Disclaimer: "Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?" is owned by Fujino Ōmori, who is most definitely not me.
Author's Note: It suddenly occurred to me that this might need some explanation.
This is a plot bunny that's been running around my head for a while, and I needed to let it out some. Hopefully, this will add some variety for anyone reading my stories.
Aaaand that's it. Now without further ado, let the story begin.
Prologue
A long time ago, on a world like ours but different in many ways, there was a land divided into three countries and ruled by three pantheons.
The country to the north was called Yggdrasil: a land of frozen wastes, high mountains, and deep forests. Composed of eight provinces (with the underworld considered to be the ninth), they were ruled by the Asgard, who in turn were ruled with an iron fist by One-Eyed Odin. His people were fierce raiders and far-reaching sailors who explored the seas in longships that could reach the far sides of the known world. Though they fought in disciplined formations under skilled generals, they were best known for the brutal fury of their berserkers, who fought like savages without regard for the lives of others or even their own.
The country to the south was called Kemet: a land of vast deserts with shocking patches of green wherever there was water, and a solid double line of deep green following a mighty river flowing through the middle of the country. This land was ruled by a vast collection of gods known collectively as the Divine Family and was headed by their patriarch Ra, Lord of the Sun. Their lands were protected by the combination of vast and impenetrable deserts, their mighty fortress-cities, and the armored fist of their heavy cavalry.
In between the two in the middle, scattered amongst countless islands and port cities, was Hellas: the lands of the Olympians and their city-states, the poleis. Though Zeus was technically the king of the gods, he was ineffectual as a ruler, preferring to spend his days lusting after beautiful women and men (regardless of consent) and blasting anyone and anything that so much as annoyed him with lightning bolts. Thus, the burden of actual leadership and governing fell to Athena, and it was this that she excelled at. Under her guidance, each individual polis developed the unique method of electing their leaders, resulting in a fierce and independent people. Though they frequently squabbled amongst themselves, the moment an outside foe threatened one city-state, the others would band together to destroy the foreign enemy before finally returning to their squabbling once the enemy had been vanquished.
Though Yggdrasil, Kemet, and Hellas frequently warred with one another, they were small skirmishes at best with only the occasional border town changing hands at leisurely paces. Trade was the order of the day between the countries, and all three grew fat and wealthy off of mercantile efforts both with each other and with far-off countries. Peace was the order of the day, and everyone thought it would last as long as the gods themselves until the end of time.
All that changed one fateful day.
In a city called Roma, in the northern reaches of Hellaean territory, the people were busy going about their day. The markets were bustling with shoppers, children were playing in the streets, and men relaxed after a hard day's work. You could've hardly faulted them for not noticing that the restless behavior of the horses, the frantic barking of the dogs, and the flapping of countless wings as birds all took to the air at once. You could've hardly faulted them either for not reacting much to the shuddering, since the region was prone to low level quakes that were no more than annoyances at best.
That day was not one of those days.
The shuddering grew worse and worse. Buildings wobbled on their foundations and people had trouble even walking, staggering about like drunks after a hard night's drinking. The people realized that this quake was different and began running for open ground, but it was far too late. Cracks opened into yawning chasms in the ground, buildings collapsed as they were shaken apart, and the earth liquefied from the shaking, turning solid dirt into treacherous quicksand that swallowed people whole.
Finally, fissures cracked open the ground. The entire city seemed to float for just a moment before it all fell. By the time it was over, there was nothing left of Roma but a giant sinkhole with a few collapsed and burning buildings at the edges and the few survivors staring in numb shock at what remained of their home and people.
However, the effects of the quake were not just limited to Roma alone. The quake spread from there to the entire land, weakening as it travelled but not enough. Not nearly enough.
A tidal wave washed over the southern shores of the Yggdrasil peninsula, drowning the coastal settlements and ports there, and volcanoes all over the country suddenly began erupting with unmatched fury. The country burned and choked as rivers of lava poured out and seared the land, and ashes rained down to blacken the soil.
The great Iteru River that fed Kemet suffocated under a river of silt and mud that flowed from further inland, simultaneously choking the life out of the desert country as its largest source of freshwater was reduced to a mere trickle.
