The day continued, and Eric mingled with hundreds of merchants, nobles, and people of renown. Somehow—through machinations of Seraphine, he assumed—none of the small council interacted with him.
Eric was making inroads and connections with people he had spoken to briefly in his prior timeline who he could perfectly recall thanks to the memories packed away in that pocket of The Paths that was sent back in time with him. His ability to access those perfect recollections was proving an invaluable boon.
Day began to turn toward evening. Dinner was a grand affair. Tables were brought out, the Summoned were put back in their place of honor they had occupied at breakfast, and dishes upon dishes were foisted upon their plates. Eric filled up on all manner of delicious delights.
They could not converse too much, as every ear would be listening in on their discussion to pick up on anything that could be used as leverage. As such, they mostly discussed who they had spoken to thus far in shallow strokes, commented on the clothing they had seen so far, the food they were eating, and the overall experience thus far.
When dinner had concluded, the tables were taken away, bands struck up new tunes, and more dances followed.
Eventually the festivities began to die down. It was getting to the point that Eric had initially looked forward to the most, but after meeting Misty and Xera, his mind had begun wandering.
Peter elbowed him in the ribs—hard. “Ow,” Eric muttered, rubbing his side.
“You’re zoning out,” Peter replied.
Eric dragged his attention back to the end of the prince’s speech. It was rambling, jumbled, and nearly incomprehensible thanks to his drunken stupor. Eric let out a sigh of relief as it finally concluded, and applauded along with the rest of those gathered. The prince bowed and departed, heading up the stairs.
Seraphine, her husband Tristan, and the cool, confident Xera took the place the prince had occupied upon the raised dais. “We thank you for coming to this wonderful event,” Tristan said as he raised his half-empty wine cup in a toast. “The king has asked us to convey his gift to the Summoned.” He swept his arm sideways to the four of them, who were sitting below the dais. “My love?” he prompted.
Seraphine’s gaze was intently fixed on Eric, eyes bright and unclouded by drink, and her voice was confident as she spoke, “As is tradition, giving gifts to the guests of honor will now begin. The first comes from the king. The estate you currently occupy is being completely transferred to the four of you to do with what you will. The servant stipend will be paid for one year. In addition, His Majesty has gifted you a year’s worth of funds to support your current lifestyle for the same duration.”
There came raucous applause from all around them. Eric had known this was coming, as the king had done it the last time. They were still practically prisoners, but they owned the smaller cage now. The bigger cage of the capital’s boundaries was still firmly in place. It was an illusion of freedom to make them less likely to rebel against their handlers.
Last time, this gift had not been well-received. That was due to the fact that the Summoned had already been promised larger riches and grander prizes by other members of the small council. Most of them left the estate shortly after the soirée, and Eric rarely interacted with them after that. In fact, after the first few seasons of solitude at the manor, he had taken his leave to be with the Admiral, under her direct oversight.
The reactions from his allies were wholly different this time around.
Peter was grinning. Not slumped over drunk like he’d been the last time. He was alert and aware. A quick glance sideways to the edge of the room told Eric that he appreciated Benson staying on for the following year.
Shannon was not sulking in the corner; instead, she was on the verge of happy tears. Eric assumed because she’d just been given a house—something she’d never dreamed of owning back on Earth.
Naomi had a thoughtful expression on her face, not a look of boredom at the events. Eric figured she was trying to figure out how to expand upon the workshop.
For Eric, it represented a step in the right direction.
Perfect. This time I won’t be there all alone. We’ll stick together, build each other up, be each other’s support structure. We’ll go into the Twilight Depths and find whatever it is that will let us push back the Titan’s awakening. A base of operations we can improve upon. First, though, Naomi should lead the charge in sweeping the place for any magic items that might be spying on us.
He was sure devices had been planted throughout the estate. He’d never found them in the last timeline, but the fact that other people had seemed to know what he was up to in his previous timeline left no doubt in his mind.
