The Pinnacle Warrior

Astrid walked into the Viscount’s home, a sense of anticipation and strangeness overcoming her as he did so. There had never been any occasion for her to enter the man’s house before, so it had always been, in her mind, some lavish, opulent castle with servants of every Class waiting behind every corner. Surely he would eat the tastiest trimmings of whatever meat he desired every day, with sugary treats and so on and so forth. In truth, she had no reason to actually think this, and it was only now that she was an adult that she actually confronted that mistaken thinking of hers.

Now, she had encountered the kind of nobles who would do that, who would hire or take anybody whose Class suited their fancy, wrest wealth and power from their subjects, and would expand their personal power with whatever means appealed to them. Astrid didn’t have anywhere near a good enough relationship with the Viscount to have any knowledge regarding his nature or potentially unsavory inclinations, but from what she’d seen of him and heard from her mother, he wasn’t that kind of man. Now, Astrid stood here, and she just looked around, seeing that, while the building was large, there weren’t extravagant tapestries, stained glass windows, or even many servants.

With her new Class, Infallible Mind had doubled her Acumen, and while she wasn’t nearly comparable to others in the party, she had about 800 Acumen and could sense just about anything that was happening throughout the entire building, if she stretched herself and flooded her senses with Acumen-aligned mana. In the entire building, there was one room that she couldn’t feel anything in, probably the one where the Duchess was right now, but through the entire rest of the house, there were only seven people.

Again, Astrid was struck by the difference in reality and her expectations, but she simply followed her mother’s lead into the inner rooms of the building. As they arrived at the destination that Brighid was directing them towards, two guards stepped forward and raised their hands to her.

“I apologize,” one said, his voice sounding genuine enough. “The Duchess is briefly conferring with the Golden Fist. She anticipates it only being another two to three minutes at most, but wanted to offer any amenity you wished to avail yourselves of before she’s ready. Again, our apologies for requesting your presence and then not being ready upon your arrival.”

Astrid took a long, slow breath, shaking her head against the frustration that threatened to rear its ugly head. She was already thrown off by Miriam’s appearance in the first place, and, as she reminded herself, this is the person she was here to support. There was no reason to go in with a massive chip on her shoulder because the Duchess was willing to continue work with people who had supported her and her position for something like three decades. That Astrid didn’t have a great relationship with them didn’t matter.

“We just came from dinner, so I think we’ll be fine,” Astrid said, looking at the rest of her party. The men nodded in agreement while Muti stared at the guards. She leaned closer, sniffing deeply, and both of the guards looked, at the very least, uncomfortable with her attention. The one that had been speaking was more put together, while the other audibly tightened his grip on the halberd in his hand.

“You are—”

“Nope,” Astrid cut Muti off from what was guaranteed to be some comment on the guards’ relative weakness. Astrid grabbed Muti’s ear by the pointed tip and tweaked it towards herself. The Barbarian whirled towards Astrid, golden braid whipping through the air. Her face was a complicated mix of amusement, frustration, and, if Astrid read it correctly, excitement, but she stepped back without complaint.

“Someday, when you visit my home,” Muti muttered in a voice that was barely even a whisper, “I will treat you similarly.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Astrid replied, the barely uttered conversation whipping back and forth so quickly that she was sure the two guards, each maybe Iron tier, wouldn’t be able to understand, even if they could hear them. “I’ll be depending on you to keep me from making a fool of myself.”

Muti chuckled, catching Astrid’s hand for a moment, cradling it against her cheek. Then, she stepped back beside Felix and leaned into him, her posture distinctly feline. The Guardian smiled faintly as he extended a hand high enough up for her to place on her cheek. With him, she took his index finger and bit the side, just above the highest knuckle. Astrid hadn’t ever seen her do that in particular before, so she continued to watch as the Barbarian didn’t just nibble, but actively bit hard on the flesh there. It failed to break the skin, and Felix, after allowing her to do so for a second, pulled his finger out and flicked her on the nose.

“Sorry about that,” Astrid drew the first word out. She wasn’t sure what exactly to say about Muti’s general inclinations towards physical affection.

Fortunately, she was saved from having to make any explanations by a sound suddenly coming out of the room behind the guards. It had been totally blocked off to her perception until that second, but she could hear an unfamiliar voice command, “Send them in!”

Despite knowing what was about to happen, Astrid didn’t move or react until the guard who had been speaking to them until now looked straight in her face.

“She’s ready to see you now.”

Both of the guards seemed happy to not have to deal with the powerful, eccentric party in front of them, pushing open the doors and stepping to the side to allow the Wanderers to enter. In front of them walked Brighid, her steps steady, but somehow stately as she stepped into a room that evidently she was familiar with. Astrid, however, allowed her eyes to wander around the room and take in the sights.

