Chapter 44

Red Sands Desert, Principality of Rebirth.

Dungeon Factory, Fortified Stronghold Alpha.

Alexandra slowly nodded as she looked around. This would do, for now.

Currently, she was in what she had dubbed 'Fortified Stronghold Alpha', or FS-A. Emilia had found the designation funny, but fortunately Alexandra had always put iteration numbers or letters on everything, even when they were supposed to be one-of-a-kind prototypes. It was fortunate because Alexandra had no intention for this to be the only fortified stronghold in her dungeon, and she rather doubted that her advisor would approve. At least not for what she planned to do with those strongholds.

Not that it was that much of a stronghold yet. Stronghold alpha was located in the set of rooms she had cut off from the rest of the dungeon altogether, and purely and simply sealed off, that lead to the concealed stairs/elevator shaft leading down into whatever the hell the Sagitarius Empire had seen fit to conceal under the mesa.

The main way she'd convinced Emilia to approve the project, let alone help her with it, had been to convince her that defending the entrance was necessary -and to be fair it very much was-, especially if something down there decided that they were intruding on imperial property and needed to be dealt with, like the golems that she had absorbed and now formed the bedrock of her entire dungeon. But she'd also argued that they needed more storage space for newly created golems in the logistic hub, and Emilia had readily accepted that as well. Fortunately, the vampire girl wasn't exactly good at logistics -or that interested in them yet-, or else she'd have noticed she was being bullshitted big time. The warehouses Alexandra had built (and surreptiously expanded from time to time when she reassessed her plans for the future) were very, very big. In fact, they were now large enough to house an entire division of golems, and enough supplies for them to operate for, say, a few months cut off from their base of operation. Which, strangely enough, appeared to be long enough to reach the cities on either side of the wasteland and reduce them to ashes. In theory, at least.

She would have preferred a dry-dock with a battleship set to operate completely autonomously basically forever, like the Indian-Oceanian Commonwealth Starfarer-class battleships, to scour the world for her lost party and the bastards that had killed her, but she was realist enough to realize that wasn't going to happen. Yet at least. So she needed to shoot towards realistic goals for now. Plus, having surface intervention capabilities would broaden her options considerably if things were to go sideways, even if she wasn't using them as a test bed for something much, much larger.

In any case, the 'stronghold' was currently a grand name for what was essentially a few dozen golems standing around behind vague fortifications. She wasn't an expert in medieval fortifications, especially not ones fought in an enclosed environment. France had a lot of castles around, and although a lot had been left to rot after the Terran Hegemony war, and everyone began migrating to the much more hospitable, environmentally controlled hab-towers, which were basically archologies and self-contained cities in their own right, some had been preserved, and she'd studied some in history class, and even went to see one preserved under a dome. So she had a good idea of what a castle looked like, and how it did it's job, but unless she was willing to expand the rooms enough to actually build a damned castle inside it wasn't very useful to her. Actually, now that she thought about it....

TO-DO LIST UPDATED.

Thank you, magitech.

In any case, she had basically stacked sandbags, then put some scorpios behind them, accompanied by modified Legionnaires Mk3s with longer spears, almost pikes really, backed up by some Royal Marksmen, although given the price tag she had been pretty sparse on the latter. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing, and hopefully they would at least delay whatever the hell came up from the depths of this place. She'd also dug a tunnel to the logistic hub, and fortified it as well, carefully setting up heavy blast doors on either end and setting some strategically placed charges in the ceiling, to collapse the entire tunnel if it came down to it. Convincing Emilia that those were a necessity had been a bit harder, but since she had proven such security measures could be dismantled and moved elsewhere, the vampire girl had eventually caved in. She couldn't technically stop Alexandra of course, but she didn't want to have her advisor sulk...plus she needed her help. Not that the vampire girl pouting would make her fold like a paper bag or anything.

Alexandra shook her head, and smiled.

"Well, now that this is done, I believe it's time to get back to the workshop." She rubbed her hands together. "Time to finish the Second Floor."

No one answered, but Alexandra could feel Jared's...approval? She thought it was approval, and smiled at the golem, before walking through the tunnel to the logistic hub.

*****

"You have got to be kidding." Simply said Allya.

Anders winced, and shrugged.

