-[Chapter 023]-

Elnora watched the charred remains of the Sea Dragon’s roost slowly fading in the distance. The succubus leaned over the ship’s railing and felt her stomach turn as she measured the distance to the ground below. The astral sailing ship carried them towards the Inner District of the 9th Hell at high speed, where, according to her Master, they had a meeting with the Guild officials to attend.

“So, what do you think of my pirate associates now?” Basil asked. “Do you find them trustworthy?”

The dungeon keeper had once more donned his magic disguise. Much reduced in size, he appeared no more conspicuous onboard the pirate vessel than his young apprentice.

“They care a great deal for their own,” Elnora answered. “Such close bonds give them the strength to fight on where mere mercenaries might otherwise have faltered. The old Admiral’s crew bled their enemies every step of the way; to the bitter end.”

“But they could not have held on to the harbor without our intervention,” Basil pointed out. “Not unless they were willing to throw away their lives in a dogged war of attrition. Only then they could have prevented the enemy from gaining the foothold near the plaza that ultimately forced Razazil to retreat.”

“I understand the strategic value of the harbor,” Elnora said, “but the Admiral clearly considers the lives of his sailors to be more important than his access to Port Malus. I can’t help but sympathize with his decision to spare his crew.”

Basil grunted in disagreement. “There was much more at stake than just the harbor,” he said. “The Admiral’s notoriety, for instance, would have been greatly diminished by his defeat. It would have emboldened more of his enemies to strike at him, while the Sea Dragon’s crew sought to recover. There was a price to pay for leaving that battlefield with his ships intact.”

“I think I could guess them for myself, but could you elaborate, please?” Elnora asked.

Basil obliged the request of his apprentice. “The enemy sailors that we captured, for instance, would not have been available to feed the abilities of that little priestess. Many more lives would have been lost after the battle was over without her around to work her magic. Then there are the dozens of wounded crewmembers which were freed from captivity or pulled from the rubble. They would have all been lost to the enemy if the Admiral had retreated; lost to almost certain death or, at the very least, slavery.”

“I suppose it was a hard decision for him to make—to retreat from the harbor,” Elnora said. “I understand your point, Master, but I still think that it was the right decision to make at the time.” She shook her head. “I want to be like you: cold blooded and pragmatic… But should I really steel my heart to the plight of my minions? Is there not a middle ground?”

Basil smiled in response to her question. “Is that what you think of me?” he asked. “That I am entirely without compassion for my servants?”

“No, but,” Elnora stuttered, “back in the sick bay, you… It’s how you operate. I have seen you dismiss the lives of your minions on many occasions before. And you clearly don’t value the lives of the mercenaries who serve you.”

The dungeon keeper turned to his apprentice and placed his hand on her shoulder. He looked her in the eyes as he explained his reasoning to the young succubus. “Some lives are worth more than others,” he said. “Some minions are expendable. Others I hold close and dear to my heart.” He placed his right hand to his chest. “Yes, even I have one. And, yes, there is room for special people in it.

“As a dungeon keeper you don’t have to force yourself to disregard the lives of your minions,” he continued, “but you do have to learn to pick your friends carefully. Try as you might, you cannot save them from the whims of fate. All creatures are, by design, destined to die and you would do well to learn to befriend only those who seem like they will last the longest. That way you will spare yourself a lot of sorrow early on in your career.”

Basil counted on his fingers. “Scarlet, Schwartz, Gaia and Chronos—they are my family, and, by extension, their servants mean a whole lot more to me than all of my associates here in the Nine. I will suffer no harm done to them for as long as I remain the ruler of House Doom. But I cannot keep them locked away from the perils of combat; buried deep in my treasure vaults like some precious trinkets. They wish to serve me in a meaningful way and I have to account for the possibility of their death. Such is the master-minion relationship you should strive for. Calculate the risks, but don’t shun them.”

