowhere.”

Duchess laughed. “That’s more like a cat. You’re cooler than I thought. Most people would kill him for the experience points.” She shot Bircht a look, and he rolled his eyes. “But I can dig someone who likes dead things.”

“Liking undead and killing things that are alive are two different things. But you didn’t see what he was working on?”

Fabulosa shook her head.

Bircht turned to Duchess. “He’s been on about a project in Heaven’s Falls. But charging into a newbie zone isn’t as safe as some people would believe.”

Duchess shrugged. “I didn’t say it was safe, but I know my way around. I’d like to see it again.”

Fabulosa chewed her lower lip. “I saw medical things—like scalpels, except not as small. He cleaned blood off small knives, although he looked bored, so it probably wasn’t after combat. Mostly he scribbles in his notes.”

Duchess leaned back on her divan. “When the contest map unlocked, we were going to go after Flagboi. But after Apache left Hawkhurst, we figured taking out you guys one at a time would be easier.”

Fabulosa waved her fingers. “And here I thought we were on borrowing terms. I could fight y’all by my lonesome. I don’t even need Patch here, and he’s as tough as nickel steak.”

Before we lost any goodwill, I changed the subject. “So, does anyone know anything about Darkstep? I want to know why he’s singling me out.”

Bircht regarded the Wandering Eyes hovering between our cells. “Aside from him spying on settlements, I have nothing on him. His little eyes were all over the western cities. As far as I know, he’s been off the grid the whole game.”

“Do you know how Improved Eyes work?”

“Clootie had them. They’re like security cams that can heal or spawn another in its line of sight. He used them to investigate caves before going inside.”

“Can he hear with them?”

Bircht shook his head.

“Then how does Darkstep know so much about me?”

Everyone exchanged looks.

Duchess lay back in her bunk and stared at the ceiling, setting the tone for the next couple of hours.

I settled into my bed and pondered our predicament.

Any hopes that we’d form an alliance of four shattered at the slightest hint of Fabulosa not being able to take them on. Her ego simply couldn’t deal with anything less than an open acknowledgment of being the top dog. She had always been bold, but her public image wouldn’t settle for anything less. It got in the way of making a sensible alliance—and perhaps avoiding others was the safest route. Maybe alliances weren’t possible in the late stages of the game. It seemed the chief reason to do so revolved around Toadkiller. If he were as strong as everyone feared, teaming against him made sense, but it required trust—a rare commodity these days.

Pushing everyone’s buttons seemed self-defeating. Bircht and Duchess had egos, too. Was Fabulosa really that powerful that she didn’t need alliances? And if so, where did that leave me?

I turned my thoughts to the newcomers.

Something about Bircht’s shrunken head bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until I realized I couldn’t Transpose my way out of a vacuum. Spells required vocalizing magic words. Whether or not they understood themselves, anyone speaking magic words with enough mana could cast spells. Even if I saved enough air in my lungs to speak, sounds didn’t carry in vacuums.

If Bircht could grapple or root me, he could kill me with a vacuum—bypassing all the armor, health, magic, and mana I’d accumulated inside The Book of Dungeons.

That’s how Bircht knocked opponents out of the contest.

I didn’t dare breathe a word of my suspicions and avoided staring at the gruesome thing hanging from Bircht’s waist. Tipping him off might accelerate hostilities. At least in this cell, I had time to think. How could a player survive a vacuum?

I could order Gladius to cast a Compression Sphere. I made a mental note to teach him to do this with a gesture instead of only spoken commands.

Bircht and Duchess put away some of their items, but I could admire their garments. Bircht’s cape had one of the longest descriptions I’ve seen on a magic item.

Item

Mantle of Fortune

Rarity

Epic (orange)

Description

Level 20 cloth armor

10 armor

Bestows powers when moons are visible in sky.

Nassi – Gives wearer invisibility if stationary for 10 seconds.

Tarnen – Slows enemies within 30 yards by 33 percent.

Owd – Spell casting times and duration are 33 percent longer after wearer is stationary for 10 seconds.

Laros – Heals are 33 percent more effective after wearer is stationary for 10 seconds.

A lot of these abilities gave terrific ambush potential. Slowed debuffs wouldn’t tip off enemies to Bircht’s presence because people weren’t technically enemies until he attacked. The slow worked even while he moved, making him difficult to outrun or catch.

But casting a Compression Sphere could disrupt his other abilities, so overall, it wasn’t too bad.

Duchess’s funeral shroud was another matter entirely.

Item

Mask of the Many

Rarity

Epic (orange)

Description

Level 30 cloth armor

15 armor

+5 willpower

Item use—Creates a Mirror Image for each day wearer does not activate Mask of Many—up to their rank in dark magic.

I hadn’t fought against a Mirror Image, so I didn’t know if my high willpower would resist illusionary doppelgangers. I wasn’t even certain willpower worked against items—perhaps it only made spells less effective.