"I'm afraid not ma'am."

"Gods preserve us from idiots." Said Pyn, and Allya nodded empathically.

The problem they were contemplating right now was that a new convoy, a land caravan this time, had just arrived....and declined to set up shop in the dungeon town itself. They had paid all of the proper respects and everything, but it was fairly clear that they intended to operate outside of the watchful eye of her security services. Given the fact that they had arrived here surprisingly quickly, she was fairly sure their expedition had been prepared before the existence of the dungeon had been announced...and their existence hadn't been known to Elkaryos, which was odd as they had supposedly come from the Asarian Kingdom, and virtually all merchant caravans went through Darthar. And, Allya had checked, was surprisingly not in any of the kingdom's records. So smugglers, or at least a merchant caravan with very sketchy details.

The 'setting up outside the town' part was probably a knee-jerk reaction on their part, wanting to avoid an inspection of their goods or whatever, but quite frankly Anders barely had the manpower to check what was put in warehouse storage, he didn't have the time or people to search the actual holds of the ships docked in the city. As long as they didn't make waves, they were left alone, and although Allya was privately sure some smuggling was going on, it was small scale operations, probably made by individual ship officers, and not sponsored by the captains themselves. Yes, she was aware of some of them. No, she wasn't going to report them. She had delivered some warnings however, as well as some bribes. She would have dispensed with the latter usually, but she had really needed a refill of her poison stocks, and even Ellyana didn't have some of the more...exotic concoctions she used. Mostly because they were made by the weapons division of McGenk, McGenk & McGenk, and, well....that corporation had an interesting reputation. Being founded and lead by 3 crazy necromancers was one thing, but having those same necromancers actively on the wanted list of half a dozen nations was another.

The one thing she couldn't condone however was them trying to operate outside of her effective authority. The problem was that she would only stretch Anders' men too thin if she tried to guard them as well. So in the end, she'd decided to extend an offer to them. Come inside the mesas, set up a bit away from the town itself, and their cargo will only be inspected if it is offloaded. And Anders had just announced their refusal.

"Well. It's obvious that they intend to be...stubborn about this. Very well. Captain, withdraw all of your men from their camp. And start drawing plans for a full scale assault."

Anders and Pyn froze. Hell, even Valker stopped breathing for a second.

"Excuse milady, but...could you repeat that?" Slowly said Anders, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying.

Allya smiled nastily.

"I said, start drawing up plans for a full scale assault on the caravan's camp, and briefing officers and NCOs. Oh, I don't expect it will come to that, but they will know what we are preparing for...Besides, I don't expect to actually use that plan to attack them. They don't seem to have any experience in actual wasteland expedition, the stationary kind. Despite what most people think, the creatures that dwell in these dunes aren't stupid. If they see an easier food or essence source...they'll go for it."

Pyn winced.

"You're using them as bait. You want them to get hit by a monster attack...and then have us ride to the rescue?"

"Precisely. And if they believe we were preparing to forcefully bring them under our protection, they'll be more amenable to a compromise, especially after a demonstration of force like that. I'll also need to talk to captain Calder about using the Alberta. And possibly talk to the Sakura's captain as well."

"I...see." Said Anders, before slowly nodded. "That's a bit convoluted, and I'll have to make sure my men don't get...overenthusiastic, and stress that it is only a last resort, so the caravan doesn't panic and launch a preemptive strike. But it should be doable."

Allya smiled, and thanked Elkaryos once again to have given her a captain of security with a working brain. Well, one for security at least, she was pretty sure the caravan wouldn't attack them first, but if they thought they were actually going to be attacked, and it wasn't probably a negotiating ploy (point being that the 'probably' would be big in their mind once negotiations came to pass), they would just pack up and leave.

"Make sure to do that captain. And even if they don't get attacked in the end." Which she highly doubted, wasteland monster attacks were starting to ramp up as more and more juicy targets offered themselves, apparently overriding the monsters' instinct to stay the hell away from Old World ruins. "We can still pressure them into further negotiations without having to actually give the order to attack."

"Right. Should I...inform the rest of the council?"

Allya shook her head. This was an internal security matter...and quite frankly she didn't trust Ellyana or Willard enough to let them in on such a plan. She would need Melia though, if only of the negotiations. Plus, she was one of Elkaryos' people, and had a vested financial interest in having the dungeon town succeed.

