Mia still couldn’t quite believe what she was doing. It was stupid, but her tongue had once more worked faster than her brain. Before her self-preservation instinct could act up and stop her, she’d insisted, and now she was here, following Gabriel and Mark down the damp corridor illuminated only by the soft glow of a bobbing pink orb trailing after her brother.
She dearly wished Carmilla, or her mother, could be there, but the letter had been clear enough: only two escorts were allowed to come; anything more would be seen as a sign of hostile intentions on our part, which our mysterious host would undoubtedly mirror.
It all started with that damned letter. Mark had gone with Gabe to read it elsewhere and came back with bloodshot eyes and a thousand megawatt smile even his bushy beard couldn’t hide. He’d recognised his mother’s handwriting, apparently, and more than that, she claimed both her and her husband were perfectly fine … if a bit stuck as guests of some mysterious ‘lord’ she said she wasn’t allowed to speak of in a letter.
She, of course, failed to explain whether they were stuck because this ‘lord’ refused to let them leave or because the surroundings were overrun with powerful monsters.
The sound of their footsteps echoed in the vast, clearly artificial cavern as they walked in silence. Mia regretted every choice that led to this moment with every step she took towards what increasingly felt like inevitable doom. This was stupid. She should have stayed behind. Sure, she might have had the best escape Skill in the form of Spirit Blink out of everyone, but she knew that could be stopped by sufficiently powerful wards.
But she was here all the same, taking one step after the other, her body moving almost on its own while she was internally wrestling with the mother of all anxiety attacks.
What if the handwriting had been fake? Mind-control magic is a thing too, so maybe it was forced. What if this is a trap? I mean, there would be little point in bothering with a trap for a mage who can do what this one can … but maybe it’s a super lazy mage who wants to kill us with the least amount of effort expended … or maybe-
Mia shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss her thoughts and calm her rapidly beating heart. She was panicking; she knew she was panicking, but knowing about it didn’t really help. It was stupid too. She could just turn back; she could leave … but that meant leaving Mark and Gabe behind. Neither of them would leave; they were both beyond convincing at this point.
Mia kept walking, because that’s what friends did. Because she refused to leave them alone, even if the decision was heavily contested by both her paranoia and survival instincts.
They were taking this route, walking through the dark, damp tunnel hundreds of metres beneath the surface because the letter said so. It contained the expected reassurances from Mark’s mother — who always insisted that Mia and her siblings refer to her as Aunt Emma — and such, but at the end there was a brief list of instructions for how to visit the ‘lair’ without offending its owner.
The instructions in question demanded that no teleportation nor any form of magic that permanently altered the terrain be used within five kilometres of the mountain beneath which the ‘lair’ was located. Thus, walking. Lots, and lots of walking because the cavern system leading to their destination was like a maze where tunnels did their best impression of the Gordian knot in how they twisted and curled around each other without seemingly any rhyme or reason.
“Left again,” Gabe murmured as they came upon another intersection, turning towards the smaller mouth of a tunnel at the side of the cavern. In his hand he held the letter, and above it floated his divination cantrip, pointing the way ahead by using the letter as a medium. Apparently, it was the intention of the mysterious mage, and so was the fact that the magic in the letter that made it usable in such a way would fade in a few days. They had a guide to lead them through the maze, but only for a short while.
The air was stale, the floor slightly slick, and nothing lived down here. Worse was the fact that Mia’s Spirit Sense was muddled much more so than usual when she tried to sense anything through the walls. She couldn’t be sure whether to blame the thick ambient mana suffusing everything this close to the Dragon Vein, or a ward specifically made to hamper sensory abilities, but the fact remained that she could only sense what wasn’t obstructed by a wall. It made her uncomfortable, like she was suffocating, forced into a tiny box where one of the senses that had become such a crucial part of her life was cut off. It felt claustrophobic and oppressive, and it did not help her anxiety at all.
It was strange how natural a new sense she’d gained less than two months ago became in such a short time. It felt like Spirit Sense had been a part of her for her whole life, like she’d always had it. Weird magic bloodline stuff, it must be.
