Chapter 16 Currents and undertows (1/2)
The waves are a mystery to us. Ever since the very first, during the cataclysm that came to be known as 'The Rending', when huge surges of monsters were sp.a.w.ned in the Dungeon below and tore their way onto the surface in great numbers, we have failed to find the reason why 'waves' of monsters suddenly flood the dungeon.
Some of my predecessors have postulated that the Dungeon uses the waves as a device to repopulate itself when monster numbers are too low and regular sp.a.w.ns are not sufficient to maintain a healthy population, whatever that may be. There is evidence to suggest that lower monster numbers increases the likelihood of a wave.
Yet there are records of waves occurring even when the dungeon is pact to bursting, though it is far more rare for this to happen, to be sure.
From the private notes of Alberton, Loremaster of the Legionem Abbyssi, Liria.
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”You look fine”.
”I don't feel fine”.
”Do you ever feel fine?”.
”Shove off”.
”It's just a meeting”.
”You can't be serious. A formal call to arms before the entire court is a 'meeting'?!”
t.i.tus shrugged, ”this is the way your dearest aunt wanted it done”.
Alberton grimaced and tugged at his lace collar once again, ”you know I don't like having to face my aunt”.
”We really made a brave Legionary out of you, didn't we Alberton?”
”Shove off”.
”That's shove off, commander”.
The two men stared at each other for a moment before chuckling awkwardly. Neither of them enjoyed this kind of formal appearance. t.i.tus felt compressed in his court garb, the lace, the b.u.t.tons, all of it stretched and pinched at his ma.s.sive shoulders.
A large insignia was sewn into his coat above his heart, the symbol of the Legion st.i.tched in blue thread on a deep, black background. Under one thick arm he carried his dress helm, polished to a mirror s.h.i.+ne until the metal sparkled in the light.
For his part, Alberton was draped in his most elegant robes, his beard had been washed, washed again and then combed before being oiled. The Legions court auxiliaries, charge with overseeing the organisations' interactions with the n.o.bility, had almost had to tie the Loremaster down as he howled and protested the grooming.
If he was forced to it, t.i.tus would have to admit that watching Alberton get presentable was the only enjoyable part of appearing at court.
At present they were stewing in an antechamber outside the throne room, waiting to be announced. After some time an overdressed, wheezing courtier entered to fetch them.
They were brought before the carved and gilded entrance doors, where, after a pause they were announced.
”Commander t.i.tus of the Deep Legion, Loremaster Alberton of the Deep Legion!” boomed the chamberlain.
After calling their names the official struck the floor three times with his staff, a ma.s.sive stone shaft with an elaborately carved lion head at the head.
The sharp sounds echoed off the vaulted ceiling as the two Legionary officials stepped forward into the ma.s.sive hall. To their left and right the courtiers, officials and local power brokers turned to eye their approach, stepping back to clear the center of the floor, allowing them to approach the dais on which the throne stood.
t.i.tus had to admit, the light streaming through the large, arched windows and playing across the elaborately carved pillars that supported the ceiling were impressive each time he saw them. Liria had been prosperous for a long time and the throne room reflected that wealth and power very well.
Atop the throne sat a matronly woman, advanced in her years but with the sharp gleam of intelligence still bright in her eye. Queen Verita had ruled with grace and wisdom for more than thirty years, much beloved by her people. The Legion had benefited greatly from her trust in that time.
As they approached the throne t.i.tus was irritated to see amongst the officials gathered near the dais some people he didn't particularly want to meet. As if detecting his souring mood, Corrin, the Mercenary Union president in Liria, winked cheekily at him as he approached.
t.i.tus could only sigh and glance back at Alberton, who appeared to be completely rigid, his eyes locked to the throne on which Verita sat.
He would be completely useless, as usual.