"Contact Melia only. And try to be discreet enough about what you are doing that the other councilors don't pounce on us immediately. I'll deal with them as they become aware that something is going on, don't worry."

Anders nodded.

"Well, in that case, I better get to it. With your permission milady?"

Allya nodded, and Anders got up and left.

Once he went through the door, Pyn shook her head.

"Are you sure this will work?"

"No. But quite frankly I don't want to lose the early business, especially if that caravan finishes its trip and ends up in the Republic. We need clients and merchants from both sides of the wasteland after all. And most importantly...would you be up for a bit of a walk? I'd like to go talk to some of those merchants. I'm interested in what some of them could tell us of the city of Erakis when they come back, if you see what I mean."

Pyn slowly nodded. Allya was talking about setting up a spy network. Or at least getting some informants.

"Of course." She smiled. "Plus, we needed to go shopping!"

Allya winced. She'd walked right into that one. But this was as good a cover as any if people asked questions. That should outweigh the inconvenience of being dragged around by her girlfriend from stall to stall, right? Right. Probably.

*****

"Major?"

Major Silvart Montuart, of the Erisian Imperial Autonomous Threat Removal Bureau, stopped mid-sentence, and turned around to face his office's entrance, where his orderly, a sergeant, was currently poking his head through the door.

"Yes sergeant?"

"Sir, Archduke Armik is in the waiting room. He wants to see you."

Silvart's eyes widened slightly. He'd known the archduke had gotten his message -although it had taken a while, couriers could be fast, but he had been personally leading an expedition to kill a particularly nasty spirit amalgam before it could threaten the fortresses-, but he hardly expected him to show up in person. Especially so fast, he must have requisitioned a courier ship to arrive in Starcore this promptly.

"Then show him in then!" He smiled to the lieutenant he had been talking to. "Sorry, Sam, I guess this will have to wait."

The lieutenant smiled, and shook her head.

"That's alright sir. I know you haven't seen him in a while. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Sure!"

Silvart looked as the lieutenant left, and nodded to the sergeant as he straightened his uniform.

"Send him in, if you please."

"Yes sir!"

The sergeant vanished, and a few seconds later the tall, greying, almost bear-like Imperial Archduke Ostrar Armik, protector of the Spirit Fields, and by the will of the Imperial Parliament and the Empress, Knight-Valiant of the Eris Empire.

Normally, people would have expected such a high ranking noble to be announced by a high ranking official, have his own introduction be formal, long and rambling, as well as have a train of assistants and guards as befitted his rank. Instead he just quickly stepped up to the major, and almost crushed his ribcage in a massive, overpowering hug.

"Sil! It's good to see you! It has been too long!" He let the poor major go, which was probably for the best given that he needed to breathe.

"It...Indeed has Ost. How are you doing?"

"Why, I'm doing very well!" Silvart could almost physically feel the edge in his friend's voice, and winced internally. "What about you?"

"I've been doing well. You came back quickly. Far quicker than I expected really."

Ostrar smiled, and Silvart almost flinched at the tension he could see in that smile.

"Well, there are some things you just need to do, or talk about, in person." Ostrar turned around, and went to a small table on the side of the office, which was currently supporting several liquor glasses, and bottles to fill them with. "Still keeping those bottles uh?"

Silvar smiled slightly.

"Hey, I'm a ATRB major, not a saint. Everyone's got their vices."

Ostrar chuckled, and Silvar relaxed slightly, as it appeared completely genuine. The archduke poured two glasses, and then handed one to Silvart (both actions which would have had some court flunkies die of apoplexy at the outrage), who gratefully accepted it, and took a sip. Dahalaka whiskey, a good choice.

"So. Is your office secure?" Said the archduke.

Silvart nodded. He asked that every time they needed to discuss off the record. The answer was the same every time of course, but it paid to be cautious.

"Of course."

"Good." The archduke sat on the edge of his desk, the heavily enchanted wood almost creaking in protest. "So, you said you had news about Allya. Tracked her down. Then let her go?"

"Yes. Given the news surrounding her, I felt that an assassination would bring too much attention."

