Ruinous Return

Lyn stood up and stretched. "You're not half bad," she said as she rolled off of the bed, feeling fully satisfied after the midday tumble atop the sheets.

"Th-thank you, my Lady," Gael replied as he re-dressed. He followed in after her. "Is that all?"

Lyn nodded, "Yes. Thank you for being of service."

Gael's shyness was still there, but she could tell from the response he was gaining some confidence around her. "You are welcome, my Lady." He turned and left her chambers.

Lyn poured mana into the inscription on the tub as the water lit up to a broil. Servants had provided her with a loofah-like mushroom that she lathered up before scrubbing down – lilac and vanilla scents wafting through the now steaming air. I can get really used to this, she thought as she indulged in the post-sexual glow. Sinking under the water she felt the intense heat roiling around her and grinned before coming up from the liquid. Leaning her head back she plotted her next move.

She knew her limits when it came to the spell types she could use. Internal spells, thank God. I don't know what I would do if I couldn't incant those. For external though…just having lava and wind is pretty shitty. She kicked her legs up on the side of the tub and sighed as she put her hand on her face to support it.

What she really needed was more mana cores. Not just simple ones from common folk. She needed rare mana cores. Like the hero cores, dungeon cores, or monster cores. Hero cores are right out. She knew that once a hero died, their mana core was sent…somewhere. But they didn't linger in the body or become a physical substance that could then be consumed. But dungeon and monster cores are fair game. Those ones she had accumulated plenty of last time. They would give her more types of external spells – increasing her versatility. There was no point in killing regular people – not that she wanted to in the first place – but it was a valid way of slowly, agonizingly gaining more power. But not versatility and new spell types, since they were unlike the hero cores and could access all spell types only limited by their mana capacity. Dungeons would be her best bet...and monsters when she could find them.

Plus, while I'm traveling, I can buy body enhancing tinctures. Or, barring that, collect the raw ingredients myself. Body enhancing was going to be vital if she wanted to stay safe. The more substances she could acquire, the better her body would be at everything. Speed, strength, stamina, thought processing speed. Right now, despite her impressive mana core, mana channels, and potent external spells…she was a glass cannon. Her hand being cut off so easily was testament to that fact. I need to find out how much money I do have. She pulled a cord that hung next to the tub.

A few minutes passed before one of the servant-caste came in, silently bowing. "Fetch one of the elders," Lyn instructed. The servant bowed, left, and returned about five minutes later with elder Bhelarm.

He averted his gaze and bowed deeply at the waist, "Yes, my Lady?"

"What is the status of my treasury?" Lyn asked.

"I will have to verify, your Ladyship. But last we catalogued, the treasury sat at 4,000 Gold Eagles, 36,000 Silver Kestrels, and 240,000 Copper Owls, give or take some coinage."

Lyn nodded. A hefty fortune. Not the most money she'd ever seen – that record went to the time her and the – at the time – fourteen other heroes slew an enormous, tower-sized troll whose treasure hoard held 10,000 Gold Eagles. But it was a sizeable sum of money regardless. "Has the valuation changed in the past ten years?"

"No, your Ladyship. 10 Silver Kestrels, or 100 Copper Owls, are worth 1 Gold Eagle, still. The Free City of Bashinol has kept the rate very consistent." Bhelarm looked up from his bow, raising a hand to block of view of Lyn's nude form in the tub. "Do you wish to pull monies from the treasury?"

"Not at this moment," Lyn muttered. The Demonic Dragon was a goddamn dragon. It should have had a hoard somewhere. But where…If there was one thing she knew about dragons – which had somehow transmigrated to Earth's mythology – it was that dragons in Ghomar hoarded treasure. "Where did my last incarnation spend the most time?"

Bashinol's eyebrow cocked up in puzzlement, "Your throne room in the fortress, your grace."

Lyn closed her eyes and tried to refocus on the image of the throne room. But what greeted her was the rush of memories from fighting the Demonic Dragon. She felt her heart rate rising and her mana roiling within her as she felt a panic attack coming on from the vivid recollection of the pain and fierce combat, she had endured less than three days ago in the grand scheme of time. "Leave me!" she said, more forcefully than she intended, her voice defaulting to the deep, draconic growl.

