A Heroic Interlude
...
The darkness of the long-sealed tomb stank of grave-mould and rot. The small circle of light at the centre was a valiant point of righteousness in the night, holding forth against the shambling undead and leering goblinoids.
"I told you it was a mistake to go into this place in the middle of the night!" Montmorency de Montmorency shouted through clenched teeth. "I told you! Didn't I tell you? I told you! We should have waited until morning!"
There was a sound like an iron foundry falling down a flight of stairs, and a small mob of brazen golems rampaged through the dead. Dry bones and dusty flesh turned out to be somewhat compromised in structural integrity when solid brass animated statues charged into and over the top of them.
"Aha! Taste the beauty of the rose, vile monsters!" Guiche de Gramont called out, sweeping his wand around to lead his shining horde in their assault.
And it was hardly worth noting that the constructs were getting more kills from standing on goblins and zombies than they were with their rather unskilled swordplay.
Fire flared in the dark, washing against the wall and leaving only burnt shadows. "Mont!" called out Kirche von Zerbst, as she alternated between lobbing lesser fireballs down the corridor and hacking at the closer foes with her long-handled curved blade, "ice the floor of the right corridor!" A goblin fell screaming as she cut its arm off. "More zombies down that way!"
"Moving the golems to get the gate!" Guiche interrupted, his pack of metal warriors swarming to obscure the entry and crank the lever which inched the ponderous door closed.
"Thanks! Tabby, wight forwards! Take it out!"
Eyes dead, the blue-haired girl who called herself 'Tabitha' picked up one of the long poles the four schoolchildren had been carrying with them, and tapped it with her wand, muttering a short incantation. It shot out of her grasp like it had been fired from a cannon, piercing three goblins before lodging itself in a lunching figure wearing a richly decorated helmet covered in long-rotted plumes.
"Target eez down," the blue-haired girl said flatly in a strong Gallian accent, before scything down a group of fleeing goblins with a burst of ice.
And then there was nothing alive or undead left in the corridor, save for the children and their brass golems. Kirche put down her blade and dug in a pouch at her belt to recover a handkerchief to wipe her blood, soot and sweat-streaked face. "Right," she said, "looks like there's the gold-leaf door the old man up ahead told us." She stretched out her shoulders, her leather armour creaking, and returned the dirty handkerchief back to her belt. "Anyone get hurt in that?"
Guiche winced, tapping his breastplate. "Feeling a bit bruised under this; one of the goblins shot me. Scratched the armour. The padding took most of the force, but I'm going to be aching there tomorrow morning. No," he said, raising his hand, "save your magic, Monmon. We've still got the liche in there, and he'll be more of a threat."
"Fine," the blonde said. "Though... shouldn't we return to the surface, and wait until the morning? The dead'll be weaker when the sun's up, and we can rest up."
The boy shook his head. "No," he said, "we have to rescue the count before the liche can do whatever evil deed's he's planning. If he's dead by the time we get there because we stopped for a rest, it'll be our fault."
"I'm with Guiche," Kirche agreed. "The reward for getting him back alive is well over twice than he's worth dead."
Montmorency sighed; a noise in which 'money-grubbing Germanian' could be heard. "Well, what about you, Tabitha?" she asked. "Shouldn't we go back up and wait for morning?"
The blue-haired girl looked up from the book she had recovered. "Does not matter," she said, softly. "Slyphid can find 'er own food."
"So it's agreed!" Guiche declared. "Let's go end this evil once and for all!"
But there was no evil liche waiting on the other side of the door, despite the dramatic manner in which they had burst through, flanked by an honour guard of brass golems. There was just this hollow, echoing space, with another identical-but-sealed door on the other side. And in the middle of the room there were three pillars, which looked to be made of white marble. On the left-hand one, there were four rings of gold over the pillar. The one at the bottom was the widest by far, and they got smaller as they rose. The sculpting were beautiful, a classic remnant of a bygone era, and they were studded with windstones which crackled with lightning.
The dry rasp of the undead warlord's voice echoed through the antechamber. "Ah, you poor foolsss," he hissed, in a voice which suggested he would have been spraying spittle all over the place had his saliva not evaporated years ago. "You may have defeated my previousss championsss! But they were but lesssssser beingsss! Mere violensss sssufisssed! But in here, I am warded by my magic and my might! I am sssupreme in here!"