Five fingers and only four names—Elnora eyed the fifth finger and wondered if there was room for someone else on Basil’s list of important people.

“So, yes, a dungeon keeper can have a heart,” Basil continued. “But one cannot make wise decisions if they are obsessed with the lives of their servants. The price for such vanity is only more death and misery. Undue attachment leads to hesitation, and the more you hesitate the more like you are to lose the people that you care about.”

Basil dismissed the Sea Dragon’s implied folly with a swipe of his hand. “Razazil’s father-like posture towards his crew is the old Admiral’s greatest weakness,” he said. “And it is one that I, with my thousands of eager servants, cannot afford to entertain. I am no father; I am a master. That is why he remains comfortable commanding but a few ships worth of crew while I command entire armies.”

“So it is about managing the risks while empowering your servants?” Elnora asked.

Basil examined the priceless artifacts that were the bejeweled rings on his fingers as he reflected on his purpose for existence. “When you have so much power that entire worlds are made to bend to your will, what choice do you have but to throw your loyal minions against the fortified walls and hearts of the civilizations that you seek to destroy? How else can you show them that you truly care for their lives and accomplishments?”

Elnora nodded in agreement. She looked up at the stoic dungeon keeper with hazy eyes and questioned him further. “Then what would make you consider a minion important?” she asked. “What could I do to—”

Before Basil could answer her question, Scarlet interrupted their conversation as she arrived to deliver a report to her Master. “Lord Doom, as you had requested, I have contacted the Guild officials in charge of your flagship,” she announced. “Our course of travel has been relayed to the astral navigation tower of the 9th Hell. We can expect their arrival any moment now.”

“You are calling for your ship?” Elnora asked.

Scarlet gestured dismissively at the deck of the pirate sloop. “You didn’t think we would be arriving at the Guild HQ in this wretched little thing?” she asked. “Such ships are fit only for the dregs of the Nine, not the masters of Hell.”

“And yet, you sailed onboard one this morning,” Schwartz pointed out. The grim man appeared seemingly out of nowhere and remained at an arm’s reach of the crimson woman. “It’s almost… like you feel a constant need to validate your noble birth. What, are you afraid that Elnora here will come to see you for who you really are?”

Elnora noticed Scarlet grasping at the hilt of her sword, but their Master, Lord Doom, moved to intervene before the situation could escalate further.

“Tell me Scarlet, have you informed the good captain Ivar on what to expect?” Basil asked.

Scarlet nodded. “I will brief him now,” she answered.

Basil gestured for the hot-blooded paladin to carry on with her task. He waited until the crimson woman had departed before turning to address the instigator.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked Schwartz.

“Her attitude sickens me,” Schwartz answered. The Dark Ranger’s hawkish gaze followed Scarlet as she made her way across the ship’s deck.

“You are on guard duty,” Basil pointed out, “the both of you. How can I expect you to fulfill that role if you are constantly at each other’s throats?”

The black clad man bowed his head in apology, but offered an excuse none-the-less. “It would not have come to drawing blood,” he said. “However I insult her, she will not place her vanity above her responsibilities towards you, Master. I consider it a test of her character.”

“And yet, it places me on the edge,” Basil pointed out. “From now on I forbid you to antagonize her while you two are on a mission together. Is that clear?”

Schwartz grimaced, but nodded in reluctant compliance with Basil’s order. “Crystal clear, Master.”

“Then you are dismissed,” Basil said. “Prepare our forces for boarding the flagship.”

As the dungeon keeper turned back to her, Elnora expected to pick up on their previous conversation, but he was quick to move on from it.

“Any moment now my flagship will arrive to meet us,” Basil proclaimed as he peered towards the massive walls of the Inner District of the 9th Hell. “Once onboard, I would like for you to join me in my private quarters. There is something that I wish to discuss with you. It has to do with our future partnership.”