She closed her eyes and heard the door close. Fuck! She slammed her fist into the side of the tub, put her head under the water, and screamed.

Kory laughed raucously as he passed the woman to his men, slapping her on the rear as one of the lucky recruits took her upstairs. Taking a large tankard of ale, he chugged the whole thing in one go. "Barkeep! More!" He shouted as he slammed a stack of Gold Eagles onto the countertop.

The overweight man came over with a grin, swiping the money and putting several tankards of cool ale on the countertop. Kory knew he was being overcharged, but he didn't care in the slightest. The ale tasted horrible, but the alcohol content was high. "Fight, fuck, feel good!" He shouted as he raised the new mug. His mercenaries raised their flagons and cheered – the ones that weren't busy bending wenches over the tables, that is.

He slammed back the booze as the foggy memories faded from his mind. The horrific images of violence that haunted his waking moments, obliterated by the mix of physical, carnal pleasure and inebriation. The only times he felt relief from the cascading crescendo of seeing his friends and classmates killed in front of him was when he was in the middle of combat. That, being occupied by women, or drunk on whatever he could get his hands on.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"Captain Kory!" The door slammed open as one of his youngest recruits came barging into the combination brothel/bar. "Sir!" He ran up and handed Kory a scroll.

"You think I can read right now?" Kory let out a belch as he grabbed another flagon, "Read it, boy."

The recruit nodded and opened the scroll, "It is from a man named Volio. Ahem. To Kory, it's been a while. Six years if I recall the last time we met up and shared a meal and drink. I trust you're doing well, staying around the dread fortress. Getting to kill the servants of the former Demonic Dragon must be a hell of a thrill! Anyways…I've got a feeling. It's a weird feeling. But…well, I think that Lyn-"

Kory grabbed the scroll from the recruit's hands, fear racing up his spine and shocking him amidst the swirling room and lantern-light. "That's enough," he muttered to the recruit. "I'll read the rest. Fuck off." The recruit bowed and left in a hurry. Kory unrolled the scroll and kept reading.

-is still alive. I know, I know, I've been saying it for years. But I've searched everywhere I can think of. No body means she had to have survived, right? I talked to Cecily and was trying to put together an expedition, but she dismissed me instantly. Can you believe that bitch? Not even giving me two minutes to talk. Just in and out in thirty seconds. Heh. Sounds like something you're familiar with, eh?

Kory's mind glazed over with a pleasant memory. Getting his first taste of real sexual pleasure, under the bleachers at an away game. The woman he was completely enamored with but could never have. Just an occasional fuck. The valedictorian with a talent for driving him crazy. Now she was some pompous princess – not Queen, a princess – who ruled Valagonia. A kingdom she took over and renamed after her own last name. Kory kept reading as he shoved the happy memory from his hazy recollection.

Anyways, I'm still looking for Lyn, and I plan on visiting the region soon. I'm going to head inside the dread fortress. Maybe we missed a trap door or something. If we cross paths, let's get a drink. If you want to check out the inside with me, well, that would be awesome. Hope you're doing well, man. Stay safe. – Volio Mori.

Kori crumpled the scroll and opened the hood of a nearby lantern, chucking it inside before shutting the front. That fucker is batshit crazy going back in there, he thought. Spotting one of the prostitutes having just finished with one of his men, he stood up and grabbed her by the wrist. "My turn," he growled as he lifted her over his shoulder and went upstairs.

Lyn dried off and dressed out in plain clothes once more, since the prior wardrobe was still being altered. Calling both Vael and Gael to escort her – and instructing them to bring a simple short sword for her to use – she led the way back to the trap door. Back through the bloody hallway – cleared of bodies when they discovered her, as she learned. And back into the throne room.

Walking into the chamber, Lyn felt that same sense of urgency and panic rise in her chest. This is where she died. Or at least, where she thought she died. But there's something I have to check. "Gael, use a water spell. I want you to make a puddle around the dais."

Gael nodded and held up his hand, "En ethiel an le / thalion min / an aglaro / aechad / a mîr en-aear." A waterfall burst from his palm as the liquid spread around the dais. Lyn crouched next to the stone slab and saw, to her immense satisfaction, that her instinct was correct. The water was slowly draining down. "We need to lift this," she said, looking back at the two Duskari warriors.

