Vortena Read online

  Everybody Loves Large Chests

  Volume Three: Vortena

  A book by Neven Iliev

  Prologue

  Edward Allen, Royal Spymaster to the Lodrak Empire, stood in the extravagant courtyard of the imperial palace, his wizened face frowning intently at a griffin’s butt. It wasn’t so much that he was looking specifically at the thing’s ass, but it was impossible not to have the titanic rump in his field of vision. What he was actually focused on was the enormous steel cargo container strapped immediately above said behind. More specifically, at the place where the doors to the giant metal box had been ripped from their hinges and the two empty cages within.

  “So. Someone care to explain what happened here?” he asked the subordinates gathered around him.

  “Reporting that the prisoner has escaped,” the woman next to him stated.

  “Brilliant observation, Zone,” Edward covered his face with one hand. “I am so lucky to have such an attentive aide that it almost hurts to think about it.”

  Zone’s face remained as expressionless as ever, though a light blush appeared on her cheeks. Praise from Edward was rare, so she couldn’t help but be pleased by what she thought were words of encouragement.

  “Uh, Zone? That wasn’t a compliment,” the man next to her rolled his eyes. “He was –”

  “Forget it, Bandit,” Edward interrupted. “You know she’s immune to sarcasm. Or common sense, for that matter.”

  “Well, forgive an old dog for holding out hope at least one of our merry little band might be normal,” Bandit sighed.

  “I could probably fix her if you let me.”

  A hooded man had arrived on the scene.

  “Just need a few weeks alone with her and I promise I can make Zone here into the perfect servant.”

  “Reporting that operative Hook is in immediate threat of decapitation via roundhouse kick,” Zone’s monotone voice carried a hint of menace.

  “Oh, scary, scary!” he said mockingly. “As if that would work on me.”

  “Requesting that operative Hook update his codename to Hooded Baldy.”

  “Pffft! Hahaha!”

  Bandit, who had been trying to sneak a shot of liquor from his hip flask, spat it out in a fit of laughter.

  “Hooded Baldy!” he chuckled. “That fits perfectly! Ahahaha! Aha… Ah, fuck, I just spilt my Volcanic Vodka.”

  The drink in question was difficult to come by around these parts. One would be hard-pressed to find it even within its birthplace – the Horkensaft Kingdom to the northeast. The dwarves and gnomes of the kingdom were known for their exotic booze, but Volcanic Vodka was special. It was one of the few gnomish-made liquors, though it was an acquired taste rather than a delicacy, which made it even harder to find.

  Getting the stuff all the way to the Empire added yet another layer of difficulty, as direct travel between the two countries required one to pass over the treacherous Oculus Sea. It was a massive body of water at the heart of the continent, so named for the eye-like imprint it left on the map. It had once been dry land, but millennia ago the entire region had sunk into the depths of the earth, taking an ancient civilisation or two along with it. A place like that naturally contained all sorts of hazards, from extreme weather conditions and incomprehensible currents to deadly sea creatures.

  Suffice to say, if Bandit wanted more of his drink, he’d have to get it himself. Though that would hardly be a problem. The dashing gentleman with black hair was responsible for providing logistical support to the Gilded Hand, Edward’s personal spy ring. Some might call his activities ‘smuggling’ or ‘trafficking,’ but ‘logistical support’ sounded much better on paper. He was good at it too, perhaps even the best. It was often said within the organisation that if Bandit couldn’t get something, nobody could. Going straight to the Kingdom and back merely to fuel his appreciation for good alcohol was entirely within his capabilities.

  “This is my last bit of it, too,” he grumbled, putting the flask away. “Gonna have to stock up the next time I have a mission over in pipsqueak territory.”

  Unfortunately, his responsibilities kept him from taking such flights of fancy.

  “If you three are done horsing around, then I suggest you do your blasted jobs,” Edward waved his hand. “Bandit, stop getting shitfaced and go put your worthless griffins away.”

  “Hey now, there’s no need for that,” Bandit complained. “Fluffles and Puff did nothing wrong.”

