-[Chapter 016]-

With thunder and lightning Basil appeared within the summoning circle of the teleportarium. The blue blots of energy that heralded his arrival shot across the floor and merged with the magic runes surrounding the platform, safely discharging the leftover arcane power into the grounding cables.

The lightning struck two more times as Scarlet appeared on the platform next to Lord Doom, followed by Elnora. The three of them then gathered next to the exit of the teleportarium chamber and waited for the door to be opened from the other side.

Basil fixed up the sleeves of his jacket, straightened the mantle on his back and checked the rings on his fingers. Compared to the rather modest set of gear he had used when fighting the twins, the dungeon keeper now wore an outfit that few emperors could afford. The black and red cloth of his garb was woven from the silken death shrouds of a hundred cursed kings. The gemstone socketed buttons of his jacket were no mere trinkets, but, rather, soul stones—arcane charms imbued with elemental resistances and defensive runes. Likewise, the rings on his fingers were enchanted artifacts of the highest caliber. While wielding them, Basil could literally kill a low level opponent with one finger and raise the corpse as an undead servant with another.

One could buy an entire kingdom for the price of what he wore for his journey today. It was not because of some sense of vain desire to impress that Basil had chosen his gear for his visit to the Nine Hells. Armed and armored with the finest of magic artifacts, the dungeon keeper was ready for the possibility that one of his own kind would challenge him to a duel—a test of might and magic, issued over matters of honor, reputation or the simple desire to kill their competition. With very few exceptions, the dungeon keepers were the most powerful creatures in the Nine Hells and they were known to harbor little love for their peers.

“Stick close to Scarlet,” Basil told Elnora. “She is here to protect you.”

Scarlet looked down at her ward through the slit in her helmet’s visor. “There is only so much that I can do to prevent your death if someone starts casting top tier magic,” she told the succubus.

Elnora’s expression visibly sank, but she nodded to confirm that she understood her situation.

“If I tell you to run,” Scarlet continued, “then don’t ask stupid questions. Just run for cover. We will find you after the battle is over.”

The Red Paladin drew her blade to inspect it. Even in the dusk of the dormant teleportarium chamber Scarlet’s weapon shone with a low blue light—a surefire sign of its enchantment. She was dressed head to toe in plate armor. Colored blood red and adorned with magic seals and scrolls of incantation, her equipment looked top of the line and decidedly holy.

“The outer districts are crawling with thugs and fools who have nothing to lose, so there is always a chance that someone might try to press their luck,” she said. “The Young Master and I can withstand anything that they can throw at us, leaving you as my only concern. I know that you are used to fighting aggressively, but if we are forced into a confrontation with the local rabble, your best course of action would be to hide behind my shield maidens. Do you understand?”

Elnora nodded vigorously.

Scarlet approached the door and knocked three times. The doorway was opened from the other side and two kith minions welcomed the arrival of the dungeon keeper. The shield maiden bowed towards Basil and Scarlet in equal measure, but the ranger shunned the Red Paladin and bowed directly towards Lord Doom.

“Are the premises secured?” Scarlet asked.

The ranger was quick to answer. “They are, Lady Scarlet,” he said. The man was dressed in coal black leather armor and carried a longbow slung over his back. A one-handed blade of elvish make hung from his belt, to be used for close encounters in combination with the dagger that was holstered at his lower back.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Scarlet asked the other minion—a woman dressed in plate armor and with a crimson cloak at her back. On both, her shield and cloak, was drawn a white rose with large thorns sprouting forth from its stem.

“Yes, Master,” the female warrior answered. “The premises have been secured to your satisfaction.”

Basil stepped forward and dismissed the minions with the wave of his hand. “If we are quite safe, then proceed with the dismantling of the facility,” he ordered.

When they emerged from the teleportarium chamber, Elnora found herself standing in a decrepit hallway. It was not the common sight of a Guild teleportation facility, but rather that of an abandoned warehouse. The arcane conduits that powered the teleportation ring ran along the walls, connecting to a power source somewhere deeper within the building. There were signs of recent maintenance on the arcane cables and the teleportarium platform they were connected to—quite a lot of effort for maintaining something that would only ever be used once.