Hellas was drowned under a wave that rose higher than most mountains. Most islands were swamped by the wave, and only those that were shielded by other islands survived at least somewhat intact. The only other survivors were the people at sea, and those fortunate underwater cities that were too deep to be affected by the wave.
Combined with the quakes, the loss of life in the three countries was staggering. People believed it was the end of the world. The whole disaster would eventually be named "Ragnarok" by the people of Yggdrasil: a name which eventually spread to other lands as well.
After it was all over, the survivors were confused and desperate for help…and answers. Eventually, their investigations led them to the sinkhole once known as Roma. There, what was left of the Roman garrison led the investigators to a hole kilometers wide and seeming to have no bottom they could see. What really fascinated the investigators though was the fact that there seemed to be stairways winding around the edge of the hole. The stairways were huge, with each step wide enough to fit dozens of men standing with outstretched arms next to each other and long enough to fit dozens more lying end to end. Each step though, was no taller than a normal step, producing an odd image of tapeworms crawling down into the abyss. Finally, and most disturbingly, the steps had no signs of tool marks on them, as though they had grown out of the stone rather than being hewn by any hands, mortal or immortal.
The investigators sent their best men down the stairs, eager to discover what laid at the bottom. Days later, the men returned. Or rather, the survivors came back with tales of deep branching caves, strange glowing fungi that lit them up, and hostile monsters patrolling them that attacked any they saw. The descriptions of the monsters by the men were as bizarre as they were terrifying, and the investigators would've had trouble even believing the men if not for the fact that the men were followed. A horde of monsters rampaged up the stairs after the surviving men, forcing the investigators and the garrison troops to defend themselves against the onslaught. Though the battle was eventually won, the casualties were many. With so few men left at their disposal, the investigators called in a higher authority: their gods.
A meeting was held between the three different pantheons near the hole. Each pantheon brought whatever army that could be mustered from their surviving people, along with large bands of women and children that followed them in the hopes of finding food, shelter, and protection. A great debate arose in the ranks of the immortal. Some argued that they should be exploring the depths of the caves to find out what laid in them, while others argued that they should be walling the hole off to prevent the monsters within from spilling out and threatening the world.
No consensus could be reached amongst them, even after weeks. Men had trouble agreeing on what toppings they wanted on their focaccia. Why should gods be any more agreeable?
Finally, it all came to a boil when Zeus and Poseidon, in their immortal stupidity, managed to convince a large portion of Hellas's army to follow them on an expedition down the sinkhole against the standing orders of both Athena and Ares. Odin, not wishing to be outdone, led a large portion of Yggdrasil's army down while Thor ran after them, determined to stop his father and leaving behind only a command that no one follow him. Seeing the possibility that Kemet would be left behind in the race, Osiris commanded his wife Isis and a large portion of Kemet's army down the hole after the other two armies before Ra could stop them.
Days passed as the other gods waited for their return. The days then became weeks. Then months. Then years. In all that time, only a trickle of survivors came back in ones and twos, sometimes small groups if they were lucky. Those survivors were to a man broken, gibbering madly about the horrors in the deeper caves and too busy ripping their eyes out in the sun to offer coherent reports. In any case, the people receiving the reports were too busy defending against the waves of monsters that followed the survivors to figure out the ravings of madmen.
And in all that time, not a single one of the gods that went down there was ever seen again. It was inconceivable to the other gods that a god could be killed, with their immortality and superhuman abilities. Yet as decades passed without any sign of the missing gods, the pantheons finally declared them dead, with only the direct family of the missing gods still holding out hope for their return to this day.
It was only after this that the remaining gods finally came to a consensus. High walls would be built around the hole, with ballistae mounted on bastions facing inward in case something were to try to fly out. Extensive forts would be maintained at each stairwell, manned by great numbers of soldiers to defend against more monster incursions. A veritable city grew up around the emerging forts to fuel their construction and maintain the men's morale. In time, it became a city in actuality.
The gods themselves took up residence in the city, and in time the monster invasions became fewer and fewer in number as their numbers were thinned out. Heavily armed explorers once more probed the caves. When a band of explorers returned hauling great chunks of gold ore they found imbedded in the walls, the race was on. Brave explorers dove into the caverns, looking to strike it rich like that lucky band. Though many died on these mining expeditions, many more didn't. The city itself grew rich off of the minerals mined from the caves, and it in turn found itself growing large enough to deserve a name:
Aurea, after the local word for "golden", referring to how rich the city was getting and in honor of the precious metal that started it all.
