Notes : Chapter 131 of Manaforged Robotics has been written and added to the queue !
Apologies for the (very) late chapter upload, I basically spent the day clearing my place of dust mite habitats (carpets, mostly), cleaning up and snoozing off the strain of last week.
Started up again on MFR, might write for it for a bit, mainly because I want something lighter to work on.
As a reminder, friday will have a lore file, sunday chapter 441, kicking off book 12, and next wednesday will have chapter 131 of MFR.
I hope you enjoy this finale to book 11, and that you enjoyed the novel as a whole !
Chapter 440
Landsight Coast, Sapphire Kingdom
Port of Palian
Glarvistar watched as the ships approached the shore.
Palian was a sleepy port north of Tivaro. Its only claim to fame was the old headquarters of the explorers guild there.
It was why a small town had docks capable of accommodating capital ships. The fearless men and women who had gone around the whole continent, mapping out the coasts, setting down the foundation of what would become Tark, and finding the safe perimeters around the death zones of the Eastern Shallows and Seaside 9 had called this town home.
Long gone were the days of exploration however. The guild had long since been dissolved. Most of its people had gone to join the Sapphirian Royal Navy, the adventurers guild or the World Mage Court's cartographers.
Oh there were still people who called themselves 'explorers' in the town, but they were glorified port authority, with a handful of merchants who used the label to wiggle around a few regulations.
In theory, it would make a good logistical base for the incoming fleet and subsequent logistical support from the UDC. In practice it would have made considerably more sense to use Sapphire City, whose docks were second to none, and which was vastly closer to Southmarch to boot.
But no. Even now, a degree of separation must be maintained with the Sapphirian military, and supposedly Palian would be more 'discreet'.
As if even the small vanguard approaching had even the most remote chance of not being noticed upon arrival.
He watched as several of the incoming vessels went from the dock. But most continued straight for the shore.
Glarvistar had to hold back a sigh. Seriously? They were just going to beach the ships? Nevermind, of course they were. They wanted to demonstrate that they could do a waterborne invasion and landing if necessary.
To do what, exactly? Threaten the Aurorean Empire? Outside of the fact that it was directly at odds with the whole 'discretion' part of this whole mess, there wasn't any area they could viably land troops. On the northern half of the continent, the east coast was taken up by Sunrise and Lorenz, and attacking the newly liberated slaves would turn their Sapphirian allies against them more or less instantly, not to mention cause catastrophic public relations fallout, not that there was much care for that given what they'd already done.
The west coast was taken up by the Lost Sands death zone. Once you moved south, you had Gorromar, Eternity and Tark to the east. Good luck trying to get anything past the Eastern Shallows to begin with, then execute a landing with the Tarkian Navy ready to pounce.
Maybe, maybe you could try a landing at Suvra, in the Republic's Western Wildlands, but the town had just surrendered to the New Republic, turning over a considerable amount of people trying to run in the process, most likely to try and curry favor with the new government, and the only thing one would manage would be to take a foothold in the most sparsely populated region of the Aurorean Empire outside of the Red Sands Desert -if one didn't count the three cities within that formed the backbone of the Empire's core territories-, antagonize the Far Reach and get trapped at the end of an extremely long supply line hugging a Death Zone all the damned way.
It was already hellish sustaining logistics across the oceans. There was a reason the vanguard had only separated from the main fleet recently, and even then had several squadrons of warships. There were things in the deep ocean that would give sand krakens a run for their money. Though thankfully they didn't seem to go insane for concentrations of people.
The ships coming for the docks began to slow. The ones heading for the beach didn't bother. He didn't even glance as the strange sound of hulls enchanted to reduced friction hitting the sand filled the air.
Assault ramps hit the ground, and monsters began to thunder down on the beaches as the ships came into the docks.
The airships that covered their waterborne cousins moved into a defensive formation overhead, buzzing around like angry bloodbees.
"This seems really ostentatious." Murmured Mytaran, and the older dungeon core had to hold back a smile.
She was learning fast. He whispered back.
"I believe that is the point. Now shush, and let us greet our new arrivals."
She nodded, which he felt rather than saw. His avatar was clad in its full panoply of war, as fitting for him getting relieved of command. Bringing both of their avatars here had been done through teleportation, though honestly they needn't have bothered, and could have gone the old fashioned way.
Their foray into the Western Barony had slowed down considerably after their first unwelcome surprise. And what few civilians they'd found who hadn't been evacuated had been more hostile than the local military. Some of them had seemingly stayed behind just to hinder or hurt the expedition, and it opened a huge can of worms.
One the one hand, he had every justification to kill them, on the other even if they were firing first, the wholesale slaughter of them would just confirm the fears of the locals and turn this far more ugly than it needed to be.