“Where are we?” Elnora asked.

“This is an abandoned cargo handling facility just outside the walls on the fringes of the 9th Hell,” Scarlet answered. “We use such sites to travel to the Nine when we don’t want to be tracked by the Guild or the other dungeon keepers.”

Elnora seemed genuinely surprised by the statement. “I did not expect a non-Guild facility to be able to operate this close to the headquarters,” Elnora remarked. “I was under the impression that they could intercept such attempts at infiltration.”

“There are a lot of things that the Guild won’t admit to,” Basil explained. “One of them is how ineffective their countermeasures become the further you are from the Inner Districts.” The Dungeon keeper adjusted his bracelets. “This far out from the island’s center we are free from the prying eyes of their informants. On the flipside, there are no Guild enforces here to keep the peace, so our security is on our own hands.”

“Are we really in danger when traveling the Nine?” Elnora asked. She gestured offhandedly at the twenty minions that stood guard throughout the chamber. They were the servants of Scarlet and Schwartz; armed, armored and ready to lash out at a moment’s notice. “Who in their right mind would want to tangle with a party that is so heavily armed?”

“You haven’t made powerful enemies for yourself in the Nine Hells yet, have you?” Scarlet asked.

Elnora shook her head in denial.

“Well, I have,” Basil said. The dungeon keeper beckoned her to follow him down the hallway. “Let’s just say that there are more than a few powerful individuals here that would like to see me dead. Through no fault of my own, I should add. It’s just how the system works if you’re a famous enough dungeon keeper.”

Elnora furrowed her brow in apparent confusion. “I haven’t heard about any feuds concerning your House,” she noted. “Why would the other dungeon keepers seek to challenge you?”

“I didn’t choose to antagonize any of them,” Basil explained. “See, when my father disappeared, I inherited not only his wealth and name, but also his competition. The Guild might have been pleased by the survival of my House, but the other dungeon keepers—well, let’s just say that they were not exactly hoping that my House would discover an heir to the throne before we were struck from the charters. Once I took my place as the new master, I became an obstacle to others on the path to glory.”

Basil glanced down at his apprentice. “You should keep that in mind, if you want to become one. You will make enemies, no matter how hard you try to avoid it. Worse still, some dungeon keepers may take your diplomatic advances as a challenge or an insult.”

“But you are not your father,” Elnora reasoned. “Why would they go after you?”

“I am the continuation of my father’s legacy,” Basil explained. “For all intents and purposes, I am House Doom. It is the bloodline that defines a House.”

He looked to his apprentice. “Tell me, have you ever visited the Guild’s Hall of Fame?” he asked.

Elnora nodded.

Basil raised his hand and signaled for the party to halt. They had arrived at the exit. Beyond the doorway spanned a desolate city street. It was enclosed on both sides by large stone buildings. It looked like an industrial quarter or, perhaps, an abandoned market street. There was not a single soul in sight, but Basil remained cautious.

“The name of my House—von Doom—is currently still at the top of many a list in that Hall of Fame,” Basil explained. He gestured for the party to advance out into the street. “For an ambitious dungeon keeper, a spot on any of those lists is the highest of rewards. Some Houses have been trying to get their names listed for centuries, but they have been unable to overcome the records set by their betters. Thus only one option remains to those who cannot outshine the legends of the past—the only way to remove a House from the listings is for it to perish. There is no room in that Hall of Fame for failures and a house that is dead is a house that has most definitely failed.

“Now, since House von Doom still stands, so do our accomplishments. And there are many who would like to make room for themselves on the leader boards by erasing us.”

The party left the abandoned cargo facility behind and made their way down the abandoned streets of the outer district towards what looked to be an open plaza of sorts. The minions moved quickly, scouting the path ahead for any signs of danger—Scarlet’s shield maidens along the walls; Schwartz’s rangers from rooftop to rooftop.