Our story now began 310 years later…
Ch.1: The Wee Mad Bunny
Year of Founding 310 (Y.F. 310)
A 15-year old boy ran down a tunnel lit only by glowing fungi as fast as his legs could carry him. His pale skin was flushed from the exercise, and the platinum blond hair hidden underneath a slightly rusty and a bit oversized kettle hat was soaked from sweat. His slight chest heaved from the running, and his red eyes carefully scanned the floor ahead of him for any obstacles that might trip him up or slow him down.
And he couldn't afford that at all, for at that moment he was being pursued something fierce.
He chanced a backwards glance to make sure that it was still following him. He made out the silhouette of the giant soldier ant that he'd baited into chasing him by the simple expedient of tossing a rock at the worker ant it had been guarding. The thing was the size of a large dog, with a gigantic armored and eyeless head dominated by a pair of monstrously large curving mandibles and a pair of waving antennae in between them. The mandibles yawned open, ready to snap shut and shear the enemy in two if it could only get the miserable human that had tried to attack its charges within range.
And Bell Mac Cranell was most certainly not going to let it do that.
As Bell continued to run, he paid careful attention the path in front of him. At a certain point, he made a long jump before suddenly stopping and turning around to face his attacker. The boy then held out both arms and shouted: "Come at me then if you have the bullocks for it!"
The giant ant soldier did not know why its prey had done this, nor did it respond since it did not know how to (though if it did, it would've been insulted at the boy mistaking it for a male), nor did she care. She just continued to charge forward with mandibles at the ready-
And suddenly she was falling, the "ground" underneath her having suddenly given way, revealing itself to be nothing more than a large piece of cloth covered with dirt and weighed down with rocks. She hit the bottom of a pit trap the boy had dug into the ground some time ago. Admirably, she immediately charged forward almost as soon as she hit the ground and ran into the side of the pit wall, which she then attempted to climb.
Unfortunately, the armored exoskeleton that so protected her from most attacks weighed her down and made her a poor climber compared to her tiny cousins, and that same exoskeleton meant that she could only dream of jumping. She snapped her mandibles furiously at the boy above as he calmly took out a sling and a lead bullet from a pouch. She watched (in a manner of speaking) as the boy placed the pellet in the sling's pouch, whirled it in a clockwise arc until it was a blur, and then released it at a point just in between and above her antennae where her brain was. Thereafter, the ant suddenly found herself in ant heaven, where she noticed that there were workers that needed guarding and happily did so, knowing that there was no threat here and that there would never be.
Bell grinned as he watched the ant drop to the ground, with the crack in its head leaking out green blood at a good rate through the lead bullet still lodged in the center of the crack. Its limbs twitched and jerked at random like a broken clockwork toy, still giving it the semblance of life despite the utter lack of it.
And now the real work began. He hopped down into the pit, lit a lamp to see better, and began the work of butchering the giant ant for useful parts.
First, he pulled out his trusty hunting knife from its sheathe on his lower right leg and cut off both antennae at their base, which he then bound with twine and stuffed into his backpack. There was a bounty on all monsters in the underground, with different species fetching varying prices. In general, the more dangerous a monster was, the higher the bounty, and the bounty officials won't pay without some proof that you did indeed slay the monster in question. Fortunately, a body part or two was sufficient to open the coffers of all but the stingiest of officials, and he'd learned how to deal with people like that.
Next, he pried out the lead bullet from the crack with the same knife and put it back in its pouch. "Never waste anything if you can help it," his lady had always said.
Then, he cut loose the plates of the thorax and abdomen and stuffed them into his rucksack. No one knew what the exoskeleton of the giant ant was made of, but it was very tough and light for its strength and therefore was highly prized for crafting armor. Bell could either sell it for a hefty sum, or save it to someday take to an armorer to craft into new armor. So many possibilities…
Finally, he searched through the guts of the abdomen to collect the venom gland. The large amount of ant venom in that gland could be sold for a high price to armorers, doctors, farmers, tanners, alchemists, scullery maids, and–oddly enough–beekeepers. For those reasons it was one of the most highly prized parts of the giant ant, as evidenced by the way Bell carefully wrapped it in waxed paper and put it into a tin container. It was a dirty job, but that one organ could easily fetch enough money to feed a family of 3 for days, and his family only consisted of 2 people counting himself.
