“Mistress, I’ve come with a report.”
Melia glanced up from where she was sacked out like a loaf on Brandy’s lap. It turns out, there was such a thing as too much bread. But Y’cennia was just so excited to have a skill in [Cooking] that she just kept on baking. Pan after pan of [Simple Bread] kept sliding into the oven, until Melia was sure every single person in StoneCairne must have had some.
And when there was still some left over, she decided she was going to take one for the team and ate the rest. Strangely, it left her both full and not full. It was a complicated feeling, but thinking was too much work.
Somewhere in the madness, she started making dinner for the two of them, which turned into dinner for everyone in the dining room, and before she knew it, it was a whole thing. And halfway through everything, her [Retainers] mysteriously appeared and started washing dishes, clearing tables, and otherwise being over-qualified waitstaff. Melia was grateful they were there, though; she wasn’t looking forward to the mountain of dishes piling up. But once Layalee stepped up to the wash basin, it was like they all mysteriously vanished. Poof, gone, in the blink of an eye; only to be replaced by a clean and sparkling stack.
How did wooden plates even sparkle? They’d long since gone through all the fine dishes and run through all the cheap reserves, too.
Regardless, the team was wiped out for one reason or another, like eating too much, as evidenced by Jessica slumping back in her chair, groaning, and Brandy being put in a half-comatose state as her body digested. Fortunately, her hands were set on repeat, and they continued to run through Melia’s hair without much input.
“Oh?” Melia said, not bothering to leave her comfortable position. Lethia nodded.
“I have returned from the mansion. The first of the adventurers have arrived.”
“Oh.”
She probably needed to sit up for this, didn’t she? She gently removed Brandy’s hand (under weak protest) but figured she owed it to her [Retainers] to be responsible. All three of them were present, even L’menia, who had set out when they first crossed into Whispershade to investigate potential undead complications. Once she was in a more attentive position, Lethia continued.
“Shall I begin with the mansion? Or do you wish to hear the other reports first?”
“Are there more than one?” Melia asked. As far as she knew, the only request she made of her retainers was to L’menia. Even Lethia’s trip up the mountain was unexpected.
“Indeed, Mistress,” Layalee stepped forward. “I’ll take this moment to present our earnings. The mines were generous this time.”
Layalee placed a familiar [Miner’s Sack] on the table in front of Melia, and she stared at it briefly with a complicated expression. Inside was a small stack of cerulean. None of the crystals were quite as impressive as the one she harvested herself, but each was at least 4-star quality. There was also enough inside to fill a small chest; it wasn’t an insignificant haul.
“Thank you, Lee,” Melia eventually settled for, giving her [Retainer] a lopsided smile. Back in the game, she would send them on little side missions to collect materials. Layalee was a [Miner] and was often sent on missions to procure annoying or time-locked materials that Melia couldn’t repeatedly grind. She never imagined that practice would carry over into the real world.
“It’s my pleasure, my lady,” Layalee beamed. Sunflowers and sparkles practically radiated off of her as she stepped back and let L’menia step forward.
“I guess I’ll go,” she said, lacking some of her usual energy. Melia only just noticed the tigerkin’s heavy bags under her eyes and felt a rush of guilt at unwittingly causing her [Retainer] extra exhaustion. But she said nothing because she knew that if she did, the silly women would probably get angry at her, claiming it was their duty or whatever. She only wanted to make sure they took care of themselves. Melia would have to make it up to her. Maybe she could ask Y’cennia for some good gift tips; they were both cats…sort of.
“I’m sorry to say that there’s no clear evidence of a [Necromancer]. Or, I suppose that’s a good thing because it means Whispershade is in a safer place. But that doesn’t answer why the undead are rising in greater numbers and adopting more coherent strategies. I’ve spoken with the commander of the Night Watch, though he didn’t seem particularly keen on believing me.”
L’menia shrugged as her ears twitched and her tail swished.
“Oh well. What they do with that information is up to them. Your kindness has already gone too far. They should be grateful that a dragon deems their lives and their towns valuable enough to protect.”
Melia frowned slightly, but she tried to digest L’menia’s words. First, the increased spawns had to mean something, but she didn’t have a clue what it meant. She also agreed that she didn’t feel it was really her responsibility to dig any deeper. Let the StoneCairne Governor handle it. Melia had never met the woman, but the general vibe around the town suggested she was competent. L’menia, and by extension, Melia, had done their best.