Mia sighed in relief when she glimpsed a stone arch leading to a small hall with a tiled floor, illuminated by the flickering lights of a dozen dancing Mage Lights floating around the room. Then her anxiety spiked again, and she tensed back up, her thumb finding its way to the base of her wand in a subconscious effort to prepare for things to go horribly wrong, like they tended to do.
Gave stepped up to the archway, his hand rising to gingerly brush his fingers across the barrier that Mia could feel but failed to see. It was faint, a film of mana thin as a thread but one that felt impossibly dense. Not much of a surprise there; this close to the Dragon Vein, the mana was so thick and potent Mia could barely tell anything about it beyond the fact that every mana attribute was impossibly high, from density to sheer power. Beyond a certain point, everything was just beyond her ability to sense. Hopefully, increasing her Sensitivity subattribute would raise that threshold.
To her, Gabe’s mana and this might as well have been of the same potency, and yet she knew even her brother’s magical energies paled in comparison. He was only Rank 3, and the Dragon Vein funnelled Rank 5 mana at its core. It made her feel rather small to realise she couldn’t even truly sense yet just how high the metaphorical heavens were.
The barrier split, then peeled back towards the sides like an invisible sliding door. Mia saw Gabe freeze, then take a soft breath to steel himself before he took a step. Then he was through, one step, two steps, and the breath he’d been holding slowly left him. Mark and Mia followed after him, a shiver running down her spine the moment she passed through the archway.
There was something there, pressing in from all sides, wrapped around her body, watching, waiting.
Must be the wards. Mia thought to herself, having to suppress the urge to coat her body in crackling Chaos-aspected arcane energy to free herself of the uncomfortable sensation.
A bright light bloomed into existence a few meters ahead, and Mia’s breath caught in her chest. There was a magical presence there, faint at first like an ember before unfurling and blooming into a bonfire. She blinked, pushing the supernatural energies from her sight as she’d learned to do around Gabe, and then she finally saw the source without its mana obscuring it.
It looked vaguely humanoid, a semi-translucent construct of mana, magic and something else, something more. It had no face, no eyes or any features, just the vague shape of a human, almost like a mannequin. It had a colour, but Mia failed to pin it down; the moment she grew certain that it was one shade, it would change before the thought could fully form. Maybe prismatic would be the best word for it, though it utterly failed to grasp the unfathomable nature of what Mia was seeing.
“Greetings,” the being said, or at least Mia assumed it did, considering the voice came from its direction. And what a strange voice it was, carefully neutral, devoid of any emotion, accent or lilt. But it was speaking in German. “Be welcome to my Lair. I name you guests for the day and no longer. You will be safe, unharmed and unbothered while under my protection. The ones you came to visit will explain the rules you must follow if you wish to be treated as such. Do not break the rules. My minions would be saddened and vengeful if I had to kill you, and then they would break the rules in a foolish attempt to avenge you. Which would fail, and I would have to look for new minions. So behave; it is in the best interest of us both.”
The moment the final syllable was spoken, the strange being vanished with a faint pop that Mia wasn’t sure was an actual sound, and not just another quirk of her Spirit Sense. For all she knew, this sixth sense of hers caught space being pierced, but her brain failed to interpret the information, so all that remained of that was the pop. The human mind had a fascinating way of simplifying things beyond its ability to fully comprehend. It was probably a subconscious, ingrained defence mechanism that allowed the subconscious to catch things the conscious mind missed, but considering that the supernatural had been a thing throughout human history … maybe it also served as an added layer of defence against eldritch knowledge or whatnot.
“Well, that happened,” Mark grunted in a fashion that told her he was desperately trying to keep calm and centred.
It certainly did. Mia thought, snapped out of her own spiralling thoughts. It was a bad habit getting distracted like that when she was stressed and didn’t want to deal with what the world threw at her for just a few more blessed seconds.
Mia turned towards her brother, latching onto the sliver of curiosity in her heart in an attempt to push aside the deluge of anxiety, concern and dread that tried to suffocate it. “You know what that was, Gabe?”