There were other parts he could've collected, but they were either not valuable enough to take or were just too troublesome to carry.
As he carried on with his butchering, he hummed cheerfully to himself. It was a tune his grandfather had taught him as a young lad. It was cheerful ditty about a brave lad going off to the big city of Dubh Linn for the very first time and his many misadventures on the way there. Despite the emptiness and danger of the Underground, Bell didn't feel all that frightened of it. It reminded him of the journey he took to get to Aurea, only a little darker and with more dangerous beasties to hunt and kill. There was certainly a difference between a wolf and the giant soldier ant he was currently taking apart, but he rather liked the challenge.
At last, he'd finished with the butchering. He was just about to collect the large piece of cloth he'd used to disguise the pit for further use when he heard a noise that made him stop. It sounded like a distant bellowing roar, like the sound a really angry cow made when it was on the rampage.
'Huh. Did someone lose a cow down here? Nae, that makes no sense. How would they even get it down here? No animal would willingly come down here unless it's a beast-wait, could it be? But what would one of those be doin' all the way up here? They usually appear at much deeper levels than this. Then again, when have the beasties ever followed directions? Better get a move on then.'
He hastily folded up the cloth and stuffed it into his rucksack, then blew out the lamp and hooked it onto his belt before climbing out of the pit. It was then that he heard the bellow again, only this time it sounded closer than the last time it made its encore.
Bell was many things. "Someone who took a shine to fights" could be one of them. "Someone who picked a fight with monsters that are out of your league" was not. Neither his sling nor his falchion was enough to deal with this thing before it could kill him. It was possible that he could make the thing die of laughter at his hunting knife, but that would only last for a moment before it decided to rip him limb from limb, and that would be the end of both Bell Mac Cranell and the Mac Cranell line.
So he did the most sensible thing: he bolted.
The tunnels that led back to Undertown couldn't be missed. Not only did they have dwarfen mine signs carved into their entrances that labelled them, but the supports that reinforced them combined with their large size clearly marked them as man-made in sharp contrast to the natural tunnels which had no such reinforcement and were generally much narrower. All he had to do was follow them back to the gates of Undertown, and the gate's defenders would take care of any beast-
And that was when a massive shape emerged from a side tunnel crashed into the side of the tunnel a short distance in front of him. The thing turned and looked at him with tiny bloodshot eyes, and Bell was treated to his first sighting of a minotaur.
The creature stood at 8 feet tall, and looked pretty much as if it was the result of a desperate and very inebriated man spending a night with a cow, and then regretting it 9 months later. Its legs were as thick as tree trunks, and its arms weren't that much thinner. Its hands were empty, but they looked like they could crush Bell's head regardless.
But most of all, its…privates were immense. Gargantuan even. It was as thick as a man's arm, and the pair of spheres drooping behind it were each as big as a grapefruit.
'Ye gods, how big are its cows for it to need that?' Bell thought with a horrified curiosity.
The minotaur's bellow of fury swept away the inanity that was his thoughts and left behind nothing but fear. That fear though, wonderfully crystallized his thoughts. He glanced to his right, nodded to himself, and he carried out his plan.
He thumbed his nose at it and stuck out his tongue.
Bell wasn't sure if the minotaur had understood the insult or if it had merely read his intent, but the minotaur made a noise like a blast from a giant horn and charged full speed at him. He grinned at it, and then dived to his right into the passageway he'd spied earlier while the minotaur presumably charged past him.
It must've worked, for he was still alive to think about whether it had worked or not. He didn't stop to check though. His legs were telling him to run as fast as he can, and he was only too happy to comply.
He sped down passageway after passageway, taking the route that got him closer and closer to Undertown's gate. Unfortunately, he could hear the bellowing of the minotaur behind, and the scrabbling of fingers and hooves on dirt and rock told him that it wasn't far behind. He abandoned the larger man-made tunnels and took the smallest passageways to hinder the minotaur's progress, and willed his legs to move faster.