Elnora felt her heart skip a beat. The succubus didn’t know how to respond to the dungeon keeper’s sudden invitation. She turned away from him and pretended to be searching for Basil’s ship on the horizon. In reality she was trying to hide her blushing face.

“You won’t find it in the distance,” Basil said. “We are far away from the Inner District right now, that the ship will carry out a tactical jump directly over to us.”

The succubus turned back to facing the dungeon keeper. Her lustful expression had been replaced by one of bewilderment. “Your ship has a dungeon core powering it?” Elnora asked.

“Of course,” Basil answered. “How else could I keep the giant thing from falling out of the sky?”

As if on his cue, a vessel of ebony wood, green metal and shimmering silver sails appeared alongside the sloop. To a flash of blue lightning and the crack of thunder the flagship of Basil’s fleet had arrived. Its sudden appearance left the crew of the tiny pirate vessel scrambling to avoid collision. Truth be told, they didn’t really need to change course, but their proximity to the giant ship made them take extra precautions, just in case.

“Feast your eyes upon the flagship of House Doom,” Basil announced as he presented the ship to his apprentice. “This is my dreadnought, Harbinger of Doom. Or, as I like to call it,” the dungeon keeper cracked a smile, “the Doom Boat.”

Basil’s ship, the Harbinger of Doom, stood at impressive four gun decks tall and, with the web of adamantium hull supports bracing its hull, managed to surpass Ivar’s sloop more than ten times in overall length.

“Six hundred cannons,” Basil announced, “set in triple barrel mounts, cycling through in rapid succession. A single volley from her broadside has made mincemeat of krakens and unlucky pirate ships alike.”

Elnora held witness to a shadow passing over her. As she looked up to search for its source, the succubus found the port side sails of the giant vessel looming over them like the scales of a silver-backed dragon. All work onboard the sloop ceased as the pirates gawked in amazement at the sight of the dreadnought passing at once over and next to them.

The Succubus noted the numerous sailors scrambling about the rigging and catwalks as they sought to pull in the shimmering astral sails of the flagship. Dozens of crewmen could be seen tending to the glistening silvery fabric, and this was only on one side of the ship. The need for speed had driven the designer of the ship to scale up the masts and rigging to a point where the crow’s nest was no longer a mere basket for a lookout, but a cabin with windows and a separate ladder for access.

“How is this thing even holding together?” Ivar asked. The acting captain of the pirate sloop looked on in disbelief at the titanic vessel before him. His bravado dispelled, the dark elf stood with his shoulders slouched forward and jaw agape in the presence of the dreadnought.

“It took some forty years to build it,” Basil explained. “Many worlds were pillaged. Hundreds of sacred elven groves harvested and a thousand dwarven mountain holds raided for their precious resources. Only the best materials were used and, thus, the best ship was created. Among the thousands of dungeon keepers that serve the Guild only a few can claim to be in possession of a dreadnought. And none are equal to the Harbinger of Doom.”

“To oversee the construction of such a marvel of a ship must have felt like destiny calling,” Ivar said. “I can’t imagine the pride you must feel for this accomplishment!”

For the briefest of moments the dungeon keeper’s expression twitched in anger, but he was quick to suppress that emotion. “Not mine…” Basil said. “But I am the one who owns it now. So, yes, this is a testament to the power of my House; to my… legacy.”

Basil drew the attention of the dark elf captain with the snap of his fingers. “The day might come when I will require a new captain for it,” he said. “He would need to be a man without fear or… split loyalties.”

Ivar straightened himself out and met the dungeon keeper’s challenge with determination in his eyes.

Basil slowly nodded, reaffirming his intentions. “Fight tooth and nail for your chance to captain a ship, Ivar Razazil. A time might come when I will call on you. Don’t let the old Admiral stand in the way of your destiny. He has already fulfilled his role in it.”

The dark elf captain saluted the dungeon keeper and set off to rally his crew. He was yet to deliver Lord Doom to his personal ship and Ivar was determined not to slip up at the last moment.