Seraphine continued to speak, cutting through the fading applause and Eric’s thoughts. “Now, we invite all of you wonderful guests to shower the Summoned with whatever gifts you desire as well.”
Xera stepped down from the platform and walked around to the front of the Summoned, lingering in front of Eric and giving him a sultry look before resuming her perfectly tailored, regal expression. “Summoned, please take your places atop the dais.”
Peter stood up first, followed rapidly by the rest, as Tristan and Seraphine vacated the top part of the platform. Chairs were brought up, the four Summoned took their seats, and Eric braced for the simultaneously most boring and most exciting part of the evening.
Receiving gifts.
Trok tradition dictated that silent acceptance of gifts was the norm, and only curt nods or polite waves would act as gratitude. In the kingdom’s culture, the joy was in the giving of the gift, not the receiving of it.
Beneath the dais, under the feet of each Summoned, three large containers were set. A box, for scrips that could be traded in with the GBA or through a Valagonia-owned branch for coins. A jar, for coins that had not been converted to scrip. Last was a huge, fur-lined sack for everything else.
Elaborately tailored clothes, precious herbs and spices, letters containing all types of invitations, offers for meetings and opportunities, along with all types of trinkets and baubles filled the sack. Eric gave polite nods to all of the people who deposited the items.
He leaned forward a bit farther in his chair when Misty approached with the Baxter-family presents. She placed a sealed jar filled with sparkling, crimson liquid into each of the gift sacks for each Summoned.
She paused in front of Eric, however. “This is a Body Enhancement,” she said with a smile. “The effects are listed on the label. If you want to apply this item to your body, it will take one of your Loadout slots permanently, but the effects are well worth it. A physician should oversee and be present throughout the process.” She curtsied.
Eric dipped his head in the deepest, most respectful nod that tradition would allow. The crimson fluid was a valuable Body Enhancement. Something that would easily be considered Tier 5, only craftable from Components of monsters in the four-hundred-and-fifty to six-hundred-twenty-five range.
I knew that the Baxter family would be putting up something good after I spent time with Misty earlier.
She departed, giving a little glance back to Eric and sending him a blown kiss before she vanished into the crowd.
More people came forward, and the containers full of riches beneath them grew more and more full. The other Summoned struggled to keep their composure throughout the event, but Eric could not chide them or correct their demeanor without committing a social faux pas himself.
The other old-blood families gave gifts that were just as valuable as what Misty had. The Marshall family gifted rare, high-value Components, the Ghulara family left excellent clothes of the finest basilisk hide which could last for years while standing up to some of the harshest weather conditions, and the Valagonia family gifted them a permanent travel pass.
Leaving guarded or heavily patrolled regions was risky, as the ambient mana from the Ley Lines made animals occasionally evolve and become stronger in the wilds, turning them into mana beasts. Traveling in large groups, particularly as members of a well-armed merchant caravan, was commonplace. Often, though, just going along without contributing cost money. These travel passes would let their holder bypass the fee, if they felt the desire to travel beyond Tenebria’s guarded areas and head toward other cities.
After the old-blood family’s presents came the letters of courtship. Dozens, if not hundreds of them. Marrying a Summoned into a family would mean great prestige and a near-guarantee that the family would rise amongst the ranks of nobility. Not just old-blood families, but new-blood as well, and merchant lords who thought they might have a chance to convince a Summoned with some enticing deal to sweeten the offer.
Eric groaned internally. He knew that a handwritten response was expected for every single offer of courtship. Many of the letters offered came from people whom he had spoken to for only a few moments. Several came from people he had never spoken to at all. Just hopefuls, shooting their shot.
I’m going to have hand cramps for the next week.
As the lines dwindled and the room cleared out, Xera approached. She bowed deeply. “My sister and her husband have retired. I will have servants bring your gifts to your carriage. Guards will be provided who will escort you back to your estate alongside your king’s guards.” She glanced over to Mari and Benson, who were standing leisurely to the side. “You two, please oversee the servants. We all know how sticky-fingered some of them are.”