During all this, he recalled his childhood when some of the other children had mocked him for his height and build. Or rather, his lack of either. Well, let's see the bigger kids try to take some of these passageways now. They'd have gotten stuck in them for sure and have gotten themselves ripped apart by an angry bull-man. That'd teach them to call him a wee mad bunny.
His reminiscing was rudely interrupted as he tried to squeeze through a thin crack in the wall when he suddenly found a sword point at his throat.
"Friendly! I'm friendly!" Bell did not shout in a high-pitched squeak. He didn't. Really!
The sword pulled back, and in its place a bearded face became visible in the crack.
"Well, if you're a monster, you're the scrawniest one I've ever seen," the bearded man said in an amused tone. "Do you need help?"
"Aye, please," Bell replied as he extended an arm out the crack.
"For future reference," the bearded man said as Bell felt a small but powerful hand take hold of his own. "During a monster attack, don't just go skulking around. Make some human-like sounds. Speak a little. Young Aiz here was just about to skewer you before we heard you scream."
"I dinnae scream," Bell muttered in protest.
"Whatever you say," replied the bearded man. "Help me pull him out, Aiz. He's stuck in there pretty badly."
After some pulling and groaning, Bell managed to extricate himself from his claustrophobic situation. As he stood there panting from the effort, he had a chance to examine his rescuers.
As it turned out, the bearded man who'd helped him out wasn't quite a man. The top of his head didn't even reach Bell's shoulders, and Bell was only 5' 5". The bearded man wore a helmet that would've looked quite normal for a warrior had it not been for the pair of horns extending from either side of it. Those facts plus the chainmail coat, the poleaxe with the oversized axe blade on his back, and the beard extending almost to his knees marked him as a dwarf as plainly as if he had a sign that read "Here Be Dwarf!" glued to his back.
As for the other one, the only detail Bell was able to make out was that the man was about the same height as him. The reason for that being that the man was covered from head to toe in a full suit of plate armor. It wasn't just plain metal too. Bell's eyes ran over the intricate Yggdian runes etched into the plates. While he couldn't read them, he could tell that it was armor that had been infused with spells in it. Magic armor took a great deal of time and effort to make, thus they were sold for such high prices that only the richest of the rich could've afforded them. Bell could've slaved away for his entire life, and still never would've been able to afford to buy one. For a moment, he felt a sharp pang of jealousy at the armored man before he stomped it down.
Then Bell noticed that the armored man was wearing two crests: one on his breastplate and a different one on his shield. He didn't recognize the one on his breastplate, but the crest on his shield depicted a grinning jester. His hands were open and empty, but the way he grinned made you wonder if he had something hidden up his puffy sleeves. It made the crest pretty memorable though; something no one would forget easily and that would be instantly recognizable as the crest of the familia of Loki: the Yggdian god of mischief, liberty, and outcasts.
Bell was wondering just why would such a rich man decided to join such a disreputable familia, when the dwarf asked: "How close was the minotaur?"
Snapped out of his reverie, Bell answered: "I think I managed to lose the beastie in the tunnels. Didn't ken how close it was though. I didn't dare look back to check."
The dwarf nodded, and then turned around and shouted: "The minotaur is getting too close! Take all the ore you can! Abandon the rest! We are going to be leaving soon!"
It was then that Bell finally noticed what was in the rest of the cavern. Behind the armored lad, there was a large work party loading rocks onto carts as fast as they can. Some of the party was composed of humans wearing the leather-lined iron helmets worn by miners, but most of their number were composed of similarly-clad dwarves armed with battleaxes of all sizes and shapes. The short, stocky, and magnificently bearded race took to the Underground like moles to dirt, and their instinct for finding minerals made them perfect miners.
Spread out around them and looking at the passageways for any threats were more armored warriors like the lad in front of him. They were armed with a medley of swords, polearms, axes, and crossbows of various make and model (though one of them was armed with a recurve bow; it was a mite unusual in this day and age where everyone used crossbows); and their armor were just as mixed, ranging from padded brigandines to full plate armor with chainmail underneath. The only thing the guards had in common was that they all wore Loki's emblem somewhere on their armor where they would be highly visible, as if proudly proclaiming to all the world who their leader was.
'Mercenaries and pride is certainly a strange combination,' Bell thought.
