-[Act 3 * Part 3]-

Once onboard Ivar’s ship, Basil was shown to the captain’s quarters. The room was about as cramped as he could have expected for such a small vessel. On a more valuable ship the captain’s cabin and the essential interior compartments could be expanded by stretching the space out with magic enchantment, turning it into a pocket dimension similar to how the Doom Mansion operated. But such a magic ritual was costly and, indeed, completely unnecessary for a sloop sized ship. The vessel was meant to escort larger ships, to act as a scout for the flotilla and on long journeys could resupply from them.

There was little in the way of comforts present, but Basil did notice a pair of cushioned chairs that were tucked away in the corner of the room. They were an obvious last-minute addition and looked incredibly out of place for the otherwise utilitarian cabin.

On his part the acting captain tried his best to tend to the dungeon keeper’s needs.

“I apologize for the modest accommodations,” Ivar said. “We did not expect to receive word from you on such a short notice. We had to make do with the ships we had in port at this time.

“Please,” he gestured at the cushioned chairs, “take a seat. It will take a while for us to reach Port Malus.”

“Is this a warship?” Basil asked.

“Y—yes…” the man cautiously answered. He seemed weary of a trick question.

“Then you have nothing to apologize for,” Basil said. “A luxury yacht would have drawn more attention. This ship will allow us to blend in with the local traffic. Secrecy offers its own measure of defense.”

“Of course,” the acting captain said. He carried one of the cushioned chairs over to the dungeon keeper. “As I said, it will take a while to reach Port Malus. I hope that I can assist you with whatever you might need in the meantime.”

Basil once more cast his dispassionate gaze around the room. “There is nothing here,” he said as he noted the chart lined walls. All the maps were of local ports and points of interest.

“I would rather spend the time above the deck,” Basil declared.

Ivar drew a pained breath and looked like he was about to object, but ultimately decided against trying to deny something to a dungeon keeper. It was said that minions had lost limbs for lesser offenses…

Basil noted Ivar’s unspoken objection and patted the man on the shoulder on his way out. “I will take precautions to disguise myself,” he said as he marched out of the room. “You have no power here,” Basil declared, tempering his decision to disobey the Captain’s wishes with a smile, “so you also have no responsibilities towards my safety, other than flying the ship itself.”

When the dungeon keeper emerged from the hull, he found the ship’s crew squabbling with the passengers. The hardened sailors insisted that Basil’s minions should cover themselves up with their weathered cloaks so as to better blend in with the rest of them.

The minions of Schwartz had already accepted the offer and were currently skulking in the corners, nooks and crannies of the deck where their shapes would be further shrouded by the shadows. The lavishly equipped shield maidens of Scarlet, however, were having none of it.

“I am not putting on a filthy rag, you scurvy ridden animal!” one of the women declared as she threw the coat back at the sailor.

“But you stand out way too much, miss!” the sailor pointed out. He was not wrong in his observation.

The proud paladin was infuriated by the implication. “How dare you even speak to me?” she said. “Disappear from my sight before I flay you!”

The other shield maidens observed the exchange with great amusement, themselves having already refused similar offers. But their smug expressions vanished the moment their Master appeared on the deck. The women immediately cut their chatter and straightened their postures to appear more dignified in his presence.

Basil said nothing. He simply walked up the quarreling party and examined them with a stern look.

Both the shield maiden and the sailor turned quiet. Approached by the dungeon keeper, they instinctively dropped down to one knee in a show of respect.

“Rise,” Basil ordered.

The two complied.

Basil took the weathered cloak from the sailor and placed it upon the shoulders of the shield maiden. He then pulled the cloak’s shaggy cowl over her helmet.

“Learn from the wisdom of others,” Basil commented as he walked past the rest of Scarlet’s minions. “Those who cannot adapt to the realities of the Nine Hells tend not to last long. Pride has no place here. Pretty targets make for easy targets.”