“A projection of some sort,” Gabe said, each of his words carefully measured and spoken with great care. “And I believe we have just been given ‘guest rights’ as dictated by the Old Ways. Let’s not make our host angry, alright? … like, be really careful.”
His voice was clipped, growing sharp and severe by the end even though he attempted to mask it with some faux cheer. That fake cheer was probably his attempt at not looking like he was freaking out.
Before Mia could ask what he meant, what the hell the ’ old ways’ were, or make a note about some curious terms their strange host had used, the distant gates at the other end of the empty hall creaked. The sound was that of tortured, ancient metal hinges screaming for salvation. Light bled through from the other side, a single pillar of it at first, quickly overwhelming the paltry illumination of the ever-bobbing Mage Lights dancing just below the ceiling; then it widened slowly.
A small form darted through the gap the moment it was wide enough, quickly followed by another one. The first one was … well, Mia’d thought she was petite, but this girl looked like she’d barely reach Mia’s chin if she stood on her toes. But it was strange; her body proportions weren’t wrong; she didn’t have that overly stout build dwarves apparently had, and nor did she appear to be suffering from the medical condition the magical species got their names from. She was just … a tiny human, though one that had a distinctly youthful face despite having curves that belonged only on a fully mature woman. It was a weird sight that Mia couldn’t help but stare at.
“Mark!” The girl shouted, her voice a high-pitched squeak of excitement. Then she crashed into Mia’s equally short dwarven friend, who stood frozen, engulfing him in a hug even as he stumbled back a step or two while instinctively moving to catch her. “Oof, you are tough as a brick wall. I’m so glad you’re okay! Did you get my letter? Oh, of course you got it if you’re here! Max, get your ass over here already!”
“Mom!?” Mark made a strangled sound of shocked disbelief. “What the-“
“I’m here, I’m here,” the second form finally reached them, huffing and puffing after the short sprint as he leaned forward, hands on his knees. He was clearly a dwarf, sporting a large mane of raven-black hair and an intricately braided beard that covered his entire torso, ending only near his beltline. “These stupid tiny legs weren’t made for running … Hi, Mark.”
“Hi … Dad?” Mark said, looking bewildered as he stared at the other dwarf, who gave him a nod at his questioning tone. “Huh. I should have expected this, I guess. You didn’t mention this in your letter.”
“The Lord was looming over my shoulder when I wrote it, so I got it done as soon as possible,” Aunt Emma said with a distinct lack of fear, anger or reverence in her tone. That boded well for how they’d been treated, at least. “Besides! Wasn’t it much better as a surprise? We had bets going on whether you’d end up as a dwarf like your dad or a halfling like me. I won, by the way.”
Uncle Max just huffed in fond amusement before his coal-black eyes turned towards the two siblings and he tensed up a bit. “Who are your friends?”
Mia blinked slowly, somehow having forgotten that she looked nothing like she had before the world turned on its head. Right. Of course he wouldn’t recognise her. She wouldn’t have recognised him either at a glance.
“Mia and Gabe,” Mark said, still sounding somewhat dazed by the reunion … or maybe that was just Aunt Emma. She had that effect on people.
“I thought-“ Uncle Max started, his eyes widening as he stared at them, though his gaze focused on Mia’s supposedly dead brother with a clear note of disbelief in it. “How?”
“The System kidnapped me a year before.” Gabe shrugged, sounding nonchalant. “Good to see you alive, both of you.”
“Yeah,” Mia added lamely, bobbing her head in agreement as she plastered an awkward smile on her face. Family reunions. Because technically Mark’s family were family, something like third cousins? I think Mom said her grandma was siblings with Uncle Max’s grandfather or something? What do you even call that?
The only reason they kept in touch was that the house Mia’s grandmother used to live in was next door to the one Mark’s family lived in.
“That’s … not the weirdest thing I’ve heard these last few weeks.” Uncle Max blinked owlishly at first, then shrugged with an amused snort. “I’m glad both of you came out fine,” he said, hesitating for a moment, “the others?”