Then suddenly, a loud THUD came from the crack in the wall behind him, making him jump back and spin around in shock. Rock fragments and dust rained from the wall, and a loud bellow could be heard from the other side of the crack.
"Ignore that last order! Leave now!" the dwarf roared at the miners, who scrambled to push the carts away and save their hard-won ore. "Boy, get behind us! Men, get into formation now! Archers, prepare to fire!"
Whatever embarrassment Bell felt at being called "boy" was completely overridden by his desire to live. He dashed behind the front rank mercenaries as they closed into a solid line, braced their pikes against the ground, and held it up at an angle. The line behind them held out their pikes horizontally, together forming a solid wall of long pointy things that no sane being would want to charge. Bell saw the dwarf and the armored man take their place in the front-most rank, the former levelling a long halberd and the latter doing the same with a pike.
Lastly–in the third line where Bell was now–men readied their already-spanned and loaded crossbows, aiming them at the cracked wall still shuddering from the impact of the enraged minotaur.
"Hey, you!" a high-pitched voice shouted, shaking Bell from his reverie. "What happened to your crossbow?"
Bell looked at the man, or rather lad considering his high-pitched voice. It was the one lad with the recurve bow. His face was the color of freshly plowed earth, his dark brown eyes were framed by bushy black eyebrows, and black hair could be seen poking out of his kettle hat. In general, the lad had an exotic look about him, but then again most everyone in Aurea looked exotic to Bell, who was more accustomed to fair skin and equally as fair hair in his homeland.
"Don't need one. Not when I have this," Bell said cheerfully, holding up his sling and a handful of lead pellets as his reply.
The archer lad stared at him in shock, with his mouth hanging slightly open. "Are you mad? Just what are you going to do with just a sling? Stone it to death?"
Bell was about to list just exactly what he could do with his sling when the minotaur chose that moment to make one last charge.
To the men watching the cracked wall, it seemed to explode outwards in a cloud of dust and rock shards. The minotaur was at the center of the cloud, continuing to charge forward out of sheer unstoppable momentum.
"Stand fast, men!" the dwarf roared in a voice that cut through the cacophony of the collapsing wall. That piercing voice also knocked Bell out of his shock. He loaded his sling and spun it up into a circular blur.
The minotaur's charge took it right into the pike wall, right into a virtual forest of jabbing spearheads wielded by men roaring out in defiance and generally making as much noise as they could. It seemed to get through to the minotaur's thick skull, for the beastie stopped just shy of running head-on into the pike wall. The minotaur stumbled around and bellowed ferociously at the formation instead of attacking, but Bell knew that wouldn't last for long.
"Let fly!" Bell heard the archer lad cry.
The THWACKs of multiple crossbows echoed through the chamber as the bowmen fired as one. The minotaur stumbled back as crossbow bolts suddenly sprouted from its chest and gut. The beast bellowed in anger and pain and prepared to charge, only for an arrow from the archer lad's bow to fly into its right eye.
This time the beast's roar held more pain than anger as its giant hand clutched the shaft. Bell nodded in appreciation at the archer lad's accuracy. The eyes of minotaurs were tiny targets indeed, and to hit it in this low light was nothing short of miraculous. Seeing the lad's phenomenal skill fired Bell up, and he became determined to show the archer lad up.
He saw his chance as the minotaur paused in its pain-filled struggle to tug the arrow out. As it ripped the arrow out along with its right eye, a lead bullet smashed into its other eye. The closed eyelid was of little protection against the projectile, and the minotaur howled in renewed agony as it was robbed of the little sight it had.
"Now! Charge and down it!" the dwarf roared above the din.
The two lines of pikemen charged forward, driving their pikes into the minotaur's chest with the goal of knocking it down where it could be finished off. Unfortunately, the minotaur proved its strength even in its pain-filled haze. A flailing arm found one of the pike shafts and its accompanying hand grabbed hold of it. The beast ripped out the pike, lifted up the screaming mercenary still holding onto it, and proceeded to swing the unfortunate man around, knocking the others down as if it were a giant hammer.