  “Ugh,” Hook groaned. “What sort of Monster Tamer gives cutesy names like those to flying war machines?”

  “The kind that will bash your damn head in if you–”

  “Hook. Stop antagonising Bandit and contact Question,” Edward commanded. “Fill him in and tell him to wrap things up on his end post-haste; I’ll need him to track down our escaped prisoner.”

  “… Yes, sir.”

  “Zone, go draw up a map of our route over the Sawblade Mountains. We’ll need to organise a search right away.”

  The agents began diligently carrying out the Spymaster’s instructions. Even if they bickered and argued over trivial things, the Gilded Hand was nevertheless a tightly knit outfit. It was Edward’s inner circle, and one didn’t become part of it without proving their loyalty and ability at least a dozen times over. Granted, they were by no means the biggest powerhouses in the Empire when it came to combat, but their influence and political power within both the royal court and the underworld made them a force to be reckoned with.

  A specially-designed pulley system soon relieved the griffins of their loads and deposited the boxes on the ground in front of them. Bandit led the creatures back to their roosts while Zone quietly and dispassionately compiled the information that her boss had requested. The ‘hooded baldy,’ meanwhile, contacted their missing colleague with his formidable mind magic. He would have preferred to use his abilities to rip the secrets from the mind of Edward’s captive, but that was clearly no longer an option. Such a shame, too.

  He’d never heard a mimic scream before, so he’d been rather looking forward to it.

  “Uh, sir? Question says he’s already got an idea what happened to our suspect,” reported Hook. “He says it’s your fault it got away.”

  “Of course he does. Though he may actually have a point this time. Come with me, I’m going to inspect the container and I need you and your psychotic brain to try to pick up any residual thoughts.”

  “I think you meant to say ‘psionic’ there, sir.”

  “I know what I said. Now move it.”

  “… Yes, sir.”

  The two headed inside the slightly wrecked metal box and began their inspection. There were three points of interest there: the broken hinges, the gnome’s mangled cage, and the mobile jail cell where Boxxy was supposed to be restrained, yet was currently wide open.

  The first of those didn’t reveal much information, other than the fact that the doors were very clearly no longer attached to the container. Though the prisoner should not have been able to tear them off with brute strength given the Attributes and Levels it had, there were other ways this could’ve happened. For example, if that crafty creature had somehow broken the lock, then the doors would’ve flown wide-open mid-flight. Their hinges weren’t designed to handle those kinds of violent air currents, so it would’ve been only a matter of time before the metal joints snapped.

  The real question was: How had the locks come undone in the first place? Hook was unable to pick up any abnormalities around the massive crate’s entrance, but Edward spotted some peculiar marks along the floor and walls. It looked as though some sort of highly corrosive acid had been used to eat away at them, but there were no remnants of the liquid left anywhere in the area. The Spymaster was a Level 59 Alchemist, so he was sure that this was not the
work of an alchemical compound, but rather something created entirely by magic.

  Next was the cage where Cornie Fizzlesprocket had been held. It had been torn into from the outside, almost as though it had been chewed. This was where Hook’s Psionic Skills kicked in. Called Psychometry, this ability allowed him to perceive the ‘feelings’ that the object had been subjected to. It had its limitations, of course, but the cage was still ‘warm,’ so it was no trouble for him to get a reading on its recent history.

  “What do you have for me?” Edward inquired.

  Hook removed his hand from the mangled remains of Fizzy’s prison and stood, brushing the grime from his knees.

  “Nothing but fear, loathing, and misery,” he replied. “The most vivid images I got were a set of gigantic teeth crushing the bars, followed by a small, pink-haired woman disappearing into them. It cuts off abruptly after that.”

  “Ah. So, it seems one of our missing persons has been eaten. A shame.”