Which was part of why he'd delayed. Of course, he was keen to teach Mytaran caution and sweeping for traps and the sporadic guerillas had been excellent training. But also, why bother wasting forces and political capital, when he was about to be replaced, and his new 'commanders' could bear those costs in his stead?
The nearest ship, a large battleship, but interestingly not a dreadnought, of which he knew several had joined the fleet, came to a halt, and was swiftly attached to the dock. A ramp came down, and a small knot of figures immediately made their way down.
It would have been easy to guess they were dungeon avatars, even if Glarvistar didn't know each of them personally anyway.
"Marshall." Said Glarvistar as he bowed his head.
The UDC had very few military ranks. Its organization being more a nebulous haze of commands, dungeon cores and allied forces. In many ways it wasn't all that different from how places like the Asarian Kingdom had handled their own forces.
But there was some need for titles. Marshalls were in command of the UDC's global forces, and charged with coordinating dungeon forces into a coherent strategic battle plan.
There weren't many dungeon cores versed well enough into strategy to take up the mantle. In fact there had been less than a dozen.
And over half of them were either neutral, or had gone over to the interventionists.
Which meant that he wasn't surprised to see that particular asshole with the rank.
"Glarvistar." The Marshal's tone was studiously neutral, but the dungeon core could feel the cold. Especially in comparison to his next greeting, as the other dungeon core bowed slightly. "Mytaran. It is a pleasure to meet you at last."
The younger core bowed back.
"The pleasure is all mine, Marshall Vildred."
She added his name. Normally she should have only addressed him as 'Marshall'.
Vildred knew that of course, but he wisely glossed over it. After all, he needed Mytaran.
He simply nodded graciously, and gestured at the ramp.
"If you would all come aboard, we have plenty to discuss."
Glarvistar would have raised an eyebrow had he had any. Well, technically he had some on his avatar's porcelain mask, but he wasn't about to show his surprise.
He had expected them to demand a meeting in the makeshift command facilities here. Which was to say the port authority building that had been lent to them with ill-grace. And that was even after bribing the 'explorers' that nominally held it.
True, the ship would be far more secure for sensitive discussions. But knowing this lot, it would simply be to hold the meeting on their ground, so to speak.
"Of course." He said smoothly, and followed his fellow dungeon cores up the ramp which they had come down but seconds ago, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, while the assembled dignitaries of the town, no doubt waiting impatiently for their chance to complain or extract further bribes, exchanged confused looks, still assembled at the entrance to the docks.
What the hell was going on?
*****
The man sitting in the room looked painfully normal. Wearing the robes some considered traditional to clerks in the old Orlov tradition, his eyes were downcast, though he still stole nervous glances around from time to time, as if he expected something to crawl out of the shadows to strike him.
He jumped as the door opened, and watched as a magical mirror was rolled in.
In that mirror, an older woman was sitting, gazing at him like he was a stray hair that had just turned up in her bowl of soup.
The guards saluted, and withdrew. The man nervously watched the woman, but the silence stretched on.
"...A-Are you someone in charge?" He finally said, his confidence cracking.
"Let's just say that I am high up enough the ladder to be making deals in the Empress' name and be able to give orders to the New Republic." Said the woman. "Given your position, that should be as much as you can hope for."
He seemed to relax, and she swore she could have heard him mutter 'oh thank the Gods and all the Seraphims' under his breath.
"I have information to negotiate."
Trira smiled. She wasn't the greatest of interrogators. But she had been an assassin, and gathering information from people was one of the tools of the trade.
Of course threats or detaining people was hardly subtle, but it worked. There were more pleasant methods, but she was far past the days of her youth where she squeezed men dry in every sense of the word.
"My. Courageous aren't you? You are under arrest. Held for treason, with the noose at the end of that long road, if I even bother to have you put on trial and simply don't order one of the guards to slit your throat. They certainly have had enough of your whining."
That didn't seem to cow him, and instead he steadied. Good. The hammering would come later, she was just setting the stage. Those who folded under simple threats rarely had any worthwhile information anyway. Who in their right mind would trust cowards with secrets after all?
"If you wanted to do that, you'd have done it already."
"True, true. Then what information do you have that is so important? Is it about the fact that you smuggled weapons and resources for senator Charles Veumen?" The man flinched, and Trira smiled. "Or is it perhaps that those resources came from the Sildaris Consortium?" There was another flinch. "Perhaps you even wish to try and sell the information that some of those resources ended up in Sunrise?"
The man shook briefly, and then he took a deep breath.
"T-Those would have been nice to sell. Y-Yes."
His stutter was back with a vengeance, and Trira nodded.
"But...?"
"I-I have other information. Information y-you desperately need. A-And in exchange, you will make me disappear."
Trira froze.
"I beg your pardon?"
He seemed to gain heart.
"You need to make me disappear. New identity. New everything. Even a fake mana signature. Rebuild my body from top to bottom, make me vanish into the depths of your Empire. Dig a hole so deep no one will find me and let me scurry in there for the rest of my life."
