Chapter 372: Who You Are Speaking To
"My Lord. It has failed again." A raspy voice, thick with fear.
The next second, the figure in the dark grey robe flies across the cave and crashes into the far wall. He does not dare make a sound. He hits the ground and drops immediately into a bow so deep his forehead presses against the cave floor.
"My Lord, have mercy!" He hisses, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know my failure. I will do it again. I will not stop until I succeed!"
He repeats it like a prayer, his forehead striking the cave floor in rhythm with the words, over and over, until the stone beneath him is wet.
A black shadow hand lifts and waves once. Dismissal.
"Thank you, my Lord. Thank you." He retreats without rising, crawling backward through the cave entrance until the darkness swallows him whole.
Outside the cave, Morden gets to his feet and brushes the dirt from his knees with both hands. He wipes his bleeding forehead on the back of his wrist and then wipes that on his robe, which is already too dirty to notice the difference.
His hunched posture makes him look older than he probably is, and more fragile than he likely is.
"The Lord is displeased." He mutters to himself, moving away from the cave entrance at a slow, uneven limp. "I need to do better. But I have run out of objects." He pauses, thinking. "I will need to find more."
He limps on, already turning the problem over in his mind.
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"I beg your pardon, Your Ladyship?" Ethan blinks.
"Have you gone deaf, Bartlett?" The Baroness snaps, the way she always does when addressing her so-called students.
"I said, I want your next training session to take place inside a dungeon." She says it with complete calm, as though this is the most reasonable thing anyone has said all week.
"The six of us. You, your team, and me. We are going to clear a dungeon together as part of your training."
She smirks.
"And not a low-level one. Level seven at minimum. Level eight if we can find one."
Ethan draws a sharp breath.
"With all due respect, Your Ladyship, I do not believe we are ready to attempt a level seven dungeon with only six people. A level eight even less so." He chooses his words with care.
The Baroness’s smirk does not waver. "What exactly are you afraid of? I will be going in with you." She says it as though that settles the matter entirely.
The Hunters exchange glances.
"Forgive me for asking, Your Ladyship." Ethan says, even more carefully than before. "But have you ever actually cleared a dungeon?"
The Baroness looks at Ethan the way someone looks at a person who has just said something spectacularly dim.
"My experience is irrelevant. What matters is my strength. I will ensure your safety." She says it with such absolute conviction that Ethan finds himself, against his better judgment, half believing her.
He looks at the rest of the Hunters.
Hawk is frowning. Today is his first day back to training after the ribs, and while he can see his teammates have improved, a level seven dungeon with six people is an entirely different conversation. He catches Ethan’s eye.
Ethan looks at him, asking without words.
Hawk gives the faintest shake of his head.
No. We cannot, Ethan.
He does not trust the Baroness, and he certainly does not trust her as their safety net. Part of him, a not insignificant part, would enjoy watching her walk into a high-level dungeon and find out what that actually means. But their lives would be on the line alongside hers.
Ethan catches Hawk’s signal and inwardly smirks.
Watch me.
"Your Ladyship." Ethan begins, and this is the first time he has genuinely resented being the Hunters’ leader and therefore their spokesperson. "I am grateful for the opportunity to witness your capabilities firsthand. However, I must respectfully inform you that entering a dungeon of any level is not as straightforward as it may appear."
The Baroness does not respond. Ethan takes that as permission to continue.
"The most significant challenge is not assembling a capable team. The most significant challenge is finding the right dungeon." He keeps his tone measured and his words deliberate, talking in careful circles, buying himself time to find the right way to say no without becoming a target.
"Dungeons of all levels are catalogued and monitored by the Concordia Dungeon Authority, a division of the Concordia Government under which the Dungeon Clearing Emergency Unit also falls. To enter any dungeon at level six or above, a clearing team must hold the appropriate permits and licenses. Processing alone takes no fewer than fourteen working days."
"As we are not a registered clearing team in Concordia, we would first need to procure a temporary license. The paperwork alone is considerable, Your Ladyship." He lets the bureaucratic weight of it settle in the air before pressing on.
"Furthermore, because our existing permit is registered in our country of origin, Aurenvale, we would need to apply as an international clearing team rather than a standard one. This particular permit is in exceptionally high demand. No fewer than one hundred applications are submitted per day, and the processing office handles thirty to forty at most. The backlog alone..." He sighs, shaking his head with what appears to be genuine sorrow. "Is a nightmare."
"Let us assume, for the sake of argument, that we obtain both licenses. We would still need to locate a suitable dungeon. The majority of level seven and above dungeon permits are already held by large established companies, Your Ladyship." Ethan folds his hands in front of him, the picture of regretful professionalism.
"Acquiring access to one of those would require considerable funds."
He pauses and shakes his head slowly, as though the thought genuinely pains him. "Funds that, unfortunately, the Hunters do not currently possess. We are a relatively young team, Your Ladyship. Still building."
He finishes with a small, apologetic smile.
"So as you can see, Your Ladyship, while we are absolutely willing and eager to undertake this challenge at your direction, there are a considerable number of obstacles standing between us and that dungeon door."
Ethan holds his sad smile as he delivers the closing words. Then he lifts his head to gauge the Baroness’s reaction.
His heart gives a small jump.
She is wearing the exact same expression she had at the beginning of his explanation. Not bored. Not frustrated. Just watching.
She takes a shallow breath.
"I am not stupid. I am well aware that paperwork is designed to pour cold water over ambition. And I do not blame you for it. Countries impose these regulations and red tape to protect their own registered teams from outside competition."
She pauses.
"What I do not understand is how you managed to forget who you are speaking to."
A beat of silence.
"I am Baroness Maristella Voss. Grand Aunt to His Majesty King Killian of Valestria." She lets the name sit in the air for a moment. "My influence extends considerably further than anything you have likely had occasion to encounter."
She opens both palms, a gesture that manages to be simultaneously gracious and absolute.
"I can expedite the process. Every part of it. All that is required of you is to prepare yourselves. When the time comes, you will enter that dungeon and clear it alongside me."
She says it the way someone announces a gift, as though she is conferring upon them the greatest honor they will ever receive.
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"I cannot believe you just let that happen, Bartlett." Carter says.
The Hunters are back in their rented apartment, the door barely closed before the conversation starts.
Ethan scoffs. "What exactly was I supposed to say after the ’I am Baroness Maristella Voss’ speech?" He mimics her delivery with uncomfortable accuracy. "And do not put this on me. If any of you know a better way to refuse her, you are welcome to try it next time."
"Does this mean we are actually going into a level seven or eight dungeon with her?" Taylor looks like someone who has just been told his own funeral date.
"This is how I die. This is exactly how I die." He sits down and puts his head between his knees.
"Would you relax." J.C. says, his tone sharp with irritation. "We do not even know if she can actually cut through all that paperwork. She might be bluffing."
"What do you think, Hawk?" Ethan asks. He always asks Hawk. Second in command for a reason.
Hawk takes a slow breath.
"I think we need to prepare ourselves for the possibility that she is not bluffing." He looks around at each of them.
"Every one of us knows personally how dangerous a level seven is. And based on everything I have seen from the Baroness so far, she is going to aim for an Eight."
Another breath.
"Which could be our death warrants."
He clenches his jaw. "We need to find a way to prevent that from happening."