The sloop drew closer to the dreadnought for boarding. Instead of a ramp being lowered to greet them the pirates found a crane being turned, extending something more akin to a bridge. Once the wooden ramp was hanging over the pirate vessel, two marines, clad in Guild issue armor, jumped down to assist with fixing it in place. Ivar’s crew scattered to allow for the marines to do their work unimpeded.

Elnora commented on the presence of Guild troops. “I though the ship would be manned by your minions,” she said.

“Appearances aside, they are under my command,” Basil answered. “My household largely keeps to the Doom Mansion. I call on the expertise of the Guild to oversee the Harbinger when she is not needed.

“Truth be told, outside of ceremonial duties, she has not seen action in a few years, so to crew it with my best minions while the ship sits in port would be a waste. I only ever leave a skeleton crew behind to supervise the Guild minions.”

Now that the ramp was firmly affixed to the sloop, a detachment of ten Guild marines and an officer came onboard to welcome the dungeon keeper and his entourage. Their red and black uniforms had the traditional sharp cut of Guild apparel, but were reinforced with padded armor and plates of metal to cover the most vital areas. They were not the old fashioned full-plate cuirasses of Razazil’s marines, but, rather, more ergonomic versions that served the same general principle. The armored plates covered only the chest and back with leather straps holding them together around the torso. They wore helmets with open faces and carried shortened flintlock rifles, intended for combat in confined spaces, such as below a ship’s deck. For melee they wore short sabers on their belts that could, in a pinch, be mounted as bayonets.

The officer lined up his men and greeted the dungeon keeper. “Glorious Lord Basil von Doom,” the half-demon commander said. “On behalf of the Guild of Chaos, I welcome you onboard the Harbinger of Doom. As you had requested, she has been made ready to set sail under your command.

“I am her acting captain, colonel Geer Verdaal of the 455th marine division. What are your orders, My Lord?”

Basil dismissed him. “At ease, colonel. Take us to the Guild’s headquarters in the 9th Hell. I have an appointment with the Lord Administrator.”

“The Lord Administrator?” the colonel asked as if to make sure that he had heard Basil correctly. “Oh, well then… As you command, My Lord!”

Basil invited Elnora to follow him onto the Harbinger. “Come, my apprentice, we should resume our conversation someplace more secluded. Before I hold my audience with the most powerful bureaucrat in all of the Nine Hells, I wish to discuss a certain deal that I wish to extend to him on your behalf. I have a feeling that you will be very interested to hear what the future might hold for you under my guidance.”

***

“I want you to know that I appreciate the work you have done for me over the past few months,” Basil said as he ushered Elnora through the door. “Your diligence in managing the dungeon—under my supervision, of course—has not gone unnoticed. And I am fairly certain that the Guild will feel the same way when they read through my reports on the fall of Empire Solar.”

As Elnora passed into the hull of the Harbinger, she found herself surrounded by a pocket dimension not that dissimilar from the Doom Mansion. The main chamber was a scaled down replica of the throne room of Basil’s dungeon. It had two rows of columns running through it, ostensibly to hold up the ceiling, which was purely a design choice, since inside the pocket dimension there was no chance of it collapsing on top of someone. There was a large throne at the far end of the room; complete with white marble steps facing the entrance, but that is where the similarities with the Dungeon of Doom ended.

“I run my operations from this chamber while out at sea,” Basil commented as they walked down the center isle of the throne room. “While the ship outside is staffed by Guild minions, this area is only accessible to the servants of House Doom. All the minions that you will encounter here report directly to me.”

The she-demon studied the workstations that were spread around the chamber as she passed them by. Plotting tables, sand maps and navigation tools took up the left part of the room, while a semi-open auditorium with space enough for a few hundred minions to attend a briefing all at once took up the right. Along the way she noted several doors with name plates that read ‘S-1’ through ‘S-9’, but those remained closed in Elnora’s presence. Even as a few servants emerged from the side rooms to greet their Master, they made sure to shut the door behind them so that the succubus couldn’t sneak a quick peek inside.