Fighting these guys would be very messy, and the deep elves seemed my best chance of survival. If I could convince them to let Fabulosa and me leave, perhaps Flagboi’s influence would take care of these two.

Before anyone dozed off, a level 6 deep elf named Falael entered the room, flanked by two guards. She wore no armor, but pouches and hilts protruded from her robe, and her casual demeanor suggested she could handle herself in a fight.

I unsheathed my sword beneath the covers of my bed in case Duchess and the deep elves spoke in their native tongue.

As I guessed, Duchess spoke in Deep Elf before the clerk could say anything. “Our want goes out to the North.” She wasn’t as versed as she claimed in Deep Elf.

The NPC shook her head sadly and ignored the gibberish. She addressed the four cells, speaking in perfect Common. “I need everyone’s names and settlements before we can on-ramp you to processing.”

Duchess tried Deep Elf once again. “What goes to processing?”

The clerk warded her off with a raised palm. “This will go faster if you don’t ask questions. I, Deputy Assistant to Officer Muriel of Consular Affairs, hereby grant you temporary sanctuary status in accordance with Deep Elf bylaws, the Diplomatic Security Acts 1 through 24, and the Intermountain Collaboration Committee. Until summary judgment by a duly appointed representative from the Consulate General, you may refuse the interview, but you will remain a ward of the department until such time has been reached. By waiving your right to silence, you acknowledge that all subsequent statements made to Deep Elf officers are factual and may not be contested at a later date. If you consent, please state your name and civil affiliation.”

By the time Deputy Assistant Falael finished, our mouths were hanging open. After a brief exchange of looks, Bircht broke the silence. “What?”

“If you wish to expedite processing, please give me your consent, name, settlement, and deity.”

Bircht shifted uneasily. “What does processing mean?”

“Processing determines your immigration status, right of passage, and rulings on treaty breaches, trespassing, and/or acts of espionage.”

“Can’t you just let us go? We were only passing through.”

The clerk rolled her eyes and exhaled as if Bircht’s suggestion was absurd. “Emancipation is conditional of summary rulings. If you wish to expedite this process, you’ll need to consent to interviews.”

Bircht leaned on his bars. “Does that include anything physical—like torture?” The look of worry on his face clashed with his bare-chested outfit. If I wasn’t as worried about her answer, I might have laughed.

The question didn’t put off the deep elf. “Consent doesn’t cover pressured questioning, coercion, or—”

Fabulosa broke the tension. “Oh, who cares? Sure. I consent—whatever. My name is Fabulosa, and I follow Forren. And you want my citizenship, too?”

The clerk scribbled on her parchment. “Citizenship works just fine. I assume you’re all human?” She looked at Duchess.

The head covered by black lace nodded.

“Good. That will simplify matters. Your settlement, Fabulosa?”

“Hawkhurst.”

The clerk stopped writing. “Hawkhurst? I’m afraid I’m not aware of Hawkhurst. What level settlement is it?”

Fabulosa looked at me, and I answered after double-checking on the settlement’s interface. Since I wasn’t an officer, it only displayed the basic stats. “It’s level 3 and its population is 302.”

“A level 3?” The clerk’s mouth gaped as she looked at me. “Oh, dear. This is going to be messy. Foreign Affairs won’t be happy to hear this. And do you also consent?”

I nodded. “Yeah, sure. Why not? My name is Apache. I’m from Hawkhurst, and Forren is also my deity.”

“Am I to assume you’re all members of Hawkhurst?”

Bircht crossed his arms. “Westlake here. I follow Inalos. And yeah, I consent to an interview.”

After a pause, the voice beneath the lace shroud finally gave in. “Fine. I consent, too. My name is Duchess, and I follow Tafor the Bull. I’m with Arlington, but my original settlement was Heaven’s Falls.”

“Your current citizenship will do.” The clerk turned to me and Fabulosa. “We’ll need to initiate an establishment profile for Hawkhurst before we get you two started.”

All the talk about diplomacy gave me an idea of how to get out of this place. With Gladius Cognitus still in my grip, I spoke in Deep Elf. “I would like to speak to your chief diplomat. As an ex-officer and elder of Forren, I wish to apply for asylum. Fabulosa and I were founding parties of the settlement. I was governor, and she used to be lieutenant governor.”

Deputy Assistant Falael stiffened, answering in Deep Elf. “Oh, dear. You’re officers emeritus of a level 3 settlement?”

Not knowing what that meant, I nodded. Perhaps it might get me diplomatic immunity or privileges. After giving her the name of the settlement’s current chief administrator, Ida, the clerk disappeared with the bored, armed escort.

Bircht gripped the bars of his cell and looked to Duchess.

“What did he say to her?”

I would have given anything to see her expression beneath that shroud. Her head shook. “He’s asking to see their governor.”

It took all my effort not to burst out laughing.

All three members shot quizzical looks at me. Even Fabulosa wanted to know, but I leaned back in my bed and grinned.