The tiger’s second point gave Melia pause. She didn’t often act like it, but Melia was a dragon, as all of her [Retainers] occasionally pointed out. Did that mean this world’s version of her acted more draconically back in the game-days? Or maybe she needed to express her real side more often. She wasn’t afraid of losing their trust or confidence; her [Retainers] were far too loyal for that. But Melia felt she owed it to them as their Mistress to be a good lady, and she couldn’t deny that part of how they viewed her was for her draconic side.
“Thank you,” Melia said earnestly. She didn’t want any of them to think she took them for granted, even if that’s what a dragon probably should do. The tigerkin visibly perked up at the very slight praise, some of her missing pep momentarily returning. Finally, Lethia stepped forward once more.
“Do you wish to hear of the affairs at the mansion or Abbeyton first, my lady?” Lethia asked. Melia tilted her head.
“Is something happening at the abbey?”
If there was, she might need to go intervene. The place had grown too big a place in her heart to abandon it. Lethia shook her head.
“No. But it is tied directly to the adventurers. My lady, I know your heart is too soft, so it might pain you to hear this, but several less-than-stellar individuals snuck into the dungeon.”
Melia blinked curiously. She didn’t control who entered the dungeon. That was out of her hands. What did that have to do with her empathy?
“They died.”
“Oh.”
Melia felt her spirit plummet further than she anticipated. She knew dungeons were dangerous, even if she’d never fully understand firsthand. People dying in dungeons was a fact…as much as Melia treated it like a statistic. For some reason, hearing that somebody died in her dungeon almost made it feel like she was responsible. Guilt welled up inside her even as she tried to rationalize it away. She couldn’t be responsible.
Unless they made it all the way to [Meliastraza the Deceiver]?
But no, that simply wasn’t possible. First, they’d need to clear all the previous acts, of which Melia didn’t know the full count. And even if they somehow managed all of that, she sincerely doubted they were high enough level to take on a rank 20 Raid Boss with only a handful of people.
“Fear not, Mistress,” Lethia chuckled, sensing Melia’s growing gloom. “They were revived inside the abbey. Apparently, as a Celestarian church, they have a resurrection chamber. This is good for many reasons, but it might be prudent to add more protections to your hoard.”
“My hoard?” Melia repeated, glancing around at the people in the room. None of them had died, and hopefully they’d all stay wonderfully alive.
“You added Abbyton to your hoard recently, if I recall.”
Melia blinked owlishly and tilted her head. While she wouldn’t know if she unwittingly gave out any more titles, her treasure sense didn’t reveal any more blips. Everyone was where she expected them: Moeldywn was in Horizon, and even if Brandy’s blinding light blocked everyone else out, she could feel them all in the room with her.
“The [Miniature Aetherstone],” Lethia reminded helpfully, and as Melia instinctively turned her senses that way, understanding dawned. The area around the abbey, with the grounds, the [Greenhouse], and her crash-landing nap-zone, all pulsed briefly. So it seemed she had. If her [Retainers] noticed it, who else had? There had been some very powerful people present, and none of them were stupid. Oh well, too late now.
“More and more people are arriving in Abbyton daily, and not all of them are determined to challenge the dungeon. You might not like to hear it, my lady, but it might be prudent to clearly define your territory before interlopers start snooping around. Or, if that does not sit well with you, perhaps throw up extra precautions and defenses around your den.”
Melia wrinkled her nose. Calling that smooshed section of forest her “den” felt lame, but technically, Lethia wasn’t wrong. Melia could see herself napping there again sometime, and the kids had made that adorable sign. Maybe she’d go to sleep there soon so the kids could use her as a slide again? This world didn’t have an abundance of playgrounds like she was used to; maybe the kids needed some entertainment.
“Very well,” Melia nodded. “Maybe I’ve been too lax. Thanks, Lethia. Now what about the dungeon and the mansion?”
“Sable Lane was given leadership of the main expeditionary force,” Lethia spat, knowing full well how Melia felt about the [Dragoon]. “Fortunately, he has kept himself in check. Part of me thinks he deliberately allowed those foolish adventurers to enter the dungeon because he likely knew the outcome…but regardless, nobody else has entered.”
“What are they waiting for?” Melia asked. “Wasn’t their job to go scouting?”
“And they are,” Lethia agreed, though her scowl remained. “The mansion. They are scouting the mansion, Mistress. Will you continue to allow this?”
Melia wanted to laugh. To her, the building was an old game prop, but to her [Retainers], Lethia in particular, they held real attachment to the place. She could not, in good conscience, make light of her lead servant’s unwavering devotion.
“Have they tried to enter areas they shouldn’t be allowed in?”
Not that Melia knew what areas her mansion held, or what should be available to the public. Now that she thought about it, she really needed to explore the place.