From what Astrid knew of the layout of the building, they were in the back end of the Viscount’s home, the far wall being the edge of the house. A room maybe ten meters across and fifteen long lay in front of them, the floors tiled, and the walls patterned with large windows. The rest of the home, at least, as much as Astrid had seen, was largely undecorated, but here, a single portrait hung at the end of the hall, with geometric tapestries hung between the windows. A series of chairs sat against each wall, and at the far end of the room, with three steps leading up, was a raised platform.

There was nobody in the room, except for five familiar faces and one stranger. Standing at the front of the raised platform was Aleksandr, his dark armor on with no helmet. He didn’t carry his spear, but Astrid was sure that he could summon and throw it faster than she could take a step forward. His face was as young as when she first met him, the suggestion of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and just a faint dusting of silver in his otherwise relatively dark hair hinting to his age of at least sixty. He half smiled at the Wanderers’ entrance, but did nothing more. Directly behind him stood Leah, her own armor a pattern of faintly pearlescent, crystalline scales. Astrid had no idea what kind of monster the material would have come from, but obviously, it was impressive enough for an Arcanite tier to use. The woman who had, for so much of her life, been her idol, appraised the Wanderers as they walked in with a severity that she had never seemed to have.

Saul stood unobtrusively near the wall, leaning heavily on a staff. He, as always, was offputtingly ordinary. His face sported a relatively well-kept beard that was more salt than pepper, and far more wrinkles and signs of aging than Alexander or Leah. Now presumably Arcanite tier, his ability to completely mask the weight of the mana he commanded wasn’t as complete, but he could still pass as an ordinary person to anyone who wasn’t actively looking. Miriam flickered into existence, appearing and reappearing disconcertingly across the room, and Astrid didn’t care to take the woman’s measure. She’d already looked at her earlier, and the playful actions she was taking had Astrid’s teeth on edge.

Finally, Isana fiddled with something in her lap before she seemed to decide it was no longer worth her attention. The item disappeared into a spatial pouch, and she looked at Astrid before her eyes visibly went glassy with mana. A shiver ran down Astrid’s spine as the blonde woman’s head slowly tilted to the side more and more until it was, seemingly, past her shoulder. Astrid felt her face start to screw up in confusion and disgust, but forced off her knee-jerk reaction. Instead, finally, she turned to look at the Duchess.

She sat on a throne, a benevolent smile on her face. Her dark hair was carefully styled, a braid going over the crown  of her head and holding back her bangs while carefully, perfectly curled locks trailed down her back. She wore what Astrid could only call a war dress. Thick, quilted material made up the skirts, not bustled or pleated, but instead with two high slits that went most of the way up the thigh on each leg, revealing leggings to hide her modesty. Threads of what Astrid could guarantee were Dungeon Silver patterned the entire dress, with a heavy Dungeon Gold breastplate that seemed to be a part of the dress itself. Whether it was the dress accentuating it or the woman’s figure underneath, the Duchess was, in every way, shape, and form, beautiful. A generous bust, curvy hips, full lips, and bright green eyes complemented by her dark, nearly black hair.

Astrid, despite having been specifically prepared to interact with a noble, found herself tongue-tied in the presence of the woman in front of her. Maybe it was Skills, maybe it was just her personal beauty, but whatever the case was, Astrid walked into the throne room and found herself unable to think of anything to say.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to.

“Welcome, Wanderers,” the Duchess spoke. Astrid had expected a bright, high-pitched voice, but instead was surprised again by the sonorous, husky tone with which the Duchess spoke. It was kind, almost motherly, and Astrid fought to keep herself from licking her lips as the rightful leader of the country continued speaking.

“Thank you for answering my summons. As you can probably already tell, I am the Duchess. However, if possible, I would prefer to introduce myself in truth.” As she spoke, the Duchess stood from her throne and stepped forward, walking down the stairs to get closer to the Wanderers. Astrid glanced around and saw that the rest of the party seemed similarly surprised by what was happening while Brighid had bowed her head at the woman’s approach.

Seeming to think twice about doing whatever she was doing, the Duchess stepped towards Brighid, the same gentle smile on her face. Now that she was close, Astrid could see that the Duchess was short, maybe a meter and a half tall. Astrid towered over her, and some of the mystique surrounding the woman disappeared as she spoke to Brighid.

“Thank you for bringing them, Brighid. You have served us well, and I greatly appreciate your willingness to continue to serve in my army. For now, if you have no complaints, I would prefer to speak with your daughter and her party as the Wanderers, and to have a conversation that perhaps could be considered confidential.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” was all the answer she gave before bowing and walking out. For a moment, Astrid worried about her mother’s control over herself, she had somehow lost her bodily autonomy. That fear didn’t last for long, though, as Brighid reached out to grab Astrid’s elbow as she walked past. They locked eyes, and Astrid got the silent warning and reassurance that her mother intended.