The Maid and Butler quickly began issuing orders to the others of similar stations, given the latitude to now do so by one of the highest-ranking nobles of that estate’s holdings, and thus were granted the authority to command their peers.
Eric got off of the dais, and then offered a hand to help Shannon down. Peter assisted Naomi, and once all four were back on their feet, they shared looks. The party had concluded, the festivities were wrapped up, and aside from servants they were left alone with Xera.
Peter broke the silence with a laugh. Then, Shannon followed. Naomi giggled a little bit.
“Holy hell,” Peter said. “We’re rich!”
Shannon was practically buzzing. “Heck yeah! Who needs the Twilight Depths with money like this? Plus the house?!”
Naomi looked across all of the Components, her eyes glazing over. “There’s so much I could work with. . .”
Eric turned to Xera and bowed deeply. “My lady, thank you for hosting this wonderful event. I will be busy the next few days responding to these various requests. After, I plan to venture into the Twilight Depths.” He looked up to meet her gaze and warmly smiled. “I look forward to our next meeting.”
She inclined her head slightly as if in approval. The glint in her eyes, and the very little upturn of her lips told him that she looked forward to their next encounter. “Allow me to lead you out.”
A few hours later the Summoned pulled up to the estate. An intricate lock kept the entrance shut, and king’s guards manned their station outside of the gilded prison. Benson produced the key from his jacket pocket, opened the gates, and flung them open for the carriage to enter.
The d’Orveil house guard remained until the gates shut behind the carriage, and then they departed on the mounts they had rode in front of and behind the Summoned’s conveyance.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Mari, who had driven the carriage, maneuvered it to an area with a small overhang that functioned similarly to a covered parking spot. She unhitched the horses. “I shall return these to his majesty’s stables on the morrow with the carriage.” She led the horses toward the farthest side of the lawn, where the horses, if they did leave droppings, would not smell up anywhere near where the Summoned might be.
“Thanks for everything you did tonight,” Eric said. He turned to Benson. “Do you need any help?”
The man was beginning to remove the gifts from the top of the carriage. “I can manage, thank you. Then, I shall begin to sort the correspondence.”
Peter looked up at him. “Here, let me help.”
Benson blushed a little, then turned away to hide it. “Oh. If you’re sure.”
Eric assisted as well, and within a few minutes all of the gifts had been put in the house’s lounge. Almost immediately, Naomi began going through the bags and removing Components. “Is everyone good if I take all of these?”
“You going to make me some sweet armor?” Peter asked. “Maybe a badass weapon too?”
“I was thinking of something like a smartphone,” Naomi muttered. “Something we can use to communicate, map out areas—all types of functions. But I’ll have to start with a basic framework and work my way up. It’ll be a learning process of trial and error, I’m sure.”
The bracers, Eric thought. Just like last time, that’s right where your mind is going. Good thing some parts of the now-extinct future timeline are the same.
“Sounds good to me,” Eric said. “Seems like the best use possible.”
Naomi gave him a subtle nod, understanding the hidden message: she had done this before, and he approved.
Shannon began going through the scrips and coins, divvying them up into four equal piles.
“Make five piles,” Eric said.
“Why?” Shannon asked as she looked up from her sorting.
“We should each have our own finances, but also a house fund,” Eric explained. “If we’re all living together, then making sure we can improve the estate and cover our expenses seems wise. Plus, we only have Benson and Mari’s salaries and our house expenses covered for one year by the king. We’ll need to plan for the future. If any of us end up marrying off to one of these families and moves out, we can give that person their cut of the house fund at that time.”
“Huh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Like a trust fund.” Shannon began splitting off a fifth pile.
Peter started digging through the gifts and pulled out the furs and pelts. “Oh, these are so soft.” He rubbed his cheek on one of them. “Holy fuck. Dude, feel this.” He handed it to Shannon, who paused her counting to touch it.
“Wow. I want to snuggle up with that,” she practically purred.