“No, thank the gods,” Lethia breathed, closing her eyes with an exhale. “They seem content for the moment to do their jobs and post watches over the ballroom.”
Lethia let out a slight snort of amusement.
“As if they’ll find any monsters spawning in your mansion.”
“Well,” Melia considered the situation, “I suppose if they keep their camps relegated to the ballroom, I don’t have a problem with them staking out.” She had already given up that area as a lost cause anyway. “But why are they only keeping watch? Surely if all of them entered, maybe the people that died might’ve had a better chance at survival?”
“They’re waiting for the [Breakers], my lady.”
Melia once again tilted her head, but Jessica gasped.
“The [Breakers] are coming?! I mean, I guess, yeah, this totally calls for it, but holy shit.”
Melia turned her gaze to the [Hunter].
“Who are the [Breakers]?”
“You’ve never heard of the [Breakers]?” Jessica asked, looking at Melia as if she were simple. Melia gave her a flat stare and Jessica shrugged. “I mean, I guess if you were asleep for a hundred years, you wouldn't have heard of them. They must have formed shortly after you went to sleep, I think their founder might have been a Visitor? Or, no, maybe it was formed from the remnants of some of the guilds after all the Visitors vanished. Eh, doesn't matter. They’re based out of Stronghold; it’s mostly a dwarven guild. They’re strong, like really strong. Might be a higher rank than [Starfire], and they’re the highest level guild in Horizon. Legend has it they got their name from how they conquer dungeons. They don’t just clear them; they break them. Hence [Breakers]. [Dungeon Breakers].”
“Oooh,” Melia nodded enthusiastically. She always appreciated a good progression guild. As for the name, it was strikingly familiar. How much of it came from her friend’s old guild? Hank was the guildmaster of [Daybreakers], and he was a dwarf. Brandy was part of the guild, too!
“Hey, do you think you might know anybody in the guild?” Melia leaned back to ask Brandy. The high elf had a complicated smile, having likely come to a similar conclusion.
“I doubt it,” she sighed. “We were a small guild. If somebody did form a new guild from our remnants, I don’t know who it would be. We didn’t have a [Steward], and I didn’t have any [Retainers] like you did.”
“Hmm, maybe, if it’s a dwarven guild, they were Hank’s,” Melia mused. She noticed Jessica staring and tilted her head.
“I keep forgetting that you’re, like, a hero of old,” she said, nodding to Brandy.
And then, because she was Jessica, she opened her mouth and ruined it.
“Emphasis on old.”
“Bitch, I’m 28!” Brandy roared, flinging Melia to the ground as she hastily stood up. Melia grinned as she dusted herself off, clearly unhurt, and watched Brandy chase Jessica around the room. Unfortunately for the [Hunter], there wasn’t a lot of space to run around and Brandy had long arms. [Feign Death] was useless, too, since Brandy knew she was only acting once she finally caught her.
Lethia made a good point, and since it was getting closer to Ellesea’s weekly return to Horizon, the group decided to head out. [Sunrise] would head back to Horizon and spend a few days getting their affairs in order while Melia traveled back to Abbyton to sniff around. Normally, only Ellesea needed to go back for her classes, but this time, Alastair and the others had valid reasons, too.
No matter how slow it seemed to Melia, who was used to the speed and passing of a video game, the others were leveling rapidly. Certain things were starting to become concerns, not because they put them off, but because they thought they’d have a lot more time to consider them.
When Melia, with a worried tone, changed her mind and said she’d join them, Alastair gave her a wry smile.
“I won’t stop you from coming with us if that’s what you really want,” he said. “But I’ll be honest. It will be incredibly boring. Most of it is guild paperwork, and we all know how you feel about that.”
Melia returned his grin with one of her own. To her surprise, Brandy elected to travel with them.
“I’m curious about the guild,” she said in a non-committal way. “Maybe I’ll give them a chance to win me over.”
Melia was surprised, but any time Brandy expressed interest in this world, Melia wanted to encourage it. She followed them to the [Aetherstone], gave them some allowance for travel funds, and waved as they vanished with a sparkle of light. Melia stared at the afterimage of her friends as their silhouettes burned into Whispershade’s perpetual gloom, fighting to keep her mood brighter than the surroundings. Deciding to take her mind off of things, she ported over to Abbyton to see about camouflaging her new “den.”
So it was, then, that Meliastraza was separated from her treasure.
Moeldywn looked out her window at a spot of gathering clouds and frowned. Midsummer was over, but it wasn’t yet fall. Sudden squalls weren’t common until the autumn. Perhaps this was merely a late summer monsoon coming to dampen her spirits, or maybe it was a herald of a storm brewing on the horizon.
