Dungeons Just Want to Have Fun

Kelsey summoned the skeleton before they left. Not just any skeleton. Its weapons and armour were missing, and she had wrapped cloth around its armbones, shoulders and head. Gloves had gone on the hands. Then she had draped a long hooded cloak around the whole thing.

It looked suspicious to Anton as Kelsey had it walk around in a circle. But it did look like a suspicious human, rather than a monster.

“Zaphar is with me,” Kesley announced, “Along with muggins, here. You two,” addressing Anton and Aris, “Get to follow at a distance.”

“What are we doing?” Anton asked.

“You’re backup, in case things go as unplanned,” Kelsey told him. “It should be a quick in-and-out, but you never know how things will go.”

The walk over was uneventful enough. They split up when they got to the crowd. Kelsey’s group headed around to one side, trying to get close enough to approach the post, while Anton and Aris went in the other direction, joining the crowd in the hopes of getting another glimpse of the courl in question.

The crowd was a little odd, at least to Anton’s limited experience with such things. A mixture of different classes and races, they all gave Al-Kadir a wide berth and never looked directly at him. At the same time, conversations were being struck up in hushed voices between strangers, commenting on the strangeness of it all.

“Is that really him—”

“—sworn to bring a killer to justice—”

“—lost a bet—”

The courl himself was leaning against a wall, about two yards from the post that was the centre of all this. It was hard to mistake, covered in about a dozen folded sheets of paper that had been nailed to it. Anton supposed that it wasn’t getting much use at the moment. It was mainly used by people who wanted to communicate anonymously, and they probably didn’t want to be scrutinised by the glowering courl.

More than anyone else on this unimportant street, Al-Kadir looked out of place. His brown fur seemed to shimmer with health and his silk robe and opulently embroidered waistcoat looked like they were worth more than the clothes of everyone else here put together.

His piercing amber eyes scanned the crowd. Everyone looked away when his gaze passed over them, and Anton was no exception. He almost missed the words, said at a normal volume. Coming from that direction, though, they caused gasps, a sudden silence and a general motion away from him.

“Hey, you.”

He had time enough to look back and see that Al-Kadir was walking towards him, the crowd falling over itself to get out of the courl’s way.

Anton froze. Running away would make him look guilty and there was no way Al-Kadir could know he’d done anything wrong. Could he?

Can he smell that Soraya has been near me? he wondered, panicking. It wasn’t impossible. An advanced hunter might have such a trait. It seemed unlikely for a duellist though. That was about all Anton had time to think of before the courl was standing in front of him.

Aris clutched Anton’s arm reminding him of her presence.

“A foreign noble and his Lady,” Al-Kadir said, with a deep, rumbling voice. “You’re a long way from home, my friend.”

“I am?” Anton blurted. “I mean— Yes, I am. Am I your friend, though?”

Al-Kadir smiled, a gesture that was probably meant to be disarming. However, Anton had yet to see a courl smile that didn’t look cruel. This one was no exception, but Anton tried not to hold it against him.

“It’s just an expression,” Al-Kadir said. “As a member of the Bey’s court, I do have a responsibility to make foreign guests feel welcome. I— just a moment.”

In an instant, he was gone. There was no sensation of movement, just his sudden absence. Looking around wildly, Anton quickly spotted where the courl had gone.

He was back at the post, holding the arm of a figure Anton recognised. The skeleton, holding a piece of paper in his hand. Kelsey had obviously taken this chance to make her approach. Just as obviously, Al-Kadir was not so easily distracted.

This was still within the parameters of Kelsey’s plan, though. The skeleton shivered in Al-Kadir’s grasp and then fell into pieces. Everyone froze in surprise, and then someone in the crowd screamed.

All around, new conversations were starting up.

“—Killed him without even a blow!”

“—Stripped the flesh from his bones!”

“—maybe we shouldn’t be here—”

“—witness a murder—”

The crowd was starting to disperse, as curiosity warred with fear in the onlookers. Al-Kadir ignored all that. Plucking the paper out of the skeleton’s grasp, he opened it up and read the contents, frowning, as Anton and the braver onlookers watched on.

Then he simply held the note out to one side. Another courl stepped out of the crowd. He was dressed much more simply, though still in silk of good quality. Taking the letter, he stepped back into the dispersing crowd as Al-Kadir made his way back to Anton and Aris.

“Sorry about that, a private matter.”

“Did you… do that?” Anton asked, pushing his guile to the limit. It seemed like the question anyone else in the crowd would have asked.

“No,” Al-Kadir said shortly. “It was a skeleton before I touched it. It seems I am dealing with kidnappers who are working for a necromancer.”

“Necromancer?” Anton asked. He’d only ever heard the term from Kelsey, so he figured it was the sort of thing an innocent noble would not know.

“A type of mage, with an interest in raising corpses,” Al-Kadir said thoughtfully. “A particularly deranged type,” he added. “I heard a rumour about an undead attack on the walls… I will have to follow that up.”

Shaking his head, Al-Kadir dismissed whatever thoughts he was having and put a hand on Anton’s shoulder.

“But that is no concern of yours. As I was saying, I wanted to properly greet you. Would you do me the honour of breaking bread with me?”

“Uh, sure,” Anton said. “We’re in kind of a hurry though…”

“I know a coffee house not far from here,” Al-Kadir assured him. “The pastries are very good.”

“That sounds delightful,” Aris said, squeezing Anton’s arm.

“Oh! Yes. This is my wife, the lady Aris,” Anton said.

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Al-Kadir said. “Please, this way.”