Once the dungeon keeper departed the scene the shield maidens quickly set about searching for the sailors and their ‘filthy rags’. Their Master had set the example and they were not about to argue against it.

When Basil came to the bow of the ship he found Elnora gazing over the railing at the distant city below. Schwartz was also present, but he was currently busy surveying the skyline through the use of his telescope. He was on the lookout for any signs of danger. There were several astral ships present in the skies around them—many of them far larger and better armed than their sloop with its 18 cannons—but none seemed to be on an intersecting course with their ship.

Neither Schwartz nor Elnora looked too much out of place onboard the ship. Basil himself, however, stood out like a palm tree in a pine forest.

Aware of the issue, he moved to cast an illusion spell on himself. A shroud of mist consumed him for a split second, shielding him from sight. When he re-appeared, the dungeon keeper seemed to have halved in size. He had also taken on a more demi-human appearance. While reminiscent of his bestial form, Basil now looked like a half-breed, with his non-demonic his physical traits seemingly inherited from a human or some other kith parent. He retained his set of horns, albeit much reduced in size. His skin was still red, but the facial expression of the dungeon keeper was much less exaggerated. His clothes and equipment also appeared to have shrunk down to fit his new and more modest size.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Basil announced in his natural, deep voice as he approached Elnora. “It is me.”

Elnora examined the altered appearance of her Master.

“Ask Schwartz to confirm it, if you must,” Basil said and smiled.

The grim man briefly turned away from observing the sky to give Basil a quick glance and a nod.

“I can still feel your presence,” Elnora said.

Her claim bothered Basil. He scratched his chin as he pondered her unexpected ability to suspect him.

“Must be because you have spent such a long time in my company,” he said. “Well, no matter. This spell is only meant to disguise my visual appearance anyway.”

The dungeon keeper took his place standing next to Elnora and gazed down at the distant city scape. Far below them spanned the tightly packed streets of the 9th Hell, the top most layer of the Guild’s domain. The stone and marble jungle had no real common design to it, but rather had grown organically over time as the districts expanded. The industrial zone below them was one of the many semi-inhabited sections reaching out from the center of the city. The Outer Districts were vast communities without any real government or rule of law, and as such fostered sporadic periods of growth and destitution as their fortunes waxed and waned.

In stark contrast to the chaotic reality of the Outer Districts, the Guild controlled Inner Districts were much better managed. Hidden behind massive walls, about a third of the city rose up above the rest. It was a circular formation the foundations of which stood a fair deal higher than even the highest of building in the streets surrounding it. The Inner Districts stood atop a massive plateau at the heart of the 9th Hell and Basil’s ship was currently traveling away from them.

A hundred different towers, temples, pyramids and statues grew ever smaller as the vessel brought its passengers closer to the outer rim of the realm. Protected by its massive walls and Guild laws, the high-rise metropolis that housed the Inner Districts was awash with splendor and wealth, while the endless urban sprawl surrounding it made for a sorry sight at the best of times.

“I have never seen the city from this angle,” Elnora said.

“Yes, I don’t suppose you have had much opportunity to travel by ship,” Basil noted. “Well, you are not missing out on much, really. Life onboard an astral sailing ship is far less exciting than the stories would have you believe. That is, unless you are a pirate,” he added and nodded towards the ship’s crew.

“I didn’t know that you were in command of a pirate outfit,” Elnora said. “I have never seen this flag before.” The succubus pointed to the black, red and gold flag atop of the mast. The image was that of two golden sabers crossed on a black field with three red skulls laid out at the bottom of it.

“This is not my ship,” Basil corrected her. “And these are not my minions.

“The man I mentioned earlier, Admiral Razazil, is an old friend of the family,” he explained.

“You mean a friend like Drum?” Elnora asked.

“No,” basil said. “Drum served House Doom under my father. Razazil was a business associate, but a close one at that.