Peter shoved his hand down into the bag and came back up with another one of the pelts. “What is this stuff?”
From the doorway, Benson replied, “That appears to be white-mane fur. They are a cat-like creature from high up in the mountains. Those make excellent throw-over blankets in the colder seasons.”
Eric began pulling out and sorting what he viewed as the most valuable items: gear and Body Enhancements. He started grouping them by Tier, and then identified duplicates and ensured an even split of the items.
“Naomi,” Eric said.
“Hmm?” she replied, looking up from her piles of Components.
Eric continued, “We need to think and plan as a group. If going into the Twilight Depths is a focus for our development, we can choose which Body Enhancements each person uses specifically.”
“Oh yeah,” Peter said as he put the fur aside, grabbed one of the red jars that Misty had put into the sacks, and tossed it from hand to hand. “Body Enhancements take up a Loadout slot, right?”
“Yup,” Eric replied as he also grabbed the red container. “The problem is, we only get a Loadout Slot every ten levels. Eleven, twenty-one, etcetera.” He held up the shimmering, almost honey-consistency goop and flipped the container over, watching the liquid shift like a lava lamp. “We can’t go overboard without restricting our Skill use. On top of that, some Body Enhancements will cause a drastic physical change.”
“Is that why Seraphine, Tristan, and Xeraphine’s ears were all pointy?” Shannon asked. “Like elves?”
“Yes,” Eric replied. “That enhancement is called Longears. A Tier-three Body Enhancement, it improves the user’s aural acuity.” He glanced at his allies, quickly adding, “But that’s just what I was told when I asked.”
Benson is in earshot and we still haven’t swept the place for ambient-mana-fueled gear like listening devices. We need to do that before I can talk more freely.
Benson, watching from the doorway, added, “In Tenebria, minor enhancements are seen as aesthetic choices. Outside of the capital, more severe modifications are deemed acceptable. But if you want to mingle with the nobility, then whatever you choose needs to be regal.” He chuckled. “I once saw a man with something like stag antlers, and that was pushing the bounds of acceptability. But he did look magnificent. That was something else.”
Eric turned over the fine, white tag attached to the top of the red goop jar. Dainty handwriting wrote exactly what it was, and he felt a giddy buzz in his chest. Neversick Slime, which was an internal Body Enhancement. When applied, a person could not contract viruses or infections: as long as they were not made by a Skill or Rote. Naturally occurring viruses, bacteria, fungi: all of that would be prevented. On top of that, it made no changes to a person’s appearance.
“Tier 5,” he said. “We should consider this as our first Body Enhancement—for all of us.”
And I might want to consider one or two of these other ones as well, he added mentally. I can afford to go down to four Equipped Skills. Flashstep for maneuverability, Cinderburst for AOE, Inferno Trigger for single-target damage, and then Backblast as a more defensive option. If we get a suspicion about a chamber, we can always spend an hour of downtime to swap Loadouts. We should use some of this money buying a guide to the lower floors . . . if we can find one.
Guidebooks were rare to find, as they were bought up almost immediately by dungeon organizations. Eric doubted they would come across one for purchase, since every one that went on the market was snatched up, and the near-mafia-like organizations would visit the people who wrote them, encourage them to not do it again, and kept any type of printer from making mass-produced copies with either bribes or threats of violence.
It was how dungeon organizations made some of their profit. The Delver’s Guild and The Twilight Depths Consortium would charge people a fee to hire an experienced dungeon guide, often someone with a damage-redirecting Vanguard Class, or a barrier or healing focused Warden Class, to accompany people seeking to go into the mega dungeon. They would take a hefty cut of the Monster Parts, or just a fee up front.
Since there was no ability to re-clear a floor, and Monster Parts were vital to the economy, those dungeon organizations would often go out and find young adults, offer to guide them, equip them, and take them through the first floor of the Twilight Depths in large ‘raid’ groups. Those people would get overwhelming support from the dungeon organization, would keep no Monster Parts, but, they would come out with milestones and a Dungeon Core for their efforts.