Not for the first time, Moeldywn chuckled at the only-too-appropriate name of her city. After the last few days, she needed something to laugh at. The situation with the demons in the south wasn’t improving, and as of two days ago, the ambassador had vanished. He was only missed because he didn’t show up for an assembly, even though he had very vocally expressed a desire to attend. When Moeldywn sent a messenger to his house, they found it empty.
As in, a plate of food served for dinner was starting to grow mold as it was abandoned on the table, the fork still punctured through some meat and the knife clattered to the side. Moeldywn ordered a discreet investigation, and it didn’t seem as if the man had left under duress, no matter how sudden his departure. The fact that the knife was still there and no blood stained the white tablecloth told her there wasn’t a struggle. Demons, no matter how calm and collected, would never go down without a fight. It was in their blood.
King Philip was finally starting to take an interest in the growing power struggles in the demon lands, something Moeldywn had been quietly advocating for for weeks now. She feared it might be too little too late. Soon, if her fears came true, there might be a new Demon King, and who knew what that might mean. A spot of rain in the summer would be the least of their worries.
A muffled noise from her outer chamber drew her attention and she closed her eyes. She knew this confrontation was inevitable; it was only a matter of time. The person approaching did not heed her servants' protests and continued forward unimpeded, as if nothing could stand in their way. In some regards, that was entirely accurate. After all, he was the King.
“So, you’ve finally come out of hiding,” King Philip said without preamble as he barged into Moeldywn’s office. She let out a tired sigh.
“I haven’t been hiding. You know exactly where to find me if you wish; in fact, I’m sure you used that relevant bit of knowledge to enter my study without so much as knocking. “
“Listen here, White Witch. Don’t play games with me.”
Moeldywn’s eyes burst open, but she instantly narrowed them as she turned toward her grandson.
“So, that’s how it is, is it?” she seethed. Then, suddenly, all the fight seemed drained from her. “Where did I go so wrong with you?”
Those were precisely the wrong words, which enraged the man.
“Witch, need I remind you, that I am King?”
“And need I remind you, Phillip the IV, that just because I produced an heir, I did not stop being Queen?”
They glared daggers at each other, seemingly at an impasse. Moeldywn broke first. Not because of some intimidation factor, but she knew if she ever wanted her grandson out of her office, somebody needed to stow their pride. She knew exactly where Philip got his stubbornness from.
“What do you want?” she eventually asked. Despite their less-than-warm relationship, she loved her grandson and tried offering the barest level of hospitality. She motioned to a seat, which he slid into without so much as a thank you, and had a servant prepare a selection of teas. He spared a glance at the small containers and sneered.
“I had those imported from the Far East, you know,” Moeldywn sighed as she waved a hand and the tea was removed. If he didn’t appreciate the delicateness of leaves that cost 2 whole gold a pound, she wasn’t going to let him waste her tea.
“Witch, where are you hiding her?” King Philip demanded. “And furthermore, why has it taken a full month to inform me of her return?”
Moeldywn blinked at the man, nonplussed.
“Who are you talking about?”
“I told you not to play games!”
Phillip rose from his seat and slammed his hands on the table. Moeldywn scoffed and returned the gesture. She was close to 400 levels his senior; he did not frighten her.
“I can only play if I know the game,” she spat. Though, to be fair, lacking Philip’s bulk meant that her slamming down on the desk had considerably less impact. “And despite my skill with magic, [Telepathy] is not in my repertoire. Again, I ask: who? To whom do you refer? I was unaware that the King was searching for someone on a missing persons list. If you had let my office know, as your Spymaster, I could have expedited a search.”
“You know exactly who,” Philip seethed. Moeldywn rolled her eyes. Forget stubbornness. Now he was just being dense. So he wanted her to guess, was it? Despite his fluster and posturing? Reaching back into the dusty recesses of her mind, Moeldywn tried to picture who might have returned recently that Philip would both know about and recognize that Moeldywn would keep tabs on. Her eyes widened. Only one person immediately fit that bill, though it had been years since she had mentioned the gnome to any of her descendants, once they stopped believing in fairy tales about the dragon.
“Are you referring to Meliastraza?” she asked. “I did not realize you’d taken an interest in draconic happenings. Has something also transpired with the dragons’ embassy?”
Phillip’s rage faltered slightly, and his surprise was revealed through a slight tilt of his head. Eventually, he shook it rapidly before stabbing his finger into the table.