By the time she and Basil had reached the steps of the throne a small army of minions had gathered in the room to greet the arrival of their master. They wore the Guild standard uniforms of red and black, but displayed none of its insignias or rank. Each of them, however, wore a small golden pin on their left shoulder—the icon of the clenched fist and halo of their master—marking them as loyal servants of House Doom.

The minions all bowed in unison as Basil walked them by. The dungeon keeper replied with a nod.

“Carry on with your work,” he commanded. “Make ready the ship for combat. Today we go hunting for pirates.”

As the minions dispersed, Elnora noted how similar they looked to the people serving Scarlet and Schwartz, but, oddly enough, they displayed no outward hostility towards one another. If anything, their mutual disposition seemed amicable.

Basil took notice of her curiosity. “This is where I send the minions of Scarlet and Schwartz once they… become a problem for their masters,” he said. The dungeon keeper raised an eyebrow. “Can you guess what the problem is?”

Elnora more closely examined the kith servants of her Master, but found no obvious issue. They seemed untouched by sickness and old age; no obvious signs of curses or weakness could she spot. Pry as she might, nothing about these kith appeared to be out of the ordinary.

“That was a trick question. In fact, there is nothing wrong with them,” Basil revealed. “They are perfectly perfect examples of kith-kind. And that is the issue that eats away at the age old animosity between the Societies of the Rose and the Glove.”

Elnora tilted her head expressing confusion at his statement.

“Every single last one of them, beautiful, powerful and charismatic,” Basil explained, “the servants of Schwartz and Scarlet are sworn enemies, with new members even vowing hatred during their initiation. But it is hard to enforce mindless hatred between people that are destined to fight side by side. Barriers between perfect men and perfect women… inevitably erode over time.

“Do you see where I am going with this?” he asked. “The hearts of kith cannot be chained. Try as they might to repress their natural desires, every once in a while a servant will falter in their dedication to this foolish rivalry and befriend a floundering heart on the opposite side. A simple exchange of admiration in the heat of battle can lead to clandestine conversations and intimate encounters, which is why Scarlet and Schwartz go so far out of their way to keep their servants separate from one another.

Basil grinned. “But the forbidden fruit is the most tempting of them all,” he said. “It’s only natural that—”

“—they are liable to fall in love,” Elnora reasoned.

“Exactly,” Basil said. “And if such a thing comes to pass, they cannot remain with their brothers and sisters. Scarlet and Schwartz won’t let them stay out of fear that they might chip away at the foundations of the senseless bastion of hatred that separates them. It is a sad thing to realize, that to those two only their animosity and pride remain to stimulate their existence. It is their service to my House that keeps them from killing one another.”

“But why is that?” Elnora asked. “From what little I have learned, I think their quarrel goes back at least a century. Why has it lasted so long? What happened between them?”

The dungeon keeper chuckled at her estimation. “If only it was so recent,” Basil answered. “No, this goes back way further than a single century.

“If you want to know, just ask them yourself,” he suggested. “Just be prepared to hear two very different explanations of the circumstances that have brought them here. They have some very strong opinions about one another and time has done nothing to heal that rift. They were bitter rivals long before my father recruited them into his service and they have remained such to this day.”

“They are older than Drum?” Elnora asked. She recalled the beautiful, rippling physique of Scarlet from their brief encounter in the bathhouse. “How can they look so young if they are that old? Aren’t all kith races supposed to be short lived?”

“There are… degrees to humanity,” Basil said. “Their minions all share the [Elite] distinction, but otherwise are not that different from their common kin. What makes them so powerful is the curse that they willingly carry—the touch of vampirism, passed down from generation to generation by their masters. They are more kith than monsters in that way.