“When it comes to navigating the astral sea, it is crucial to know a few good sea wolves, and old Razazil is one of the best. Perhaps you would like to make some connections during our visit?” Basil asked. “I’m sure that many of the junior captains serving under him would love to make a deal with an up-and-coming dungeon keeper.”

“I don’t know,” Elnora said. “Making deals with the astral pirates can be risky. In the Academy I was taught that they could never be trusted.”

“It is true that most of them cannot be relied on for anything but the simplest of tasks,” Basil agreed. “But Admiral Razazil is no common raider. And our relationship is that of a patron and beneficiary. I am not hiring him; I am sponsoring him.”

Elnora raised an eyebrow.

“It is called diversification of assets,” Basil explained. “I have my money working for me in several fields of trade. And in several fields concerned with pillaging trade… Piracy can be very profitable, if you bet on the right crew.

“There!” he said and pointed to the horizon where the shapes of several sailing ships came into sight. They were moored at the very edge of the city. Beyond the streets and harbors of Port Malus the district ended in an abrupt fall. The landmass that was the 9th Hell was, in fact, a floating island, surrounded by the endless red void of the Astral Sea.

“That is Port Malus,” he explained. “There are several pirate ports on these shores, but none of them quite as nasty as that one.”

“Why is that?” Elnora asked.

“Because it is in Port Malus that you will find the best pirate captains,” Basil said. “And the highest-level minions to boot. But it is no place for the weak. Only the toughest, bravest and most cunning minions end up surviving there.”

“We will be landing shortly, My Lord,” Ivar announced as he appeared on the prow of the ship.

“Ah, Captain,” Basil said and turned to facing the young man. “Can you send a communication ahead of us and tell the Admiral that I am in a bit of a hurry? It would be best if he could receive me in his quarters as soon as I arrive.”

Ivar winced. “We are still a few minutes out from the Admiral’s ships, My Lord. We should not reveal our intentions so close to the port, lest we risk someone intercepting our conversation. If there is any pirate crew looking to collect a bounty on your head or to settle a grudge, then they would still have time to mobilize their ships to intercept us.”

“Noted, Captain,” Basil said. “But I am willing to take the risk if it means saving me a few minutes. I have other business to attend to after meeting with the Admiral.”

“With all due respect, My Lord,” Ivar said. He then drew a deep breath and looked like he was about to restrain himself once more from objecting, but ultimately decided to voice his concern.

“Right now, Port Malus is not how it was when you last visited us,” he told the dungeon keeper. “We are in more danger that you might believe.”

“It is a hive of scum and villainy,” Basil said.

“Yes,” Ivar nodded. His expression warped in pain at the realization of having to press the issue.

“And there are likely to be a few bounty hunters down there more than eager to take a shot at me,” Basil said.

“Yes and no,” Ivar replied. “There are a lot of people down there willing to take a shot at just about anything right now.”

“Meaning?” Basil asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” Ivar asked. “There has been a massive influx of illegal gunpowder weaponry in the Nine Hells.”

The sailor pulled out one of his flintlock pistols from its holster.

Neither Elnora nor Schwartz took the gesture lightly. But before either of them had reacted with violence, Basil raised his hand to stop them. As he had expected, the sailor merely wished to present the weapon to the dungeon keeper for inspection.

Basil took out his dungeon keeper’s manual from beneath his mantle and opened it. He then took Ivar’s pistol and brought it close to the arcane tome for inspection.

The blank pages of the book began to fill up with information pertaining to the weapon in his hand. At first it showed nothing out of the ordinary, but when a detailed list of arcane enchantments followed the otherwise generic description of the flintlock pistol, the true power of the weapon was revealed.

“This has something called a Grooved Warp Barrel,” Basil quoted from the manual.

“The barrel of the gun has been forged and shaped within an arcane forge,” Ivar explained. “Not only does the pistol have the accuracy and range of a full-length musket, but the other enchantments increase its ability to penetrate armor far beyond the limitations set out in Guild rules.