Anton didn’t see any sign of Kelsey as they headed off to the coffee house. He hoped they were being followed, but he had to admit that it seemed a bit of a risk. When they got to their destination, they were quickly whisked off to a private table in a nook overlooking the main floor. Anton wasn’t a fan of the thick, sweet stuff they called coffee here, but they did serve tea, so Anton and Aris had that instead.

“I must admit, I have not been entirely honest with you,” Al-Kadir said, once they were comfortable.

“Oh?” Anton said in what he hoped was a non-committal manner. The pastries were good.

“It’s true that hospitality should be shown to foreign guests. But the Court cares little for barbarian nobility that happens to wander by. My Nobility’s Privilege showed me your title, but it also showed me your class, which I find much more interesting.”

“Nobility’s Privilege?” Anton said. To his surprise, it didn’t come out as a squeak. “I… heard some things about you—from the crowd— and one of those things was that despite your exalted rank, you weren’t a noble.”

Did I say that? Anton thought. Is that what having higher Charisma does? Makes you say things like exalted?

Pulling himself together, Anton listened to the courl’s reply.

“I was a noble, long enough to get the Scion class, before my family… displeased the Wali. They were all killed, and I was sent as a slave to the Arena. Fortunately, I had always had a talent for the blade…”

Al-Kadir trailed off, his gaze drifting off into the past. Blinking it away, he returned his attention to Anton. “Fighting my way up to an… exalted rank, as you say, was not easy. But I managed it and now I am as you see. Dishonoured as a noble, the rest of the court fears and hates me, and the Bey uses me to keep them in line.”

“That sounds hard,” Aris said sympathetically.

“The Arena was far harder, I assure you,” Al-Kadir said, smiling. “But thank you for your concern.”

“Since you are talking to us, I’ve got to ask the question everyone in the crowd was asking,” Anton said. “What are you doing?”

“A reasonable question,” Al-Kadir said. “There are those who would say I have lost my mind. While I still retain my blade, though, they must keep quiet.”

“The truth is, I have fallen in love.”

“How romantic!” Aris gushed. “I’m not sure how that follows, though.”

Anton carefully didn’t let himself goggle at Aris. Since when did she care about romantic gestures? That sort of thing was for nobles, which… they were now. He made a note to buy some flowers and to… ask Kelsey for ideas? That didn’t sound right. He’d think about it some more. Right now, Al-Kadir was talking. He’d just said Soraya’s name.

“I was negotiating with her father to marry her when she was kidnapped by what I now know to be some necromancer and his gang. I’m going to have to tell her father that his slaves have no doubt been killed and turned into servants of the foul deviant. I can only hope that Soraya is still alive.”

Al-Kadir forced himself to stop speaking and took a sip of his coffee to calm down. He continued after a few deep breaths.

“For the crime of laying hands on sweet Soraya, that fiend will pay with his life. I only hope he comes back, so I can kill him again.”

He stared into his cup for a moment and then shook his head.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I brought you here to talk about,” he said, forcing a change in his demeanour.

“You wanted to talk about my Class?” Anton asked.

“A little, but I can see that you’re new to it,” Al-Kadir said. “What I wanted to talk about was your fighting ability.”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t compare to yours,” Anton said carefully.

“It doesn’t,” Al-Kadir said. “I have a Trait that evaluates opponents, and you’re not my equal. But you could be, one day.”

“You’re not planning on taking him out before he becomes a rival, are you?” Aris asked anxiously.

Al-Kadir laughed. A surprised snort at first, that quickly grew into an uncontrollable belly laugh. Not sharing the joke, the other two could only wait for it to die down.

“No,” Al-Kadir finally managed to say. “Not that. Understand— I live for worthy rivals. The only time I see anything like a fair fight is when the cities vie against each other. Once a year, at best. The rest of the time, my fights are just executions. The blade in the victim’s hand is just for show.”

Al-Kadir pointed at Anton. “You. Without even trying it, I know that you can resist my Aura of Fear.”

“I’ve heard that most of your opponents can’t even stay on their feet when they face you,” Anton said.

“You can,” Al-Kadir said. “You can’t beat me, not yet. But when you’ve progressed… how long have you been on the first level?”

“I’ve… been having a problem with the experience requirements,” Anton admitted.

Al-Kadir nodded. “Fancy Classes can be trouble that way. I only get experience when I fight for the city, now. Yours is a variant on Hero, correct?”

“Yes,” Anton admitted. Just how many of my secrets can this courl see?

“Hmm…” Al-Kadir said, thinking. “I might have something for you. First, take this.” He handed Anton a paper card with writing on it. “That has my address, someone can direct you to it. I want you to come over sometime when you have time. We can have a friendly spar.”

“We both already know I can’t beat you,” Anton said. Al-Kadir laughed again.

“Ah, but you’ll get better, fighting someone better than you,” he pointed out, and Anton was forced to agree.

“Now, come with me,” Al-Kadir said, draining the last of his coffee. He dropped a few coins on the table and strode out, dragging Anton and Aris in his wake.

He led them back to the post.

“I was pretty bored waiting out here,” he said. “I took the time to examine all of these.”

He carefully plucked a nail out of one of the notices and showed it to Anton. Like all of them, it was folded over, with a crude symbol drawn on the front.

“The front shows who the message is for,” Al-Kadir said.

“Who does a star represent?” Anton asked.

“No one I’m familiar with,” Al-Kadir replied. “Some of the gods have stars as part of their symbology, but this looks too crudely drawn to be addressed to them.”

He opened the note and showed it to Anton.

“A bird, and… I can’t read Elitran,” Anton said apologetically.

“The kingfisher is the symbol of one of the gangs in this area,” Al-Kadir told him. “And the writing… well it’s crude, possibly done by a child. It says: Help us.”

He passed the folded note to Anton.

“If you’re looking for a chance to be a hero, there it is,” he said.