“Mom and Sophie are both fine, not sure about anyone else,” Gabe said, and Uncle Max gave a nod, looking relieved. “So, what-“
“Oh dear, you two look adorable!” Aunt Emma bounced over and ended up choosing Mia to pull into a crushing hug first.
“Oof,” Mia gasped, the air quite literally getting squeezed out of her lungs. What the hell. Aunt Emma was strong, even though her arms were no thicker than Mia’s own. She’d been a tall, fit woman before who thought hiking eight hours uphill was a good way to spend an afternoon, but she’d never been quite this strong.
“Sorry!” She quickly loosened her grip, then gave her a final, much more careful squeeze before pouncing on Gabe. “Oh, you’re tougher, nice. Much more huggable.”
“Sorry about that,” Uncle Max said with a sympathetic grimace. “She decided that it’d be funny if she focused her Attribute gains on brutish strength and swung around an oversized mallet while being ‘fun sized’. She hasn't figured out how to hold back properly yet.”
Mia caught her breath, wincing a little at the ache lingering in her ribs, sending fresh pulses of pain whenever she breathed too deeply. Eh, it'd be fine, probably. At worst, she’d sip on one of the low-quality health potions, and it’d go away.
“I never thought pink hair would look good on a man, but you somehow make it work, Gabe, hmmm, hmmm.” Aunt Emma mused, gently tugging at Gabe’s collar to make him bend down low enough for her to take a proper look at his hair. Gabe bore being manhandled with a wry, nostalgic smile on his face.
“Right, rules!” Max clapped his hands, catching their attention. “I’m supposed to explain the ground rules so the Lord doesn’t get offended. It’s generally just that if you think doing something would be impolite, don’t do it. No poking into rooms you aren’t explicitly told you can go into, no skulking about, and don’t use magic that’d be impolite. Primarily, I’ve been told to avoid divination, scrying and ‘anchor’ or ‘beacon’ type spells, whatever those are. You’ve been whitelisted on the Wardstone so you could cast those spells, but you really shouldn’t because the Lord will know and he is … Well, from what I’d gathered he has a rather medieval view of justice.”
“He?” Mia asked curiously, catching the most interesting bit of information. Uncle Max seemed to know things about this mysterious Lord.
“So I’ve been told.” Max snorted, then shook her head. “I suppose I should fill you in on how we ended up here. Well, long story short, he saved our lives when the world went mad, and monsters started flooding the woods we were hiking in. He declared that since he saved our lives, our lives were his and that we’d put them to use by filling in as his ‘minions’. He’s had us do chores mostly, keep this place somewhat neat by doing what little the wards don’t do by themselves.”
“He’s also had us train and fight monsters,” Emma piped in, the wild smile plastered on her childish face looking distinctly eerie. “Apparently, ‘weak minions reflect badly on the master’ or something. Not that we were in much danger; he’s a bit overprotective of us, in his own weird way. He’s a big softie unless you piss him off.”
“Must you?” Max asked with a long-suffering sigh. “You know he can always hear us.”
“He’d have said something if he minds it,” Emma replied with a carefree shrug. “So! Come along, let me show you around! I’ll point out the parts of the Lair that are off-limits, and also the ones that are super off-limits, though assume anything is off-limits unless expressly told otherwise, m’kay?”
“You’re … happy here?” Mark worked up the courage to ask once they set off towards the large gates. “You aren’t treated as slaves, right?”
“It gets a bit boring sometimes, but it’s not like the outside world is as safe as it once was,” Emma said, her voice turning more sombre. “The Lord said he wouldn’t mind us wandering about once we can get through the forests on the surface without a single scratch. Until then, we stay here, we train, we study, we kill monsters he lures in, and we do his chores for him.”
“Have you actually seen him before?” Gabe finally asked, though he sounded wary.
“Nope,” Aunt Emma said, shaking her head. “Just that freaky ghost form of his, which I know isn’t the real him. I’m not even sure what he is, though the terms he uses give me ideas. The one time I asked, he just gave me a blank stare … I think. It’s hard to tell when he has no face, or eyes. It was pretty freaky. Maybe he’s a spirit bound to this place or something.”