“This weapon is illegal in the Nine Hells. And right now there are many more like it exchanging hands freely, unregulated and unchecked by the Guild’s customs.”

Ivar then fished out three round shots from his ammunition pouches—one from each—and offered them to the dungeon keeper.

Basil refused the bullets. He put away his manual and handed back the flintlock pistol.

At a glance, Basil could tell the difference between the munitions. “One is a [Frost Shot],” he said, “The other two: [Dragon’s Breath] and [Viper’s Tongue]. They are all Guild sanctioned specialty ammunition.”

Ivar tilted his head in disagreement. “Yeah, well the Guild’s artisans didn’t make these,” he said.

The Captain ran down a list as he drove his point home: “Silver bullets for the undead; from common lead for a soft target to heat treated adamantium for piercing dragon hides—there is nothing out there, living or otherwise, that doesn’t have a weakness to one kind of ammunition or another. And right now the black markets of the Nine Hells have them all in ample supply. So many creatures outside the walls of the Inner Districts now carry guns that it has become a liability not to have one.”

Elnora felt the hull of the ship grow heavier as an expression of anger dawned across the face of her Master. The vessel actually dipped midair as it responded to the weight of his raw emotion. Basil took hold of the ship’s railing with his hand and proceeded to slowly crush it into splinters as he vented his silent rage.

“Tell me,” Basil said with utmost sincerity, “has the Guild moved on this issue?”

Ivar shook his head in denial. “By the time the Guild began cracking down on the smugglers, the outer districts were already well armed and supplied. A lot of Guild Enforcers have lost their lives in these streets over the last few months as a result of the constant raids and skirmishes. And from what we have heard, this is happening all over the Nine Hells.”

“I haven’t heard anything about it,” Elnora said.

“Why would the Guild inform you?” Ivar asked. “You’re just a Guild pawn.”

Elnora was taken aback by his crude demeanor. She was of a mind to strike him over it, but the Captain seemed to have realized his mistake as he quickly moved to clarify himself.

“Pardon me, Miss,” Ivar said, “but low ranked Guild officials, such as yourself, are not told more than they need to know. Up there in that gilded cage,” he pointed to the walled off heart of the district, “there is no truth to be had, only Guild propaganda.”

“This is certainly disturbing to hear,” Basil remarked as he observed the city scape below them. “I knew that crime had generally been on the rise in the recent decades, but to think that the Guild would fail to stop an influx of banned weaponry on such a large scale...

“And you’re saying that this disobedience has spread across all of the Nine Hells?” he asked.

Ivar nodded.

Basil looked to Elnora. “What is your take on the current state of the Nine Hells?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t really know where to begin,” Elnora answered. “I only ever saw what life was like around the inner city while I was studying there. They didn’t let us mingle with the local population at all.”

“But what have you heard?” Basil asked.

Elnora considered her reply for a moment.

“It’s not so bad that the minions would turn on the Guild at large,” she said. “They still rely on their administration for most of their daily needs.”

Ivar winced in disapproval of her statement.

“—but we were told that crime had gone up due to spiking unemployment,” Elnora continued. “For some minions, especially the low-level ones, there really isn’t any other way to find work. They either end up joining a gang or try and book a contract with some pirate faction for an astral raid.”

“There is a lot of new competition for us,” Ivar agreed. “And they have shown themselves to be rather desperate at times.”

“I have heard…” Elnora said. The succubus considered the wording of her next statement carefully.

“I am not entirely sure about this,” she said, “But rumors have been going around about some of the crime syndicates offering non-Guild registered jobs for strong minions. Apparently, they have established some dungeons and raiding posts that the officials don’t know the location of. Can you imagine that—a dungeon run by a crime gang?”

“Is that true, Captain?” Basil asked.

Ivar shrugged. “I wouldn’t really know, My Lord. You should probably inquire about this issue with the Admiral instead. He has probably forgotten more about the Nine Hells that I will ever know.”