“As for Scarlet and Schwartz, well, some might consider the two of them to be beyond human. Then again, others might call them lesser creatures for what they have done to themselves, but that is an ignorant stance to take on the matters of magic and evolution. What cannot be denied is their power, regardless of how one might view their underlying nature.”

“So, they are actually kith?” Elnora asked. “Or are they something else at this point?”

Basil shrugged. “Level 50 [Legendary] kith, like Scarlet and Schwartz, are among the rarest of minions that a dungeon keeper might recruit. Most often kith of such pedigree are fallen heroes, lured over to serving a dungeon keeper or the Guild in exchange for some great boon or, sometimes, out of desperation. These rare individuals are equal in power with young dragons and minor elemental lords—monsters one and all—but kith can never truly aspire to reach the heights of the dungeon keepers. The universe has put in place restrictions to limit their growth at level 50, which is why the only way to advance past it is to take on the traits and curses of monsters, such as vampires or litches.

“Does that not make them monsters too?” he asked rhetorically. “I have been to worlds where such people are regarded as demi-gods instead. I suppose it depends on whom they serve. If it’s kith they fight for then they are still heroes, but if it’s me then it is as monsters.”

“But they still can’t measure up against true monsters,” Elnora pointed out. “Kith races can’t possibly go up against dragons or elemental lords the same way that you could.”

“Oh, but they most certainly can,” Basil said. “I told you before not to underestimate the kith races. They will surprise you. And they will find a way to kill you eventually, no matter how high your power level is.

“You see, their strength is not measured in raw power, like the strength of a monster is. If outmatched, kith can learn and adapt. They will find a weakness to exploit or invent a tool to overcome their foes.”

By now they had arrived at a door on the far end of the throne room. Basil opened it and led Elnora inside his private quarters onboard the Harbinger of Doom. The succubus was greeted by a sizable recreational area, complete with a bar, a pool table and a corner couch wide enough for a dragon to take a nap on.

The dungeon keeper guided her towards a fireplace in the far right corner of the room. He then sat down in a large chair—a trophy throne, from the looks of it—and gestured to a more modestly sized chair next to it to his apprentice.

Basil uttered the magic command, “[Possess],” and a whiskey bottle levitated over to them followed by two glasses. He then proceeded to pour a drink for Elnora and himself before sending the bottle back into the shelf of the bar counter. He made sure to cast a weak frost spell on the whiskey glasses before offering the drink to his apprentice. She eagerly accepted it.

Basil raised a toast. “To dungeon keeping!”

“To dungeon keeping!” Elnora answered. As the succubus placed the whiskey glass to her lips she was pleasantly surprised by the aroma.

Having emptied his glass in one swig—it was, after all, barely a shot glass for the hulking demon—Basil held it up for inspection. “This fine whiskey was pillaged from the personal reserves of an elven warlord some fifty odd years ago,” he explained. “It has been my custom to partake in it after every conquest.”

Having not yet tasted it, Elnora glanced down at the dark amber sprit in her hands. The whiskey she had so eagerly accepted now took on a greater meaning, so far so that the succubus was now hesitant to drink from it.

“I… didn’t know it was that important,” she said. “Can I really?” she asked.

Basil encouraged her. “Oh, but you shouldn’t be so modest,” he said. “You brought about the end to Empire Solar as much as I did. If nothing else, we now share a common victory.”

Elnora acquiesced and once more placed the glass to her lips. As she took a small sip from it, the succubus found a warm, dulling sensation spreading through her mouth. It was clearly no simple spirit. Whatever magic had been used in distilling the drink had greatly enhanced its potency. A whiff of the fumes and a single sip had already left her a lightheaded, so the she-demon decided not to follow her Master’s example and paced herself instead.

Basil once more summoned the whiskey bottle and poured himself a second glass. “So, about the thing that I wished to discuss with you in private,” he said as he dismissed the bottle back into the shelf. “It has to do with the apprenticeship program and your prospects for future employment.”