Bell realized they were in trouble. The minotaur could easily kill the pikemen now once it realized it could, and then he and the archers would have to flee or die. Bell saw the archer lad sending arrow after arrow at various point on the beastie with little apparent effect, and the crossbowmen were still spanning their weapons. Bell could hit anything in range with his sling, but even he realized that it would do little good against the minotaur without a weak point to target. There had to be something he could hit! Something that would make even the minotaur pause! Something that a lad like him could-
He then recalled one of the first things he noticed about the minotaur, and he grinned.
"Lad!" Bell called out, making the archer lad look at him. "Its bullocks! Shoot its bullocks!" he shouted, pointing at his own groin for emphasis.
The lad stared at him for a moment, looked at the minotaur's massive organ, and then he grinned a fierce grin. "Yes! I understand!"
Bell nodded and then launched a lead bullet straight into one of the twin sacks hanging below the minotaur's crotch, with an arrow thudding into the other sack not a moment later.
…Silence filled the air. For a moment, the minotaur just stood there frozen, not moving a muscle.
And then the moment ended. The minotaur sank to its knees and wailed a wail of such pure agony that most of the men in the cavern covered their own groins in reflex.
One of the ones that didn't was the armored man, who levered himself up and drew out a longsword. "What are you all doing?! Now's our chance!" the man shouted in a voice that was surprisingly high-pitched under the metallic echo.
The dwarf leapt up as well. He raised up his poleaxe and shouted: "Get up! Kill it! Now!"
Spurred by their words, the rest of the mercenaries got to their feet and charged the stricken minotaur. A group of them ran their pikes into the minotaur's chest, knocking it to the ground with a bellow of surprise. Then the rest leapt onto the beastie in a giant pile, pinning its arms and legs to the ground to keep it from moving, and began to stab and hack at it with whatever weapon they had on hand. Bell saw the dwarf plant his poleaxe into the minotaur's gut, while the armored man leapt onto the beastie's head and drove his sword downwards. There was a spray of crimson fluid, and the beastie's bellows turned into a gurgling honking. It sounded like someone trying to play a horn that kept filling up with water. The beastie kept making the sound for some time, but the sounds quickly became weaker and weaker.
Then it stopped.
All that could be heard in the cavern was the sound of heavy breathing as men caught up with their breaths and the clinking sounds of the crossbowmen finally finishing loading their weapons.
Then someone–Bell couldn't tell who–raised a wordless cheer, and this was taken up by everyone in the cavern; their elation at killing such a mighty beastie finally releasing itself. The armored man stood up and surveyed the scene, sword in hand all bloody and dripping. Someone then noticed and shouted: "Three cheers for Wallenstein! May our golden girl never lose her shine!" Bell was thrown off by the "girl" part until she took off her helmet.
Bell's jaw parted slightly as he took in the sight. Wallenstein's hair was the color of ripe wheat, and the bun that it was tied up in made it resemble a shaft of wheat bound up in twine. Her eyes were a rich golden color Bell had never seen on anyone before, let alone on such a vision of loveliness. Her face was flushed and sweaty from the exertions of combat, but it didn't detract from the beauty of her fair and unblemished skin. In fact, Bell thought it made her look like a war goddess from his homeland's legends.
It was then that he felt someone shaking his shoulder. "Hey. Are you listening? Hello?"
Bell turned to the archer lad with a dreamy expression on his face. "Aye?"
The archer lad's was grinning like a fool, but it was that of a knowing fool who'd seen your innermost secrets and found it wonderfully entertaining. "So, you've fallen for Aiz Wallenstein too, eh?"
"Is that what the lassie's name is? What an exotic name she has," Bell replied, still with a dreamy expression and an even dreamier tone.
The archer lad's grin grew even wider. "Oh, you've got it bad. I've seen it before on lots of guys' faces. And what did you call her? A 'lassy'?"
"Oh, aye. That's what we'd called a pretty girl like her back home."
"Is that so?"
Bell's ears then caught up with his love-struck brain and gave it a tap on the noggin to get its attention. "Ach, sorry. What were you trying to say before?" he asked with a slightly dazed tone.
"Well, I was going to compliment you on your shots. I didn't know anyone could ever be that good with a sling."
Bell grinned. "Ach, that was nuthin'. I should be complimentin' you on your archery. You fired fast and true, that you did."
The archer lad grinned back in response. "Thanks! You may talk funny, but you're okay in my book." He held out a hand. "The name's Tiona Hariati. Pleased to meet you."