“Hmm,” Basil growled as he considered the situation. “Well, if minions are taking matters into their own hands, it would make sense for the Guild to try and become more competitive. Increasing the number of Guild sanctioned dungeons should give the idle minions something to do. It might take a while, but it will stabilize the employment situation. It would seem that the new apprenticeship program was just what the Nine Hells needed at this time.”

He looked to Elnora for affirmation, but found the succubus expressing uncertainty instead.

“You disagree?” he asked.

“I have pondered the numbers in my spare time, Master,” she said. “How many Guild listed minions do you think your current dungeon employs?”

Basil shrugged. “Four thousand,” he said, “Give or take.

“No, wait. We lost about five hundred minions combined during the attack on the core and the assault on the city, so I am going to go with three and a half thousand. Arcane constructs not included.”

“Close enough,” Elnora said. “And how many of those minions do you plan on taking along for your next invasion?”

“For an average world?” Basil considered it. “I don’t need more than a thousand. But I prefer to go with even less if possible. I find that the initial challenge is the best part of the whole ordeal.” The dungeon keeper smiled as he recalled his past adventures. “Oh, how I love the struggle of overcoming a superior force. It brings out the best in me.”

“But what do you think happens to the other minions that you discarded after a successful conquest? Elnora asked. “What is there for them to do when a dungeon keeper moves on to his next adventure?”

“Well, they return to the Guild resource pool,” Basil answered. “I believe they have a system in place to organize them for future employment.”

“Yes,” Elnora agreed, “but you are still looking at thousands of minions idling in the Nine Hells while you build up your dungeon. Even then you will hire back just a fraction of them. They are not some tools that can be set aside for such a time as they are needed, but the Guild seems to regard them in precisely that capacity.

“About a third of them are demi-humans,” she said, “And they breed. Fast, I should add. In just twenty years, they can double their populations. Triple them, if the resources permit.

“Now, the beasts and the undead are less problematic, but the Guild only bothers with registering them at high levels, so dungeon keepers tend to lose fewer of those monsters over time due to their elite status. Subtract the dead from the number of new recruits on any given campaign and they basically even out, but only if you suffer high casualties every second campaign—which you certainly don’t seem to do.”

Basil had been going along with her rambling so far, but Elnora had now come to a rather sensitive topic. Still, she bit her lip and decided to delve deeper into the issue.

“And then… there are the demons,” she said. “Oh, boy, the demons… Let’s just say that we tend to thrive in a Guild environment.” She gestured at the city below. “Half of the creatures down there either are demons, are descended from demons or are currently in a relationship with a demon. And that should not have been the case when you consider that demons usually make up only around 2% of an average world’s monster population.

“Our own campaign against Empire Solar has been so successful that we are bound to add to the Guild minion pool more than twice the number of creatures that we have lost. Even after all the initiation trials that we put them through, over six hundred new warriors, mages and other specialists have joined your dungeon. And by extension they have come under the administration of the Guild. As such, they will not be left behind.”

Basil tapped on his chin as he carefully listened to his assistant.

Elnora continued. “A competent dungeon keeper with an average attrition rate of around 20% will end up adding to the total population of the Nine Hells with every conquest he returns from. It is only when a campaign runs afoul and the losses go past 50% that more minions are lost than recruited. And I am not even touching the issue of constant population growth here in the Nine Hells.”

“I must say,” Basil admitted, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Elnora nodded. “The world that I come from has an attrition rate of over 60%. Native, non-Guild dungeons don’t thrive there. More like, they survive. Barely. But that has kept the monster demographics in check for as long as Guild has been keeping records. The Nine Hells have no such natural selection in place, outside of criminal violence. There is nothing to keep the constant growth under control.”

Basil hummed quietly as he pondered the situation. “I will need to have a chat with the Guild administration about this population issue, as well as the rampant criminal activity,” he said. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” he told Ivar and shook his hand. “I will make sure that the Guild is on the right track concerning these issues.”