"And why do you want that?"
He seemed to hesitate, then leaned forward.
"We are not fools." He whispered. "Me and the others. We knew the Republic would fall. I haven't stayed here because I wasn't aware I should escape. But I couldn't. Not without being found out."
Trira tensed up.
"You're being hunted."
"Yes." He breathed out. "It's only a question of time. Guarantee me that I will be kept safe, that I will be given a new life. Give me the promise of your Empress, and I will tell you what you desperately need."
"Before I start making oaths and promises, what exactly is it that I would need to know anyway? What is so great?"
His glance flickered around.
"...A few months ago. When everything was going to hell. One of our old clients contacted us. Started asking questions about the Sildaris Consortium, and the Eris Empire. They wanted proof. Whatever we had. We realized quickly that they were planning to use it. For what, we didn't know."
Trira's ears perked up.
That...sounded exactly like whoever had tried to take out the Merchant and drag Rebirth into a war with the Eris Empire.
"And you gave it to them?"
He shook his head.
"They knew our policy. We would keep our secrets. And we did. Rebuked them, and once we realized the danger this paused, we destroyed what evidence we had." He swallowed, and his tone became haunted. "The deaths began. Our headquarters were raided. No survivors. And we started vanishing. Some of us went to ground. Others...didn't even get that far. Even those who hid began turning up in pieces. I think I'm the last one who knows who is after us. All the others were prioritized. My safehouses were always more deeply buried."
"Whoever that is, they are thorough, it seems."
"They always were. We thought...given the circumstances, we thought we were assets, not liabilities." He swallowed, heavily. "We didn't think they had enough information to take so many of us out so quickly..."
"I assume you had an insurance policy? Blackmail, proof?"
"We did." His shoulders sagged. "It went up with our headquarters and document safehouses."
"Just a name isn't very useful."
"Yes." His tone was so vehement she almost jumped. "Yes it is. Give me your Empress' word. Please." His face twisted, and the old assassin realized he wasn't just trying to negotiate for his life, but also wanted them to know.
He seemed genuinely hurt and horrified by the deaths of his comrades. People whose eradication had been chalked up to the merchants guild enacting a rather....vigorous cleanup. Perhaps even removing some people who knew the information they had wished to sold Allya. At least so Trira had thought.
Trira understood getting attached to one's comrades, even in a profession on the wrong side of the law. It was why she was here and now served under her former protégée and now Empress after all.
And she noted that he hadn't asked for help for his family. Because according to the details she'd gotten from the New Republic's forces, he didn't have much of one.
Not anymore.
Probably the only way he had left of avenging them was to use this information.
"You do." Said Trira, gravely. "On the honor of the Empress and the Empire, you will be taken care of. Though we most likely will have to evacuate you to Rebirth to fulfill that promise."
"Thank you. Thank you." His voice was a relieved whispers as his shoulders didn't so much sag as collapse.
"Now. Who is that client?"
"A dungeon core." He shook his head. "The dungeon core."
He spoke a name.
She was out of the mirror's frame, slamming her hand on the emergency call button to Alexandra before the last syllable was out of his mouth.
*****
Glarvistar came to a halt as the guard intercepted him in front of one of the side hatches, receding into the bulkhead of the hallway they were walking through.
It would look like any other...if he wasn't so intimately familiar with what painted mythril looked like.
The Marshal kept going, as if nothing was happening. Mytaran came to a halt. The other dungeon avatars tried to gently push her forward, and failed.
He met her gaze, and nodded minutely. She stopped her resistance, before the others could notice the exchange, and was ushered out of the hallway.
He turned towards the guard, who bowed slightly. It was a Quavilak, one of the amphibians that had died in droves in Crystal's ambush in the Western Baronies. But it felt wrong. As if something else was inside its body.
"Apologies, friend-faithful-warrior. But only your presence is required, as secrecy is paramount." Croaked out the creature, and Glarvistar's blood would have frozen had he had any, when he recognized the speech pattern.
No. No no no no.
That wasn't possible.
The door opened smoothly, and the guard ushered him in.
He entered the room, his armor informing him of the considerable extent of the enchantments and shielding of it. Some of that shielding was arcane.
Most of it wasn't.
He came to a dead halt as the doors closed behind him, and he saw the figure standing on the other side of what had to be the ship's navigation table, covered in charts.
The figure looked up, and smiled bizarrely. An avatar made to imitate the constructs of the Old World moving in ways that weren't quite right to enable the gesture.
Something that was only exacerbated by the war-broken being behind that smile.
"Hello Glarvistar. It's been...so long, my faithful friend."
The Founder of the UDC gestured at the charts.
"Come join me. There is much that needs to be done for our Dungeon Council to be United again."
END OF BOOK 11