Bell clasped the outstretched hand. "Bell Mac Cranell. The pleasure's all mine."
Bell then heard footsteps come from the tunnel near him and turned towards it, sling in hand and ready to fire. Tiona did the same with her bow, and Bell noticed the crossbowmen levelling their weapon as well.
"Hold! Friendly!" came a contralto voice from the tunnel. Everyone lowered their weapons, Bell included when he saw everyone else do so.
Stepping out of the tunnel was a woman–the bulging chestplate would never allow her to be mistaken for a man–but she was like no woman Bell had ever seen before. She stood at least 9 feet tall, towering over Bell much like the minotaur had. She was covered in head to toe in plate armor, with only the lifted visor allowing Bell to see her pale face. She held a great mace easily in one hand, with a flanged head even bigger than Bell's own head. She had a massive war bow stowed away with a quiver full of arrows that were the size of short spears. There was a group of more armed and armored mercenaries around her, but they looked almost like dolls next to her.
Bell was wondering just how friendly this woman actually was when Tiona waved at them and called out: "Hey, Lady Angrboda! We got one of them!"
"Good," replied Lady Angrboda.
It seemed to Bell that this was a woman who endeavored to use as few words as possible, preferring to save them for rainy days. She then looked down at Bell, staring into his eyes as if trying to examine his soul. Bell stood up straighter and looked back into those storm-grey eyes, refusing to back down partly because he was scared to find out what happened if he did.
"Oh, this is Bell Mak Kranol," Tiona said blithely. Bell heard the poor mangled syllables, but said nothing. "He helped us out with the minotaur. Would've turned out badly without him, as it turned out."
Lady Angrboda continued to stare at Bell for a while. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Good job," she said.
Bell nodded back and bowed. "Thank you, Lady Ang-ger-boda," he said slowly, trying to correctly pronounce the strange Yggdian syllables. "Your kind words give me great joy in hearing them," he said formally, remembering one of the lessons his lady had taught him: "It costs nothing to be polite, but you could lose a lot if you're rude." She had emphasized the lesson by letting him act the way usually did around Lady Demeter, who looked like a blond version of every child's worst schoolroom nightmare and acted like it too, especially when spoken to by a cocky young lad from Erin's Isle who didn't know any better. Needless to say, the lesson had stuck.
Lady Angrboda nodded again, this time more noticeably. "You're welcome," she said solemnly.
It was then that the other mercenaries noticed Lady Angrboda's presence and they made their way over to her.
"Lady Angrboda, we have dispatched one minotaur with only minor injuries and one severely injured," the dwarf reported.
"How bad are his injuries, Gareth?" Lady Angrboda asked with concern.
The dwarf–apparently named Gareth–pointed a thumb at the soldier who'd been swung around by the minotaur, who was now being supported by a comrade and was chatting amiably with him. "He has a couple of bruised ribs and a broken leg, but other than that his injuries are minor. He'll not be fighting any more battles for a while, but he'll live."
Lady Angrboda nodded and smiled slightly. "That's good. Now we must leave. Too dangerous here now."
Gareth looked towards the injured mercenary again. "We can't move quickly. Not without making his leg even worse."
Lady Angrboda nodded once more and then strode over to the injured mercenary. Before he could even protest, Lady Angrboda had scooped him up and had him cradled in the crook of her arm. "Now we can move. Let's go," Lady Angrboda ordered, not noticing the mercenary blushing furiously.
Bell tried hard not to laugh, but couldn't stop a grin from making its appearance. He was sure that the other men were also trying hard to keep from bursting into laughter. The injured man looked like a wee babbie in Lady Angrboda's arm. Bell was sure no one here would ever let him forget it.
Then suddenly, there came bellows from the broken wall. It was hard to tell how many because of the echoing nature of the tunnels, but nobody present needed to be a genius to tell that there were an awful lot of them.
"Go!" Lady Angrboda shouted as she took long strides down the tunnel back to Undertown. No one needed any prompting to follow her, even Bell. Though they were mercenaries, Bell decided they were far better company than the minotaurs. And who knows? Once they were back in Undertown, perhaps he could get to know the golden-haired Aiz a little better? Even as he was running in terror from horrible monsters, he felt like his heart was going to sprout wings and soar.