"We'll get you!" Guiche called out. "Just you wait!"
"You never will," the liche cackled. "I am sssafe, and time isss on my ssside! You are like dry leavesss on the galesss of my powersss! No man has ever broken through my final defencesss! Behold them!"
"This is boring," Kirche muttered.
"Behold! I have put many mighty and powerful wardsss on thisss lassst defensss! The only way through isss to sssolve the puzzle, but a sssingle mistake will fill the entire room with the power of lightning!"
The corpse filled the room with laughter, echoing in this hollow space. And the four children stared at the four rings upon their pillar.
"What," Guiche said flatly. "I'm sorry, but... wasn't that a problem in mathematics? You move the rings and... and stuff happens. Is this meant to be some kind of cunning trap?"
"Well," Montmorency said, transferring her wand to her other hand and stretching out her fingers. "This won't take long. Just as well, really. That hissing bag of bones is annoying."
"You said it," Kirche agreed. "Tabby, go solve that thing and we can go set this idiot on fire and save the handsome count."
...
"... and once again, brave Guiche de Gramont, I thank you for your aid in rescuing my nephew," said the avuncular man, to applause from the watchers. "And your beautiful companions, of course, deserve our hearty thanks. I would ask you to stay longer, but of course, we know that skills such as yours are needed all across Tristain. You captured the loathsome Fouquet... she stole a very nice jewelled goblet off me three years ago, you slew the orc warlord An Mak, and now, having crushed the liche king and saved the Count de Maas, I will make sure the whole country knows of your deeds."
Guiche boosted himself up into his saddle, and bowed. "You are too kind, my lord," he said. "In times of uncertainty such as this, with the political turmoil and such dreadful things, the least we can do is put our school holidays towards helping out our country."
"Nonsense, dear boy. I served with your father, donchaknow, and I am proud to see that no matter what anyone might say about your family having fallen on hard times, the same heroism of the de Gramonts burns brightly! Why, it can even bring to life the flames of a Germanian and a Gallian, to fight with you!" He leaned towards, pressing a small coin purse into the blond's hand. "A little extra, on top of our pre-existing gratitude."
"I do like fire," Kirche said, nodding, before she clambered up onto her own mount. Her eyes swept over the crowd, lingering on the young count standing beside the weighty man. Her eyes sparkled; he flushed bright red and mouthed something at her.
Beside the Germanian, Monmon sighed. "We must be on our way, though, if we don't want to be caught in the bad weather which looks to be moving in."
"Yes, yes, of course," said a woman with a generous bosom and a slightly sour look in her eyes. "Thank you so much for rescuing my half-brother. Alive. I'm in your eternal debt. Really. Thank you."
Guiche bowed to her too. "We did what we had to do, fair lady," he said. "How could I let the brother of someone so beautiful as you perish? I would hate for one as fair as you to mourn." Her eyes softened, and she smiled.
Purely by accident, Monmon's horse stumbled into Guiche's, and he nearly fell off. And together, the party of students wheeled their horses around, and to applause went out to where they would meet with Tabitha, who was getting food for her dragon-familiar.
"That went pretty well," Guiche said smugly, leaning back on his horse with both hands behind his head. "We slew the liche king, rescued the count, got rewarded and deposited our hard-earned... uh, earnings with a banking house, and we sold some of those things from the tomb." His face darkened. "And I had to pay to have my breastplate beaten out," he added. "The least they could have done would have been to do that for free."
"That's why I wear leathers," Kirche said, smirking. "Lighter, and more comfortable." She rested one hand on her chest. "And of course, they don't make plates like that to fit me," she said, ignoring Montmorency's muttering. "Though," the girl said, "he really wasn't much of a 'king of all liches' for all his bragging. He was... like, a baron at most. And went up like a torch." She blew on her fingers. "Wonderful."
"Incidentally, Guiche," Montmorency added, "I saw the purse he gave you. You're going to share it with the rest of us. In case it slips your mind."
The boy dug his hand into his pocket, and began to count out coins. A dragon's cry sounded out, and the three of them took their horses' reins firmly. The beasts may have been somewhat used to being around a dragon by now, but they were still put on edge by it. Especially when, as now, it had been feeding; the creature's mouth was still bloody as it landed next to them. Tabitha did not look up from her book. "Cows," she said. "Paid for them."