Vael and Gael shared a look before Vael spoke, "Forgive me, my Lady. But we do not have the appropriate spell type for this task."

"How many of the warrior-caste are present in the Conclave?"

"Around five hundred, my Lady," Gael stated.

"And of the servant-caste?"

"Maybe a thousand?" Vael replied.

"Do we have any earth elementalism capable Duskari amongst either group?"

"I'm not sure, my Lady. I don't think it's ever been recorded."

"Gael, go and fetch fifty of the warrior-caste. Tell them to bring crowbars." Lyn stood up as she walked around the dais, looking for a weak-spot where she might be able to dig tools in. I'll also need to have thorough testing done to make a list of who can do what. Her examination was fruitless, and so she sat on a chunk of obsidian.

Vael came over and stood next to her, "My Lady? Are you okay?"

Lyn nodded as she looked around the vast throne room with the shattered roof letting some dappled sunlight in. "This place brings back memories." She shut her eyes and could feel the impact against her chest, echoing as a resonance that caused her mana core to roil. Opening her eyes once more she looked at Vael and sighed. "I died here. And now I'm back here. It's a bit much."

"Permission to sit?" Lyn nodded and Vael sat next to her, couching her spear along her forearm. "I am here to listen, my Lady."

Lyn stared blankly at the wall. The shattered obsidian spire where she had been impaled was still there, as was the bloodstain that had darkened to black on the wall behind. Looking at it sent shivers down her spine, and her vision narrowed. She felt her head swirling and reached over, gripping Vael's leg, tethering herself to the here-and-now.

"My Lady? Are you unwell?"

Lyn looked at the woman and let the red eyes pierce into her own, washing away the recollections of that room and the past by reliving the memories of her sexual activities with Vael. It pushed back the memories, thankfully. "I'm fine. Still recovering from my reincarnation," she lied. "Tell me of the Duskari command structure," she instructed – hoping to get her mind off things.

"When you aren't ruling, the three oldest Duskari make the big decisions. The elders. They rule as a council. We…don't really have a command structure for the warrior-caste."

"That needs to change," Lyn muttered. "When this small expedition is over, I have plans that will need to be enacted. I'm appointing you and Gael as my personal cohort."

Vael stood up instantly and saluted, clasping her right fist to her torso and bowing at the waist, "My Lady, it is my honor." She looked up from the bow with a sheepish grin. "We will serve you faithfully forevermore."

Lyn nodded and stood as the sound of booted feet reached her ears. A few moments later, Gael entered, leading a group of fifty men and women Duskari, all with spears and swords sheathed, and holding lengths of raw iron. Gael saluted and bowed in front of her, the rest of the warriors following suit. "My Lady, we do not have crowbars, but the smiths are working on several."

"It is fine," Lyn said. "Follow my instructions…" She spent the next few minutes ordering the warriors to place the jagged iron rods into various crevices and cracks – not wanting to risk using lava and destroying what might be under the throne. Once they were all in place, they all used the simple internal spell to empower their physique, and their muscles swelled.

"Now!" she shouted, and they all pushed down, slowly levering up the enormous slab of granite. More rods were inserted in the gap, and they continued to push it sideways until there was a gap large enough for a person to fit through. Lyn peered down and saw a set of stairs, spiraling downward. "A little more!" The Duskari heaved and shifted positions, revealing half of the staircase. There was panting mixed with mutters. "Good work. Take the day off."

The Duskari looked at each other, confused, and one raised their hand. "My Lady? What do you mean?"

Right. Colloquialisms aren't the same. Damn, what phrase did they use… She shook her head, "I don't need your assistance anymore. Do as you will," she muttered, waving at them dismissively.

They turned to each other, shrugged, and went back to the hallway and the hidden entrance to the Conclave. Gael stayed and talked in hushed tones with Vael, becoming quite excited before bowing once more. "My Lady, thank you for this honor!"

Lyn nodded and pulled her short sword from its hip-sheath. "Sure. Now come along." I knew that dragon bastard had a hoard somewhere.