"Good call." Silvart rose an eyebrow, and Ostrar let out a short bark of laughter. "Don't get me wrong, I'd love to see the bitch dead, but I did enter an agreement with her Majesty and her family about her fate. If I am officially traced back to her death...The Aubétoiles are an old family, Sil. Older than my own. They trace back to the Orlov Empire, although they were outlaws then. And they have...some weapons I would rather not face."

Silvart's face went blank at the not-so-oblique reminder that there were reasons the Aubétoiles was the family with the highest number of Imperial Marshalls in their ranks, ever....And consistently at least had one Knight-Valiant per generation. One of those reasons was their possession of their ancestral sword, Skyfall, the one Allya had used to kill Ostrar's daughter. The other one...was that the founder of their dynasty was also famous for creating and using an Edict of Annihilation, one of the most powerful and destructive spells known. A spell that had remained in their family's possession every since, and that no one, not even an archduke, wanted to face on the battlefield.

"But it wouldn't come to that. Her Majesty hates having her deals broken, so I'd probably lose my head before the Aubétoiles could even get to me. So good call."

"Thank you."

"Now, we just need to discuss what we do next."

Silvart winced.

"That's...complicated, I'm afraid. Any attack on her person will cause a pretty thorough investigation. We can't just send one of my agents after her, it would get traced. They're good, but even they make mistakes sometimes, and it would only take one slip up for everything to come crashing down."

"Agreed." The archduke put his head on his fist, before taking a sip on his glass, then frowning. "Why not...why not just use the people there to begin with?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"She swore fealty to the Asarian Crown, correct?" Silvart nodded. "Then the Republic must want her dead, if they can make it happen. We could...nudge them in the right direction, and maybe assist in their efforts."

Silvart winced.

"I already thought about it. Unfortunately, the Republic, and it's patriarchs and matriarchs, are too untrustworthy. I think most of them would keep proof of our involvement to blackmail us or just as an insurance policy."

Ostrar grunted.

"Point taken. In that case, there is another approach. I have some...friends, in the merchantile world. Some of them are very excited by the possibilities this new dungeon offers. I believe that I could offer them discreet enough incentives, and some political backing, in exchange for them acting in our stead. I'll make sure to have them bribe me, to make it look like this is just another day of normal vote buying business, but I'll also make sure some shenanigans happen and they get their money back."

Silvart frowned, then slowly nodded.

"That...just might work. Are you thinking of going through the merchants guild?"

"Them? Hell no! They never betray a contract, let alone one of their own, and if there's a person I want to piss off even less than the Empress it's Sseth. Her Majesty is ruthless, but bound by her duty and rules. He would cut off my head, put it on a pike, then carry it around for a month when he goes to buy groceries just for kicks. He will respect the rules of engagement if I don't go through his people however. No I was more thinking of the Sildaris Consortium."

Silvart's face went suddenly thoughtful. The Sildaris Consortium was a technology corporation cartel, and the only real, direct competitor to the Omega Conglomerate. A competition they were steadily losing to the larger group. Given their interest in gaining any advantage they could -and that dungeon looked like the perfect opportunity for them to gain the upper hand, given it's loot-, and their need for political patronage, they would be loath to betray them, and probably wouldn't even bother setting up an insurance policy. But even if they did, he had agents inside them, and could destroy it if necessary. Plus, they might just be desperate enough to take an assassination job like this in stride, as they might have already had her death lined up, although they couldn't count on it.

"That...might not be a bad idea. Let me dig a bit before committing though. Just to be safe."

"Of course. Tell me when you're ready to proceed, and I'll arrange everything. Oh, and Automne wants to know if you'd be interested to come by for dinner Sunday."

Silvart smiled. Automne was Ostrar's wife, and probably the single greatest judge of cuisine this side of the world. The chefs she helped through her patronage usually became renowned throughout the empire, at the very least.

"I would be delighted to! And I'll make sure to get you the info when I'm done. See you on Sunday?"

"See you on Sunday! And don't be late this time!"

Silvart chuckled as his friends downed his glass, and left, before looking at the files and tablets scattered on his desk. He sighed. Organizing this was going to take a while, especially since he was determined to set up some...failsafes. Just in case. The kind that Ostrar wouldn't approve.

The kind that would probably get him executed for mass murder if anyone traced them back to him.