Almost an hour later, Deputy Assistant Falael appeared with six guards and a level 12 deep elf whose nameplate title was longer than any NPC I’d ever seen—Diplomat Nym, Deep Elf Foreign Relations Security Secretary. She gestured to our cells and spoke in Deep Elf. To understand, I held Gladius behind my back in a non-threatening grip. “Please excuse our protocols. We were unaware of your service record in a level 3 settlement.”

Unhelpfully, Duchess whispered to Bircht. “They’re talking about protocols.”

The other prisoners looked at me, but I gave Fabulosa a “stay” gesture to let her know everything was okay.

A guard opened our cells, and Nym bade us to follow before sharply stopping, turning, and wagging a finger. “I’ll have to ask whoever is using Life Leech to kindly put it away. Deep elves live long enough not to worry about lifespans. But I’ll have to warn you, using any other offensive magic against us will compromise your diplomacy rating.”

“Sorry! Sorry, that’s me. I can’t turn it off.”

Nym sniffed at the pettiness of the effect, turned, and we followed.

Fabulosa furrowed her brow and gave me an amused smile. “What’s up with that, partner? Are you suddenly into dark magic or something?”

“It’s this stupid brooch. It gives me willpower at the cost of annoying everyone around me.”

Fabulosa grinned. “I reckon neither of our avatars will live out their natural lives anyway.”

We walked upstairs and wound through halls of polished stone decorated with colored lighting and sculpted molds.

I gave her a neutral comment in Deep Elf to get her talking. The more relaxed they were, the more likely they’d have no objections to me carrying my sword. “Your suites impressed me.”

Nym offered her hand. “Oh, thank you. We try to make guests comfortable until we can determine their allegiance.”

Fabulosa watched my expressions instead of Nym’s, and for her benefit, I projected her a relaxed and pleasant expression.

I accepted Nym’s handshake. “Your process seems to be very efficient.” It made sense to stick to generic comments until I knew how to handle this conversation. I just hoped Fabulosa’s ego wouldn’t get in the way of figuring out what these people wanted.

Nym nodded hesitantly. “Thank you for saying so. Some find our officiousness overbearing, but we can’t maintain our treaties without knowing who we’re dealing with. It’s all a part of the war effort.”

“War?” I accidentally asked in Common, and Nym seamlessly shifted into our language so that Fabulosa could understand. Her eyes searched ours when she spoke, as if nervous that she might divulge classified information or wasn’t being forthcoming enough. She punctuated each of her sentences with an apologetic smile. “Technically, deep elves, dwarves, and gnomes in Grenspur are all at war. Captain Amadar wouldn’t have picked you up were it not for intelligence that enemy agents were acting on our soil.”

Fabulosa’s eyes widened at the first words she could understand. “Hold on. What’s this about a war?”

I ignored her and focused on Nym. “Would the tipoff who sent you after us go by the name of Flagboi?”

Nym didn’t answer immediately—a giveaway that she knew the name. “Why, I’m not at liberty to say. But—the source gave your exact position.” She widened her eyes to imply that she and I referred to the same person.

Nym ushered us into an empty conference room. Small offices adjoined the chamber. The guards shut the doors, but beyond, I caught glimpses of bureaus and desks. Deep elves worked on clerical tasks.

The guards returned to positions by the outer door while Nym sat down. “Falael, you can finish the Hawkhurst profile while we talk.”

Falael bowed and left the room while we sat down at a conference table.

“Thank you for your patience. We’ve maintained peaceful relations with our enemies for 227 years, but the number of alliances and treaties needed to perpetuate the armistice gets more complicated.”

Fabulosa squinted and crossed her arms. “So you’re not at war?”

“Yes and no. Gnomes, dwarves, and deep elves have fragmented into independent settlements, banding together and fighting with neighbors. As local feuds and alliances change, confederations must update their policies. Friends today become enemies tomorrow. Treaties and trade agreements conflict with one another, so they come and go. Inter-alliance infighting changes protocol. They dissolve nonaggression pacts or unite longtime adversaries.”

“I’m sorry I asked. So, are you saying you don’t know your friends and enemies?”

Diplomat Nym forced a laugh. “Oh, no. We do! Absolutely. We definitely do. We keep very accurate records. I’m just saying we verify lest we violate one of our standing treaties. So once we determine your settlement and faith, we’ll run it up the chain to see what our policy is toward you. It’s imprudent to act on impulse.”

Fabulosa arched an eyebrow. “Y’all are crazier than a bag of kobolds. What are we talking about here? Banishment? Because if it’s all the same to you, I’ll banish myself from this nuthouse.”

“Banishment is a possibility. So is death, reparations, tolls, right of passage, or even citizenship. We’re just not sure which one is right for you.”

Fabulosa shot me a questioning glance. “What did you get us into?”

I shrugged and laughed. “Possibly our only chance of escaping Bircht and Duchess.”

Fabulosa grinned and rolled her eyes. “You haven’t changed one whit.”