However, they would have to sign a special contract, binding them through a Skill that some of the Clerks that worked for the Consortium had access to. It would quite literally prevent them from conveying anything about their experiences.
To most citizens of Trok, and the residents of Tenebria, the promise of a Dungeon Core they could sell for coin to kick off their adult life, or turn into a useful piece of gear that they would hold for most of their life, and the early boost of milestones—all of that was well worth the relatively minor risk and the contract binding them via The Paths that could never be broken. The few people that did go into the Twilight Depths on their own and successfully cleared the first floor in their blind run were often holders of Combat Classes, and thus were rapidly recruited into the dungeon organizations, so they wouldn't write guidebooks and break the rules that group imposed on them.
Eric didn’t really want to pay for a dungeon guide to join them, since the guide could be a spy and report back on the Summoned’s capabilities. That was one of their best assets right now: the kingdom could only suppose what their improved abilities would be as they kept dungeon-diving. As long as the Summoned went in alone, in their ‘instanced’ group, no one would know what they were able to accomplish. They would be a wild card, and that would mean people, those he wanted to keep on-edge, would hesitate in interacting with him.
Additionally, he chafed at the entire mafia-esque setup of the dungeon organizations. He understood the necessity of the Twilight Depths Consortium, at least to some extent: ensuring that stupid teenagers didn’t just rush into the mega dungeon and get themselves killed was important.
But hopefully, if he played his cards right, got rid of the Steward and Admiral, and put all the pieces into position, he could make some massive changes to how things operated in Tenebria. Beyond the capital’s walls? Well, there wasn’t much he could do about diving organizations elsewhere in the world.
Benson began gathering up the various correspondences and put them into a pile. “Would anyone like some tea while you continue sorting your gifts?”
“Oh yeah,” Shannon said as she counted coins into neat piles with a satisfied smile on her lips.
Peter, Naomi, and Eric all agreed as well, so Benson departed.
Eric quickly pulled the Silence Node out of his cloak pocket, shut the door to the lounge, and activated the item. “Debrief. Quickly. Go.”
Naomi almost mechanically replied, “I made inroads with the Marshalls. They like me. I’m courting the eldest son, who is just a few years older than I am. I’ll be looking at some of the water systems in the near future. See if there’s room for improvement.” She smiled, a big, broad grin. “James is open to the political marriage arrangement. He is very no-nonsense, and we stepped aside to discuss a mutually beneficial setup. The man’s a genius architect. We match well.” She looked at Eric with a grin. “Thanks for telling me who to focus on, Eric. You’re an epic wingman.”
“No problem,” Eric replied. “Happy things worked out for you.”
Shannon went next. “The Valagonias were so nice. Really pampered me and buttered me up. Definitely a little shady, but I think one of their sons is a banker at heart and has no clue about the criminal stuff. He is also really cute.” She all but squee’d in excitement. “I can’t wait to see him again! He was so dreamy. We talked for a long time and danced quite a bit.”
Eric grinned. “Cecil, right?”
“Yeah! How’d you know?”
“I met him a handful of times in the future timeline,” Eric replied. “He’s not corrupt. If you really like him, that’s great.”
Peter went last. “I was invited to tour some of the farmland. A nice, countryside getaway.” He had a smile on his face. “They have ranches, too, not just farms. It’ll be nice to ride a horse again.”
“They have horses, sure,” Eric replied. “But they also have alicorns.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Is that like a unicorn?”
“With wings, yes. A mean mix between bull and stallion, when it comes to personality. But if you can ride one? Oh, man, it’s cool, flying through the skies like that.”
His allies looked at him, shocked expressions on their faces. “Did you ride one?” Shannon asked.
“Depths below yeah I did,” Eric replied. He vividly recalled the feeling of flight upon the back of a very pissy alicorn. “Then it dumped me on a mountaintop and if not for my barriers I would’ve died from the fall. Like I said, they’re ornery fuckers.”