  The gnome had been far too big a security risk for Edward to even consider letting her go free. The plan had been for Hook to rip the sensitive information from her noggin, after which she would be put to work designing and producing weaponry for the Empire. There were other ways of doing that, of course, but this had been a rare chance to use a master Artificer without the Horkensaft Kingdom’s knowledge or permission. Those shorties kept a tight lid on their mechanical wonders and refused any requests from the Lodrak Empire to share those secrets in any way, shape, or form. Even though the two nations were officially on friendly terms at the moment, the Kingdom wasn’t stupid enough to lend even more strength to a military powerhouse like the Empire.

  All things considered, Edward viewed the gnome’s apparent death as a minor footnote. A missed opportunity to do some ‘good’ for the Empire. In short – a shame.

  “You sure about that, sir?” Hook asked. “Typically, a violent death leaves a more… noticeable mark.”

  “She was gobbled up by a malicious, starving monster. One who wouldn’t have even been in our custody if she hadn’t turned on it. Frankly, I’d have already written her off as dead even without your Psychometry if it wasn’t for the possibility that the Mimic had outside assistance.”

  “You think someone broke the prisoner out, sir? Mid-flight? At that altitude?”

  Hook was well aware that magic could be used to facilitate flight. He himself had one such Spell at his disposal, unsurprisingly called ‘Flight.’ However, there were limits to the speed and heights one could reach through such methods, and griffins could surpass those easily. Yet Edward appeared to be suggesting that someone had managed not only to intercept them in-transit, but also break the prisoner out without the griffin’s senses picking up on such a dangerous individual.

  It was by no means impossible, but it was highly unlikely, to say the least.

  “The evidence would appear to suggest it. See, here.” Edward led his subordinate to the back of the container and the remains of the monster’s cage. “The control box was shorted out with magically conjured acid.”

  “Hmm, I seem to remember something about that,” Hook said thoughtfully. “Didn’t the report say that some of the guards it killed just before its capture were covered in acid burns?”

  “Exactly. It may be a mimic, but our ‘friend’ can somehow spit caustic fluid. That was why I had it bound with mana-draining shackles. It should have been impossible for it to conjure acid from thin air on zero MP.”

  “But… it still did?”

  “That’s what someone wants us to think. See here – the cage is unlocked. Unlocked. Not mangled or forced open, and there are no scratches to indicate that it was tampered with. I daresay someone used a key to allow it to escape. The acid is only there to cover their involvement.”

  “How do you know it didn’t slip out of its restraints somehow?”

  “Are those eyes of yours just for decoration? Look at your feet!”

  Hook immediately realised what his superior officer was referring to. The floor was covered in what had once been viscous yellow mimic blood, but had since dried into a foul-looking gunk with an odd orange-brown colouration. There were also bits of dead flesh and a few metal bolts, which had been firmly glued to the floor by the grotesque residue.

  “… Someone carved out its restraints?”

  “Certainly looks that way,” Edward’s voice was grim. “Which is why I want you to confirm what you can with your Psychometry.”

  “Right. Best get to it, then.”

  The Psionic stepped up to the cage and gripped two of the bars. He closed his eyes and ‘listened.’ Monsters were more difficult to read than people since their minds worked differently, so he was expecting to have to dig deep. Yet almost immediately he was assaulted with visions. Images of pure white knives digging into flesh flashed beneath his eyelids, nightmare-inducing screams rang in his ears, and a profound sense of agony stabbed into his brain.

  Under the circumstances, it was only natural that he’d scream.

  “Fuuuck!” Hook recoiled in shock. “Holy shit, that took me by surprise!”

  “What? What did?”

  “This cage is suffused with suffering. It’s so overwhelming that I can hardly feel anything else.”

  “Any chance it could’ve… done this on its own, somehow?”

  Hook took a long look at the cage. After a second, he shook his head.