“A spirit would have died during the mana drought preceding the breaking of the Realm Barrier,” Gabe mused. “Ghosts, apparitions and other undead would have lasted a bit longer, the types that could feed on people instead of magical energies at least. But still, any fully magical being should have died during the last century. I’ve been told the 20th century was not merely a mana drought, but a void where magic and the supernatural were actively being suppressed.”
“Couldn’t he be like you?” Mia asked. “Someone spirited away by the System?”
“It should have been logistically impossible for anyone to get to Rank 4 in just five short years, at least from what I know,” Gabe said, looking thoughtful. “Maybe if he was taken in by a Royal Beast Clan or the Eternal Emperor himself, then spoon-fed the best Natural Treasures in existence, then led through Rifts without rest. Maybe then. But that still wouldn’t really explain him practising the Old Ways … though, maybe it would. Only the oldest Beast Clans of the Beast Realm, some ancient monastic orders and the Spirit Courts practice them, from what I know.”
“You’ve mentioned these ‘Old Ways’ before,” Mia said, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“It’s kind of like a … you know what ancient Greek Xenia laws are, right?” Gabe asked, and Mia nodded after a moment, very faintly recalling the term and its meaning. It was their version of the ‘Guest Rights’, supposedly enforced by Zeus himself. The code required hosts to provide food, shelter, baths, and gifts before asking the guest's name, while guests were expected to be gracious and non-abusive. She surprised even herself by recalling that much detail about it; then again, she also remembered having to write an incredibly annoyingly long essay on the topic of 'ancient Greek culture' back in high school. Strong emotions made memories linger longer, in her experience. “It’s a bit like that. The Law of Hospitality is probably the most significant part of it, as are the Laws of Invitation and Oathkeeping. Other than that it’s a bunch of smaller things. Respect the dead, always acknowledge debts, never thank a Fae, do not take what is not offered, be respectful to strangers, respect sanctuaries and sacred sites … I think that’s it? The most important bits at least.”
“And you are protected by the Law of Hospitality so long as you do not break it. The rules there are simple enough: never steal, never spy where you are not invited, never insult the host or their home, don’t ask for more than what is offered and never bring violence into the household,” Uncle Max added, then shrugged when a pair of curious gazes turned to him. “The Lord lets us read from his library, parts of it anyway, and I have nothing better to do with the majority of my days here. I’ve read more books this past month than in the last decade before it.”
“There is a library down here?” Mia perked up, looking around with a curious glint in her eyes as they walked down a well-lit corridor lined with strange torches. Her eyes caught on them, or rather, on the still flames they burned with. It was like someone had frozen a flickering flame in place, or hit pause on a video of a burning torch. It was strange, but it cast a steady, warm light no worse than any electric lamp she knew. “And he lets you read from it?”
Her mind caught up with her a moment later, and she swiftly doused her enthusiasm. Uncle Max had just said that she wasn’t supposed to ask for more than what their host had offered them, so likely she wouldn’t be seeing the library … unless it was one of the places this Lord expressly permitted them to visit, though she very much doubted that to be the case. Not that silly rational thoughts like that managed to stop her from hoping for it all the same.
“Yes,” Max said, glancing back at her with an amused smile. “He’s old, or just a hoarder, but there are a lot of things scattered about. Part of our chores are made up of trying to get them in some measure of orderliness.”
“And you’re fine with that?” Mark asked haltingly. “Doing chores for someone like that?”
“I think of it as our way of paying for the rent and other amenities here.” Max shrugged his thick shoulders lightly. “It’s much better than being dead, that’s for sure. It’s … it would be a lie to say this isn’t weird, and even more so to say that we weren’t freaking out for the first few days, but we are fine now, no need to fret over us. Once we got used to it, we realised how lucky we were that he found us. We’d be monster chow otherwise. But enough about us Mark, tell me about yourself instead, how have you been? How did you get through this … mess?”