Peter chuckled. “I’m going to break one in like a bronco.” His smile faded. “I was also approached by one of the family’s daughters. But . . . well, I think she picked up on me not being into her, and hinted that one of her sisters is into women. She mentioned something about a marriage of appearances.”
“Good,” Eric quickly replied. “Odds are, the family would be open to marrying you to that daughter, and be fine with you doing your thing with Benson behind closed doors. The old-blood families know how people are, and know how to keep dalliances discreet.”
Peter’s face darkened. “I . . . I don’t know if I could do that, man. I don’t think I could marry someone I don’t love.”
I do know, Eric thought, but the fate of the kingdom, the well-being of hundreds of thousands across Trok, depends on us stabilizing things. Part of that is getting all of the old-blood families in our pockets and on our sides through diplomatic marriages.
Eric just shrugged in response. Noncommittal, as he didn’t want to alienate Peter at this point. He had already lost trust points with the regressor reveal and couldn’t risk further loss of trust at this time by going hardline on the ‘greater good’ angle.
“How about you?” Peter asked.
Eric smiled, fondly recalling both the dance with Misty and the cards with Xera. “I had fun.”
“Not what he meant,” Naomi said as she pursed her lips.
“Oh, right.” Eric shook himself free of the recollections gripping his mind. “The Baxter family is going to be easy to get in with. Even if I don’t end up courting Misty, I worked enough with that family in my past timeline that I know their secrets already. Xera, though . . . the d’Orveil were one of the first families to be brought down by the prince and the Steward. I don’t know how they’ll play into everything if it all goes to shit.”
He glanced across his allies. “Which it won’t, since we know who to take out to ensure things go well. But, Seraphine has massive political power. I should consider Xera as a possibly-equally-potential match for our plans.”
“Got it,” Peter replied. He looked at Shannon. “You good?”
She smiled and said, “Yup!” Then, she set to managing piles of money, eyes glinting with greed.
Eric also contemplated some of the other items that he would need to accomplish before the king died and the prince was removed.
We need to prioritize finding the king’s illegitimate daughter and grooming her to replace the prince, he thought. She should be in her early twenties, and I know she’s somewhere in Tenebria’s lower city, but I have no clue where exactly. Fortunately, we have some time until the king’s demise. Finding her is not a pressing matter.
Eric glanced at Shannon, who was back to piling up coins. She would be best suited as a True Stalker to scout out the lower city and find the lost princess.
Our current main target is getting stronger. Step one, get stronger in the Twilight Depths. Step two, start to make inroads in the political sphere of Tenebria. Step three, find the king’s bastard and secure her. Step four, kill the people who are going to fuck things up.
Eric looked at Peter, who had continued to pull out furs and clothes, running his hands across them. Eric hoped that the man would be willing to kill people when push came to shove. His martial prowess would be indispensable.
I don’t need to rush things. Still, we are making rapid progress and getting everyone on the same page in such a short window. It means when shit finally does hit the fan, we will be prepared.
Eric side-eyed Naomi, who was moving Components into smaller piles by their shape and rarity. Having her in this timeline, on his side, meant that his plans were going to be the most well-thought-out that he could possibly manage.
It’ll catch everyone off guard. We’ll dominate them. They won’t stand a chance. The Admiral, the Steward, and anyone who is allied with them are going down. Trok will be safe. Then, from this position of stability, I can solve the Titan threat.
Benson returned, the door opening breaking the Silence Node’s effect as the black and white vanished and the room returned to normal, the Butler seemingly none the wiser. Eric quickly pocketed the device as the Butler began distributing teacups to everyone, and set a carafe and a heatstone warming kettle on a side table. “How do you want me to divide up these marriage requests?”
This is the third of three chapters that will be released today. The romance angle sub-plot setup is done. This is the last chapter of the Soirée Arc.
Which (sub-plot) romance interest do you think is a better match for Eric after these first encounters? And leave your reasoning in the comments below!