Basil once more ordered a halt. “Wait here for a moment,” he said and approached the edge of the plaza that now spanned before them. It was strewn with rotten market stalls and heaps of garbage.

Having observed the plaza for a moment, the dungeon keeper decided that it was safe to proceed. He raised his hand towards the sky to cast a spell that would signal his position to the Admiral’s forces.

Two magic flares, one blue and the other green, shot forth from Basil’s fingers and trailed off into the red sky of the Chaos realm. It was currently daytime in the Nine, but there was no sun or clouds to be seen. There was, in fact, no weather whatsoever in this extra-dimensional place. The Nine Hells were unlike any other realm in that regard.

“I have been trying to claim a spot for myself in the Hall of Fame for some time now,” Basil told Elnora as he returned. “But no matter what I do, I find that my father has already set the margin for success. You cannot beat a man who was the first to achieve perfection. Anything after that is just a tribute, really.”

The hulking dungeon keeper took a deep breath and sighed. Still, he did not mope, but instead managed to crack a smile at the expense of his own misery. “He has left me with everything,” Basil said. “Everything, but the chance to surpass him…”

The succubus pondered Basil’s words for a moment. “Then maybe you should stop following in your father’s footsteps,” Elnora suggested. “Don’t waste your life on trying to be someone else.”

“We are who we are,” Basil answered. “Some things we get to choose and some are decided for us. I was born and raised to be his heir, so the expectations had been set long before I came to rule my House.” He shrugged. “I cannot discard my fortunes, given how few can claim to have been offered the kind of opportunities that I have. For who would I be without the legacy that I cary?”

Elnora looked up at Basil with hopeful eyes. “You know, we can always strive to become something more than fate prescribes for us, unshackled and all that...” She had a few more things she wished to say to him, but their conversation was cut short by a warning shout, delivered by one of the sentries.

“Ship incoming!” the ranger yelled from the rooftop.

True to the minion’s word, a sloop sized ship—an armed patrol craft, but nowhere near as large as a ship of the line—soon appeared over the city skyline. It had two masts and shimmering white sails not only on top of the wooden craft, but also reaching out sideways form the hull. It was an astral sailing ship, made to navigate the vast expanse of the Astral Sea that surrounded the Nine Hells.

Scarlet noted the colors flying atop the ship’s aft mast. “That’s the Admiral’s flag.” Remaining cautious, she signaled for her warriors to for a defensive line in front of Lord Doom, just in case it that it turned out to be some sort of a ploy. Meanwhile, the minions of Schwartz set themselves up in over watch positions in the buildings surrounding the plaza.

In a short while the ship had descended low enough that its hull almost touched the rooftops. Once it was lined up for landing amidst the broken market stalls, it folded in its shimmering wings and braced for the touchdown. While it closely resembled a sailing ship in design, the bottom of the craft was clearly made for landing on flat surfaces, which rendered it fit for sailing only the calmest of waters, should it ever need to do so.

Elnora jumped in surprise as the sound of gunfire echoed through the plaza. Several steel anchors were fired through the walls of the surrounding buildings from the ship’s boarding cannons.

Scarlet scoffed at the sight of the frightened succubus. “They are just looking to fix the craft in place,” she explained.

Once the mooring lines had been secured the ship was slowly pulled down to the ground by its crew. They used the steel tethers that were connected to the anchors for directing the hull amidst the narrow opening of the plaza to avoid striking a house along the way.

As the hull touched the ground, half a dozen sailors jumped overboard and landed gracefully on the stone pavement below. Elnora immediately noted that they were heavily armed. Several of them carried flintlock muskets while others held pistols and swords at the ready. None were clad in any armor, save for what little protection was provided by their loose clothing.

“Gunpowder weapons,” Scarlet growled. “Shields up!”