  “This is beyond a wild beast chewing off its own leg that’s been caught in a trap. There’s a limit to how much self-harm a body will allow its owner to inflict before their own reflexes and instincts put a stop to it. I can’t imagine any living being capable of inflicting this much pain upon itself. But I’m no expert on monsters, so I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”

  Edward carefully considered Hook’s words. Although monsters did follow certain behavioural patterns, deviations and anomalies had been known to occur. But ultimately, the narrative just didn’t fit. Even if his prisoner had had the means and determination to gouge out its own flesh, it wouldn’t have had the MP to disable the cage’s electric field. Even if it could have escaped its bindings, it would have just fallen to the bottom of the cage and been zapped into unconsciousness, then death.

  “So, someone else cut its restraints away after all?”

  It was the more likely scenario by far.

  “Looks that way, sir.” Hook confirmed.

  “Can you tell me anything about them?”

  “No. Like I said, the agony attached to this thing is so overpowering that I can’t make out anything else. But if I were to offer my professional opinion? Whoever did this made sure it hurt as much as possible, just because he could. A real sick piece of work, to be sure.”

  Hook’s words carried quite a bit of weight given that he was the leading expert on ‘special interrogation techniques’ within the Gilded Hand.

  “Takes one to know one, I suppose,” Edward mumbled.

  Which was a fancy way of saying that Hook was an irredeemable, sadistic bastard who enjoyed torturing people for funsies. His mental methods were far more effective for extracting information, but there were advantages to his more physical practices as well. Admittedly, breaking people through pain and suffering was barbaric, but the Spymaster knew from experience that it was an effective way of making them subservient and obedient. It was something he could always fall back on as a last resort, since not everyone could be coerced through bribery, trickery, or holding loved ones hostage.

  In fact, Cornie Fizzlesprocket had been one such person. If everything had gone as planned, she would have been ‘educated’ by Hook to make sure she didn’t get any bright ideas while carrying out Edward’s wishes. She had definitely seemed like the sort of sheltered and naive person that could easily be controlled through fear and torture, though that was something of a moot point now.

  “Hook, get in touch with Question. Tell him everything we’ve learned and to begin working on tracking down our mystery jailbreaker. After that, info
rm Mist to start looking into dungeon core extraction techniques.”

  “Yes, sir. What about the Emperor? He’s going to want a report on our progress with the Calamity investigation.”

  “So?”

  “So… what do I tell him?”

  Edward had initially instructed Hook to keep the truth behind Boxxy’s identity as the likely perpetrator under wraps. The monster they’d been bringing back was supposedly a ‘strong lead,’ nothing more.

  “That’s simple. We’ll tell him the truth,” Edward said. “With the aid of their spies inside the Empire, an elite agent from the Ishigar Republic removed their pet mass-murderer from our custody in order to cover their tracks.”

  That would surely be more than enough to convince their hot-headed buffoon of an Emperor to not only declare war on the elven nation but also to give his Spymaster more authority and freedom. All in the name of national security, of course. Edward’s closest compatriots were, of course, well aware of his plans. They knew just as well as he did that this ‘Boxxy T. Morningwood’ had no ties whatsoever to the Ishigar Republic.

  Or at least, that had been the case prior to the Calamity of Monotal. Someone important had clearly taken an interest in the thing for them to dare to snatch it from Edward’s clutches so brazenly. But as of right now they had no evidence that the elves were responsible.

  “… Uh, sir?” Hook spoke up. “I don’t mean to question your methods or whatnot, but half of what you just said sounded made up.”

  “And?” asked the Spymaster.

  “And… how is that telling the Emperor the truth?”

  “Come now, Hook. You should know better than to ask that by now,” Edward smirked, giving him a light tap on the side the head. “The truth isn’t a matter of factual accuracy. It’s a matter of perspective and belief. And that gullible moron? He’ll see and believe anything that furthers his needs.”

  Chapter One

  Of Gnomes and Monsters

  Part One

  Fizzy and Boxxy trudged through the woods. It had been five days since their escape and subsequent meeting with Reginald, the God of Impossibility. Right now they were mostly wandering around aimlessly, looking for signs of an undead incursion or some form of civilisation that might offer information. The gnome had already been relieved of her prisoner’s rags and outfitted with items from Boxxy’s Storage.