“It is my duty to serve,” Ivar replied. He was about to ask something else, when a number of red flares shot up into the sky above Port Malus. Then, in the distance, a ship exploded just as it crossed the boundary of the port. The fiery debris rained down upon the city streets as the burning wreck slowly descended.

“Crap!” Ivar cussed through his teeth. “Turn the ship around, boys!” he ordered his crew.

The sailors were quick to comply and the vessel begun its turn.

“Why?” Basil asked. “What is happening?”

“That was one of our ships,” the Captain explained. “The flares were launched near our quarter of the port, but that was not one of our signals.”

“A rival group?” Basil asked.

“Very likely,” Ivar answered. “At any rate, I was told to keep you away from danger. I am sorry, but we will have to withdraw until I can get an all-clear from the Admiral himself.”

The sound of gunshots could be heard erupting in the streets below. Soon their number grew to where it was clear that the entire area was engulfed in a firefight. Bursts of flame and colorful magic popped up in the streets surrounding the ships of Admiral Razazil as his sailors engaged with the attackers in an all-out battle.

“It looks like we are out of range of their guns,” Ivar noted. “At least we can withdraw safely.”

The young Captain pointed to a set of towers in the distance. “The ships that we sent out to look for you are supposed to gather there in case of an emergency. Now that the port has been attacked, they will probably follow their orders and meet us there. With their support we should be—”

“Stay the course, Captain,” Basil said and placed his heavy hand on the young man’s shoulder as he imposed his will over him. “Take us as close to the Sea Dragon’s Roost as you can. We will walk from there on out.”

“I cannot!” Ivar protested. He squirmed out from under the hand of Basil and backed away from him.

At the snap of Basil’s fingers, the illusion spell was lifted and he turned back to his full-blooded demonic form. “Be careful, Captain,” he said. “I have enjoyed your company up until now, but…”

“I will not disobey my admiral’s orders!” Ivar declared.

Schwartz slowly turned his head and gave the stubborn sailor a murderous look. His hand slowly reached for the blade on his hip. But it was not him that made the first move.

Elnora summoned her halberd and ducked towards the terrified Captain. In one swift motion she pushed the spear tip of her weapon through the back of Ivar’s shirt and snagged him by the collar, pulling him up into the air. She then drove the spike at the bottom of the shaft into the deck, leaving the man dangling from it like a piece of butcher’s meat on a hook.

“You will take me to the Admiral now,” Basil calmly declared in the face of the petrified man. “Is that understood?”

Ivar nodded frantically.

“I am not going to waste my time sitting around because of some pirate squabble,” Basil said and walked over to the edge of the ship’s prow from where he could observe the rest of the open deck.

The dungeon keeper raised his hands up to shoulder height as he drew in the attention of all the minions present. Scarlet’s shield maidens, the rangers of Schwartz and the crew of the ship instinctively moved to line up before their superior—the prior out of loyalty, the latter out of fear of refusing him.

“Prepare for battle!” Basil ordered. “We will strike the enemies of the Admiral from the rear and drive them into his cannons! Now, set us down inside the port so that we can meet them in glorious combat!”

Scarlet stepped forward. “Master, if I may. Would it not be prudent to send some of us ahead with a teleport spell to make sure that the Admiral lives long enough for you to meet with him?” she asked.

“That would leave us divided and vulnerable to an ambush,” Basil answered. “Besides, the Admiral is a tough sea biscuit—he will survive. We just need to take the pressure off of him.”

Scarlet bowed her head. “As you command. We shall assault the enemy rear with all of our forces.” She looked to the ship’s crew as she underlined her intent. “All of them.”

The dark elf captain and his crew grumbled in response to them being pressed into service under Basil’s command, but they dared not to refuse him. At the very least they shared a common goal of assisting the Admiral.

“I came to parley with Razazil,” Basil told the crew. “And I am never late for my appointments.”