"All right!" Kirche declared, stretching. "Guiche, we're going to..."
"Looking at the map," the boy said, "we can probably make Sant Henri before nightfall. The guidebook says the inn there is good, and has hot baths. It's also near the ruins of the Beschendaal Estate, and they say there are still flesh-eating monks living down in the basement."
"Wonderful!" Montmorency and Kirche said in tandem. They paused, and then the blonde continued. "All right. I picked the notifications from the town speaker back there, so we'll be able to see what else is going on around here."
"Pass me some," the red-head said. "I don't trust you on your maths for the value-time investment ratios."
"My sums are perfectly good!"
"I really wish we didn't do this," Guiche sighed. "It feels sordid, working out what gives the best money return for our time. Wouldn't you say so, Tabitha?"
He looked up at the girl on the dragon. The dragon looked at him. After a short wait, the girl did too. "No," she said. "You... 'ow do you say... want to be ze 'ero. Ze main person. But you are not."
"Fine!" he muttered, reining in his horse a little while pouting. And so the party rode on in silence, broken only by the low mutterings of Kirche and Montmorency as they compared and calculated travel times, risk factors, and expected returns of investments. It was almost lunch time when the blonde girl's raised voice disturbed the peace.
"You really have no standards," Monmon said caustically. "I can't believe you did... that! With the count! Stop trying to get me to take account of the likelihood of rescuing pretty boys!"
"But they're so grateful and expressive in their gratitude when you rescue them!" Kirche objected.
"That doesn't make it okay!"
"I know," Kirche said, shaking her head sadly. She slapped herself gently across the face. "Bad Kirche! Very bad Kirche! Such terrible standards!"
"There's no need to mock me because you're a Germanian trollop," the blonde informed her. "At heart, you're kind of a bitch, you know that?"
"But I do have no standards!" Kirche said, putting one hand to her mouth. "He may have looked handsome, but he was a virgin. And virgins are no good until they've learned where to put their thing." She shook her head sadly. "But I let my weak, womanly lusts overcome me! Such shame! Such ignominy!"
"There's no talking to you when you're like this," Monmon retorted, wheeling her horse away.
"It's really a shame too," Kirche added wickedly, "because he had really nice estates." She paused, deliberately. "And a large endowment."
Montmorency made a disgusted harrumph.
"True," Tabitha said, looking up from her book. "Ze County de Maas eez wealthy. Collects trade tariffs along ze... the river. 'Is parents are dead. Marriage prospects are good."
There was an awkward silence.
"Look, Tabby," Kirche said kindly, "just keep reading, okay? But yes, he was no good with it. And it's no good having a large endowment if you don't know how to use it."
"A bad investment eez bad for status and money," the blue-haired girl agreed, returning to her book.
Kirche sighed. "You lot are no fun, you know that?" she said, sadly. "You're too frigid for it to be funny, Monmon, Guiche has his fingers in his ears because it makes him vaguely uncomfortable when I talk like this, and Tabby doesn't get what I'm saying."
"I don't have my fingers in my ears," Guiche objected, from his position somewhat behind the other three. "I'm just... uh, reading the map."
"Sure you are," Kirche said cheerfully.
The blue-haired girl looked up from her book, frowning. After a few moments of thought, her eyes widened. "Oh," she said, "not 'is lands? Inheritance from muzzer? That eez 'is endowment?"
The red-head smirked. "Well, I saw his sister there and the portraits in the hallway, and I'd have to say, I think she's the one with the two large inheritances from their mother, not him!" she observed.
"Oh. Passing wealth down only through line female. Zat... that eez unusual. Eez zat why she was not 'appy we rescued 'im alive, no?"
"Go back to your book, Tabby." Kirche sighed. "No fun at all. None of you explode at me like L... like the fun way. I'm like a fire deprived of my fuel. A blacksmith without iron. A troll without her favourite amusing little billygoat."
"Or a slattern without her dignity," Montmorency drawled.
"Just not the same," the taller girl said, shaking her head. "It's just not the same." She shook her head. "Lunch?" she asked.