Scarlet’s minions raised their shields in response to the perceived threat and moved to tighten the defensive perimeter around Basil. With their swords braced over their shields, they glared at the approaching sailors, ready to charge them at the first sign of aggression.

The crew of the ship seemed to take notice of the hostile posture adopted by the red paladins and slowed their approach. A lone figure emerged at the head of the pack of sailors. The young man holstered his flintlock pistols behind his belt before approaching the dungeon keeper.

Scarlet stepped forward and placed her hand on the pummel of her sword, ready to draw it. But she was ushered aside by Basil as he waltzed right through the defensive line of her maidens, towards the sailors standing in the open plaza.

As the two representatives met in the field in-between their comrades, the sailor immediately got down on one knee before the dungeon keeper and bowed his head. “Lord Doom!” he shouted boisterously. “On behalf of Admiral Razazil, I welcome you to the Nine!”

“Rise, sailor,” Basil commanded.

The brash youth complied. He rose to his feet and presented himself to the dungeon keeper with his chin raised high and chest pointed forward. As his long brown hair settled behind his head, the man was revealed to be a dark elf—almond skinned in comparison to his usually pale cousins. His kind most often hailed from desert worlds where the land was parched and vegetation scarce. The hardships they experienced made his species fierce, as they had to fight constantly to defend their sacred groves from those who would seek to despoil them.

There was a glint of desire in Elnora’s eye as her inner most nature awakened at the sight of the strapping young man. She made an effort to advert her gaze form the confident leader of the ship’s crew. That was her curse as a succubus, to forever contend with her carnal desires in the presence of such alluring people.

“The boarding ramp will be lowered momentarily, My Lord,” the sailor announced. “Please, excuse the inconvenience of having to wait for a while longer. The ship needs to be secured to the ground first.”

Basil examined the young man standing before him. “What is your name, sailor?” he asked.

“Ivar Razazil,” the man answered and bowed his head. “At your service, Lord Doom!”

“Razazil?” Basil asked. “The Admiral is dragon-kin. How did you come by his name?”

“Life in the fleet is not shared among strangers, but family, My Lord,” Ivar answered. “We are all brothers and sisters under his flag, and the Great Admiral has honored me by naming me his son. Among a few others…”

“You are an interesting specimen,” Basil noted. “Mind if I take a closer look?”

The sailor grew tense, but did not resist as the dungeon keeper grabbed him by the shoulders and raised him up so as to better examine him.

“A strong dark elf bloodline,” the dungeon keeper noted as he inspected the young man. “Any mixing of blood?”

“Eh, one of my—great grandparents was—a half-elf,” Ivar stuttered through the examination.

“It does not seem to have diluted your racial affinity for magic,” Basil continued, “a body built for agility, but not at the cost of strength. With the right training you could go far,” he concluded.

Ivar could do little other than to smile awkwardly as the dungeon keeper appraised him like some curious commodity.

“A shame that Razazil would never let me have you,” Basil said. “You exhibit the traits and confidence of a good leader in the making.” The dungeon keeper snuck a glimpse at the rest of the crew. “Are you the captain of this vessel?” he asked. Basil then gently lowered the man back down to the ground.

“Acting captain,” Ivar answered as he moved to straighten out his white blouse. “But, fate willing, I will command a ship of my own someday soon.”

A pair of golden throwing dice on a string had fallen out of his blouse during the inspection. Ivar swiftly tucked them back in before they had drawn too much attention from Basil’s minions.

The dungeon keeper gave the acting captain a nod of courtesy. “Then I wish you a long and fortuitous career, young pirate. I will be looking forward to hearing of your exploits in the decades to come.”

Ivar nodded in return.

To a loud thud the ramp of the ship was finally lowered. The vessel had finally been made ready for convenient boarding.

Ivar gestured towards the ship. “If you would please follow me onboard, My Lord, we could set out for Port Malus at your earliest leisure.”

Following Ivar’s invitation, Basil and his group climbed up the ramp. Once the last of the guests had boarded, the vessel detached the anchors and gently rose up into the sky.