The dungeon keeper downed his second glass like it was water. “I am going to be honest with you,” Basil said.

Elnora was strangling the whiskey glass in her hands. “Oh, please be honest with me…” she whispered.

“In our short time together, I have come to—”

Elnora bit her lower lip out of anxiety.

“—appreciate your company,” Basil said. The dungeon keeper placed his palm on her shoulder. “I hope that I am not being too forward with the offer I am about to make.”

The succubus was starting to blush. “Not at all, Master!”

Basil smiled as he continued. “Please, you can call me by my name.”

“Of course, Lord Basil!” Elnora answered.

She was wondering if she should just go for it and reveal her intentions to the dungeon keeper in the spur of the moment. The succubus was about to speak her mind when Basil crushed her expectations as he continued.

“—a minion with your particular skillset and dedication is a rare find,” he said. “One in a million, truly.”

Elnora’s expression warped in confusion. “Eh?” The succubus now glared at Basil in disbelief.

“Such diligence in your day to day work,” Basil said, “such determination to see my plans carried through to completion! I could not possibly ask for a better companion to follow me into my life’s greatest adventure. You have proven yourself to be quite indispensible to the running of my dungeon outside the Mansion.

“There is so much more we could accomplish together! I, for one, have very much come to think of us as more than just colleagues…”

A tiny glitter of hope returned in Elnora’s expression as she listened to Basil explaining his disposition towards her.

“Again, excuse me if I am being too forward with you,” Basil said. “Know that I do not mean it lightly when I say that I have almost come to consider you as my partner.”

“A partner?” Elnora asked.

“Yes!” Basil said and clenched his fist in a passionate display of his intent. “A friend, a comrade—a partner.”

“A friend,” Elnora repeated after him.

Basil filled his third glass of whiskey before continuing. “I have an important task ahead of me. It will require my undivided attention, so I will need someone to run the dungeon for me while I am away,” he explained.

“While you are away?” Elnora asked.

Basil nodded. “Of course, I will make sure to turn up once in a while to support and guide my replacement. But, from time to time I will need to… disappear from the dungeon completely. So, I am looking for a competent manager to take over the running of the dungeon in my absence. And, frankly, I think that job should go to you.”

Elnora shrugged dismissively. “You have Scarlet and Schwartz,” she said. “I am sure that they can do a better job than me. And why would you ask this of me, anyway? I am just an apprentice dungeon keeper.”

Elnora was obviously feeling scorned by Basil’s wanton disregard towards her advances. She placed her glass to her lips as she sought to wash down the bitterness, but nearly gagged on the whiskey as she heard Basil’s response.

“Because I trust you,” he said.

Elnora coughed. “Me?” she asked as she wiped the drops of whiskey from her lips. “Why me?”

“I will be honest with you,” Basil said. “The task ahead of me is legally grey at best. The Guild will not approve of it and neither does my… family.

“I inherited both my position and my household from my father,” he explained. “I trust them with my life, but they have their lingering loyalty towards him as much as me to consider. Dead or otherwise, he still commands more respect in their eyes than I do.”

Elnora’s previous expression of indignation turned to one of compassion, as she now found herself intently listening to Basil as he opened up about the things that troubled his mind.

The dungeon keeper sighed. “Sometimes I feel as much a stranger in the Doom Mansion as you do. It is not a world that I crafted, but it is still an integral part of me,” Basil said as he placed his hand over his heart. “I am my own demon, but I am still dwarfed by the shadow of the one that came before. And I will never be able to stand in the light so long as I shy away from the flame of destiny. It burns bright and it burns hot, but I must embrace it, no matter the dangers involved.”

“What are you… going to do?” Elnora asked.

“I will go searching for what was lost,” Basil answered. “I will explore the history of my House.”

The dungeon keeper let his apprentice consider his proposal for a moment. It was an offer that, unlike his household minions, she could actually refuse.