Once the door closed behind Brighid, Saul gently tapped the butt of his staff against the ground. As he did so, a wave of mana floated out from him and covered the entire room in a barrier. The silently cast spell very slightly darkened the room and, as it completed its formation, Astrid suddenly lost all awareness of the world outside the room. As it snapped into being, the Duchess glanced into the faces of the Wanderers and seemingly deliberately relaxed. Her aura of competence and leadership seemed to fade away, and whatever Skill she had ceased being active. Even so, Astrid felt herself perhaps embarrassingly slack-jawed at the woman’s beauty.

“I apologize for the formality I had to greet you with,” the Duchess said, her benevolent smile leaking away into a more honest expression. “I respect your mother, she’s done a lot of work for me. However, I anticipate her holding a different position within this nation than you do. As such, it’s for the best that I remain only the Duchess in her eyes, not Ruth.”

Astrid’s mind reeled for a split second before she narrowed her eyes and glanced between all of the six strangers in the room. Nobody’s faces revealed anything, and Astrid didn’t know why she expected anything different. Regardless, with the current situation, she could only remain on her toes.

“I can’t say that I have a whole lot of experience with nobles who want to have a particularly good relationship with me,” she started. “Even so, I haven’t heard of many nobles willingly giving their names. Other than a Bronze tier one.”

She didn’t add what happened to that particular Count, but Astrid would be surprised if the Duchess, or Ruth as she seemed to want to be known, didn’t already know the intimate details of what happened there. Fortunately, the Duchess chuckled a little as she nodded.

“Yes, it is uncommon to give that information. Once a noble receives their Class, they are typically moved away from their hometowns, far away from where anybody who knew them as a child. There, they are trained by another Noble, and once they’re ready to be given a post, they are moved once again, to people who have only ever known them as competent and referred to them by their title. It is a system that has worked for the nobility for centuries.”

“You don’t want to treat us like your regular subjects,” Astrid finished the unspoken thought at the end of the explanation. “You want to have a better relationship with us. And, to do that, you’re extending the first expression of trust. Is that about right?”

“Yes,” she shrugged. “I can’t say that I am particularly familiar with the… Shall we call it lifecycle? of a delver. It feels inhumane to call it so, but I have no better word. However, I have it on good authority that, barring any other extenuating circumstances that force you to push ever faster, you will remain above ground for quite a few years yet. Decades, perhaps. I’m assuming you know of the settlements that exist within the Dungeon proper?”

“Yes, we do,” Astrid nodded, surprised at the sudden shift in topic. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you know what kinds of people live down there?” Ruth continued.

“Arcanite tiers… wait, are you wanting us to fill in for the Golden Fist?”

“Yes,” she nodded simply, confirming the way that Astrid’s mind went. “In the long-term, they will be unable to remain close, for a variety of reasons. After the war, if you are willing, I’d like to build and maintain a more personal relationship with you. Perhaps the Wanderers could become a trusted associate of the Duchess?”

“Probably not,” Astrid answered bluntly. Despite the fact that the Duchess had made it as a request, the woman’s face twisted as the negative answer came her way. Perhaps she was unused to being denied, or maybe it was something else, but whatever the case was, Ruth’s face twisted for a moment. It remained beautiful, but her disbelief colored her visage for a full second. Then, she took a deep breath and continued.

“I have to say that’s disappointing, though I can’t say I blame you for any reason you have. May I be so bold as to request an answer as to why? It will not color any of our interactions moving forward, though I will admit that I will try to overcome whatever these issues are and convince you to have a good relationship with me, if nothing else.”

“Oh, it’s nothing against you,” Astrid chuckled a little, maintaining eye contact. Her heart twisted as she gave the answer, but there was no reason to hide it. “The Wanderers as a party probably won’t last much past this war. So, while we might have a good relationship with you individually, the party is at the verge of splintering. I can’t say that the party will be able to step into that position, because I don’t think that the party will exist at that point. If you want to be my friend, though, I bet I could swing that.”

The Duchess blinked a few times, glanced between the various members of the Wanderers party, then, with a sigh, seemed to relax even further.

“Sounds like we both have some life-changing adjustments coming up in our lives pretty soon,” Ruth said.

“That’s probably a good way to put it,” Astrid laughed.

“You know,” Ruth mused, “it’s been a while since I had anybody willing to call themselves my friend. It might be nice to have one again.”

“Well, my name is Astrid Warrior, and if you’re looking to have a friend, I might be willing to be with you. You know, so long as you aren’t going around enslaving people. Or treating them like idiots for being younger than you.” She couldn’t keep the barbs from her voice as she said the last part, and, for the first time, she saw what looked like a more genuine smile, crack the Duchess‘s face.

“Yes, sounds like being friends is better than the alternative,” Ruth chuckled, the sound throaty and sweet to Astrid’s ears. As the two women shook hands, Ruth gestured with her left hand in the air. Apparently, it was a sign for Miriam, who flickered into existence and actually stayed there for a moment.

“Would you bring some chairs for my new friend and her party? They would probably appreciate it along with some refreshments while we talk about what plans we might have that they can be involved in. After all, if we’re going to be friends, we should probably get our next steps figured out.”