“The [Saint]!” he hissed. “There’s been an appearance of a [Saint]! Why has this not been brought to me before?!”
Moeldywn felt the fight deflate out of her as she sank into her chair.
“Don’t be a fool, Philip,” she sighed. “What would you have done if you’d met her? It’s not like she was kept from you intentionally, either. For your information, when she appeared, she was disoriented and delusional. She was only level 1. Her identity had to be confirmed. And it was. What could you do? From the sound of your voice, I take it, nothing pleasant.”
“She is a [Saint],” the king repeated obstinately. “An asset to the kingdom.”
“Need I remind you that Eluna Brandywine is a high elf?” Moeldywn asked tiredly. “If anybody, she belongs to the elves.”
“Is she not a follower of Celestara?” Philip countered. “The elves follow Lunaria. She is a member of our church; she is our asset.”
“You dare equate yourself to a god?” Moeldywn scoffed. “Such hubris. You go too far, Philip, and I fear for the next generation. No, I wouldn’t give her to you even if I had the power to do so myself. As it stands, I do not.”
King Philip actually looked taken aback, as if something being out of reach of Moeldywn’s hands was impossible.
“So much for the lauded power of the White Witch, then,” he sneered. “But don’t try to deceive me. I know you’re keeping track of her. Where is she?”
“Probably with her party,” Moeldywn sighed. She almost laughed at Philip’s startled face. “Have you forgotten, she is an adventurer? She was a hero, not because of what she did behind stone walls in a gilded cage, but because of her actions in combat. From what I hear, she’s advancing quite rapidly. Soon, she will be out of all of our reach. Don’t go looking for her, Philip. For your own safety.”
“You dare-?”
“Yes, I dare. As a monarch myself, I very much dare. And despite our disagreements in the last decade, I also care about the well-being of my family.”
Moeldywn sighed and closed her eyes. She felt a headache coming on, one that wouldn’t be cured by mere medicine.
“Tell me, Philip: what do you know of dragons?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked hotly, but Moeldywn was done playing around. She let her aura leak out and the temperature in the room plummeted.
“It has everything to do with everything,” she stated coldly. “I will ask again, and I suggest you seriously consider: what do you know of dragons?”
The man stared at her, and for the first time in a very long time, he wasn’t the puffed-up man drunk on power sitting on a throne, but a normal human being.
“They are strong,” he said in a small voice, reminding Moeldwyn of how he used to be as a boy. Curious, attentive, and vulnerable. Where had those qualities gone?
“They age slowly and level slower. It’s uncommon for them to leave their lands.”
“But when they do?”
“They are terrifying,” he shuddered. “They make mere mortals like us feel like insects.”
“Do you know the levels of the draconic ambassadors?” Moeldywn asked.
“Nearly my own,” Philip frowned. Moeldywn nodded.
He was nearly rank 10, nearing his 990th level, while every draconic ambassador generally hovered around 950. To say that they were equal would be a bald-faced lie. Even at 50 levels lower, an untrained dragon would have more stats than a hardened human [Warrior]. They might lose a fair fight, but not for lack of strength.
“Have you ever seen them lose their temper?” Moeldywn asked.
“They are ambassadors,” Philip countered. “They are trained at keeping calm.”
“You make them sound like well-kept pets,” Moeldwyn scoffed. “Have you ever seen them let off steam? Unleash their rage? Our current ambassadors are both Reds. Have you ever seen them transform?”
“Yes,” Philip said. From how his face paled, Moeldywn knew he wasn’t lying.
“Terrifying, aren’t they?” She mused. “Standing in the shadow of a beast that towers over you, who could rip you apart with a flick of its claws.”
“They aren’t Human,” Philip shuddered, and Moeldywn almost pitied the man. But she knew better to debate his prejudices this late in life. Besides, he was half-right. Dragons were a step beyond Humanity, something between Humans and Gods. And then there was Meliastraza…whatever she actually was.
“Good,” Moeldywn said. “Keep that image in your mind. Now imagine something infinitely worse. The [Saint] is not the only one who has returned,” she said gravely. “The [Destroyer of Worlds] has also appeared.”
For a brief second, absolute terror flashed over Philip’s face before he let out a condescending laugh. It seemed this conversation was over.
“And here, I thought we were talking seriously,” he said, his smirk returning. Moeldywn could only shrug.
“Another thing you should note about dragons, Philip. They do so love their treasures. Never attempt to steal from a dragon, not even those kindly ambassadors that grace your halls. As for the [Saint]? The [Destroyer] is quite fond of the girl. For the sake of the entire kingdom, do not anger her.”