“I am sorry for pointing out the obvious,” Elnora said, “but you do know that meddling in any way with the tabula rasa decree on your father would go against, like, so many of the Guild’s rules!”

Basil nodded.

“We ourselves could face a tabula rasa for even speaking about it!” Elnora continued. “We could be hunted down and erased from living memory if the Guild ever found out!”

Basil raised his finger. “If,” he said, “if they found out. But I have every intention of making sure that it does not happen.”

Elnora took a quick sip from her glass and immediately recoiled from its effects. “This is crazy,” she said. “You’re crazy. This drink,” she pointed to the glass, “is crazy. It’s crazy powerful. What, did they make it with dragon tears or something?”

Basil shrugged.

The succubus shook her head as she further voiced her concern. “You are completely crazy. Your Mansion, your minions,” she gestured at the walls, “your ship—it’s all crazy. These are all wonders beyond the limits of most people’s imagination, and yet you seek more?”

“For me it’s not enough,” Basil said. “As you said before—you come from nothing.” He gestured at her body, “This was all you had when the Guild recruited you. And you are burning with the desire to become something more.

“I agree with you completely—we should seek to better ourselves. But my limits were set in the high heavens from the day I was born. For you, advancement in life means climbing a steep mountain, but for me… it means learning to fly.

“I was brought into this world for a reason,” he said. “Yet I never knew what it was. The Guild took that knowledge from me when it erased my creator from all living memory. I don’t seek vengeance for it, but I do intend to find out the cause for it.

“I was brought up to take the position at the head of my House. I have climbed the Guild’s charters to where I now stand among the best dungeon keepers alive today—a position that I earned with my blood and sweat. But I never felt like I was truly deserving of that distinction. No matter how hard I tried, I never found anything that could set me apart from my peers or my father. I have purged a hundred worlds already and I could go on to purge a thousand more, but I will never overcome him for as long as I don’t know the true extent of his power or the nature of his work.

“A creation cannot outgrow the creator, if there is no way of comparing the two. And, thanks to the Guild’s verdict, now nobody knows anything about my father. We only know that he was, but nothing about who he was. I aim to change that, for the sake of my House and my own peace of mind. And if that means skirting the Guild’s laws, then I am prepared to risk it. After all, what is better in life than seeking a true challenge? Am I right, Elnora?”

Having heard Basil’s reasoning, Elnora sat quietly for a while, playing with the whiskey glass in her hand, slushing the drink back and forth. It seemed like she was seriously considering his offer.

“So,” Basil said and extended his hand towards her, offering a handshake, “Will you accept the position of a junior dungeon keeper at my side? Will you follow me into this reckless adventure of mine? I can promise you one thing—another chance like this you will never see again.”

A frail smile dawned across Elnora’s face. The succubus sighed heavily in resignation. “I can’t say that I am not tempted by your offer,” she said. “In the name of your House, to glory or ruin…”

Basil nodded. “My legacy means everything to me. I am willing to risk death if it can help me better understand my life.”

“Fine,” Elnora said and took his hand, “you can count on me, boss. Damn the rules and damn the regulations of the Guild. This crazy adventure of yours sounds just too damned exciting to refuse.”

Basil shook the hand of his apprentice. “Thank you, Elnora. I promise that you won’t come to regret your decision. ”

The she-demon downed the last of her whiskey. “I’ve had nothing to regret so far,” she said. “And if my future in service to you turns out at least half as great as this drink, then I will be a happy little succubus.”

Elnora examined the bottom of her empty glass. “If you don’t mind, I’m… going to sit here for a while,” she said. “I don’t think that I can walk… The room is… spinning.”

“Take your time,” Basil said. “We will be arriving at the Guild HQ within the hour. In the meanwhile, think about what we discussed. An opportunity to forge something great awaits us—we need only to grasp it. And I need two hands for that.”