It was generally agreed to be a good move. And over the meal, they discussed their options. And what to do next.
"Veto," Tabitha said.
Guiche raised his eyebrows in surprise. "But... a remote castle, terrorised by ghosts, offering to pay well if people will rid them of the menace? Sure that combines heroism and being well rewarded in a..."
"Veto."
"But..."
"Oh, lay off her, Guiche," Kirche said lazily, sprawling back on the grass. "She used her veto; we all get one." She picked up another pamphlet. "Oh, here's one," she said. "A family from... does it say Tarbes or Tardes here? I can't read it; whoever wrote it was an illiterate. Oh well. Yeah, their... dum de dum, oldest daughter missing, willing to pay a reward... yeah, that one's worthless. Less than an ecu, and it's up north. Not worth it."
"Though if we head that way, we should always keep an eye out," the blond boy said over his shoulder, as he went to the horses to recover a treat for his mole-familiar.
"... well, if we must," Kirche said, reluctantly. "We'd have to be very, very near or for it to be very easy if it's worth it for probably-days of effort doesn't even get us an ecu."
"I'm sure it's all they can afford," Guiche said, raising his voice over the contended sound of his familiar sucking on a fine South-Eastern black loam. "But yes, you're right. If we knew it was more than a missing girl, like if it was some necromancer or demon who had spirited her away, then it would be different."
"It certainly would," the redhead agreed. "Hey, while you're over by the bags, get me some horse jerky, would you?"
Monmon looked up from where she was tallying up their takings. "That's hardly very lady-like," she said primly. "Can you at least keep your mouth closed this time when chewing? Guiche, Kirche is deliberately eating with her mouth open to annoy me!"
Tabitha wiped her hands on the ground. "Still go to Sant 'enri," she said. "Catch up later. There eez somezing I need to do."
"See you," Kirche said with a wide-open mouth, waving lazily, as Tabitha sprung up onto the back of her dragon, and it soared off in a gust of wind. She tossed a piece of meat to her salamander familiar, which caught it in its mouth. "Well, what else?" she asked. "Oh, it says here that apparently the Madame de Montespan will pay a thousand ecu if anyone can provide information towards the discovery of something called the Fireheart. With..." she let out an impressed whistle, "... my, ten thousand ecu if it is brought to her in Amstelredamme."
"Do we know what it is?" Guiche asked. "Fireheart... the name sounds familiar. Was it that thing which was once stolen by the Anti-Popess Luxuria before Huenon the Brave cast her from the highest tower of the Janiculum?"
"... that's... uh, a little unclear," Kirche admitted. "And... uh, no. No, she had replaced her heart with the Heart of Passion. I know that for a fact; I've always been very fond of the tales of her and her exploits. What a dreadful woman she was, turning the flames of passion towards Evil like she did!"
"Helpful," Monmon drawled. "Really." She stretched out on the grass. "I think it's not going to rain after all," she said, looking up at the sky. "Look. The clouds are moving away, to the north. And..." she shivered. "Did anyone else just get a cold feeling? No? No?" She sighed. "Just me, then."
"I need to go find a bush," Guiche noted, pulling himself to his feet. "And some soft leaves."
"Thank you very much for telling us that! Too much information!" Montmorency snapped.
...
Pan out, up away from the grassy field filled with grass, flowers, bunnies, and other such signs of Goodness, and we end up in the sky. And then by the mechanism of a perspective shift, it is revealed that aha! All the world was trapped inside a crystal ball.
The blue minion assigned to watching the ball frowned. With all its intellect and concentration, tongue sticking out, it began to write in chalk on the black board in front of it.
YLLOW + RED + YELOW HRR HROS TAKLING ABUT STUFF. BLU HRO GO AWY ON DRGN.
NOW I WNT JRKY
Gnarl's Hero Observation Project had... perhaps a little bit to go before he should tell the overlady of its existence. There were still quite a few niggling little implementation flaws, like the use of minions as watchers, and the fact that he only had one crystal ball, and of course the fact that it was mostly luck if they stumbled on a group.
Still, Evil always found a way. And if it didn't... well, he hadn't told the overlady about this new plan, so from a certain point of view, it wasn't like Evil – or he – had failed or anything of that preposterous nature.
...
