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TDL BK I, CH 15: Burdens
🕑 Added 2023-02-23 23:05:19 +0000 UTCChapter Fifteen: Burdens
A series of sharp knocks at his bedroom door tore Dunstan from the dungeon space.
"What is it and why can't it wait?" he yelled in annoyance.
He was so close. Another half hour or two and he would have finalised his first dungeon. Understandably pissed off at this development, Dunstan watched Melqart barge into his room, his childhood friend having taken his words as an invitation to enter.
"And if I was busy or with someone?" he asked with a displeased frown.
"Then I tattle to your betrothed", Melqart fired back without a second thought.
This was the problem with old friends. No boundaries! Dunstan shot him a dirty look from across the room and said nothing. The youth in question paused as he walked to him, his eyes finally taking in the room.
The room was a vision of elegance, with a timeless charm that spoke of a bygone era in the sect's history. It had been years since the blue-haired youth stepped came to the house and he found himself even more shocked than the last time he visited. Dunstan had moved. Now the master of the house, his old friend had taken the master bedroom for his own though why on earth he'd do that Melqart didn't know. The place was less of a bedroom and more of a time capsule.
Ornate carvings adorned the wooden furniture, while tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of sect life. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow across the room. The centrepiece of the room was a large four-poster bed, draped in rich brocade curtains. A matching vanity sat nearby, adorned with silver brushes and combs and on the other side of the room stood a grandiose writing desk that had probably decided the fate of the sect a thousand times over. The only saving grace was a plush comfortable looking armchair that sat in one corner, next to a small fireplace that crackled with a gentle flame.
On the walls, several portraits of Dunstan's ancestors looked down, their stern expressions contrasting with the whimsical decor. Ancient Kaguris with proud faces and legendary achievements. An antique grandfather clock stood in one corner, ticking away the minutes with a steady rhythm as if counting the days until its new master too adorned the walls. An errant thought run through his mind at that moment and Melqart wondered for a second how Dunstan could possibly sleep with his ancestors judging him from every angle.
The room exuded an air of refinement and sophistication that made it difficult to relax. Every detail seemed carefully chosen to evoke a sense of opulence and grandeur. It was a room fit for a noble, with no expense spared in its creation. As you entered, you were transported back in time to a world of courtly manners and genteel living.
So what did Melqart do, he grabbed the chair at the writing desk and twirled it till he was next to the bed and then, sitting backwards on it so his hands rested on the top rail, he asked, "What are you working on Dunny?"
"None of your business!" Dunstan snapped, placing the skill book he had just synthesised face down on the desk to obscure the title. Yeah! It turned out he could do that too.
Even as the words left his mouth, Dunstan felt like slamming his head into his palm for uttering them. That was definitely the wrong answer to give and it practically guaranteed that Melqart will put his nose where it wasn’t wanted. He had allowed his frustration to make him regress back into his childish spat with the other lad. Already, he could see the cogs in Melqart's head turning. The big lug even had the scrunched look that implied he was thinking or in this case, probably trying to memorise and figure out everything his eyes could see.
"Look, it's nothing important. Just some things I'm looking into on account of the new portal" he explained, trying to wave away his previous gaffe.
"Uh-huh!" The blue-haired youth intoned, nodding with disbelief the whole time. "Speaking off, how did you manage that?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean...when last we spoke, you said you had an idea on how to revitalise the sect. Next thing I know, you're performing rituals in the centre of the Cloud Arena like a barga." Melqart broached slowly. "Clearly, I missed some steps in the middle."
"It’s nothing to worry about", Dunstan defended. "The Sixth Preceptor and I cleared it with the Elder Council.”
Melqart shot him a look that said that his answer did not suffice. He tried ignoring it but then the muscle head hit him with a, “Oh, I see!”
“See what?”
“OH, Melqart you’re the only one I can trust! Oh, Melqart! You’re so big and strong!” his rival said in a sing-song voice.
“I did not say that!” the young sect master spluttered in an affronted tone.
“’ Course you did", Melqart argued. "I remember you quite clearly. You came to my place on your knees begging for my help and now you're cutting me out of the loop.”
Dunstan groaned, falling back in his four-poster bed. “Look don’t start that with me okay”, he grumbled. “I’m tired, anaemic and sleep deprived. I don’t have it in me right now to deal with your shit! Obviously, there are some things I cannot tell you.”
“That so?” the other youth asked.
“YES!” he said, drawing out the word.
“Trust is a two-way street, Dunny!” Melqart reminded him.
Dunstan glared at him for a minute before deciding that at this point, it would actually be better to tell him something if only to get him to leave so he could go back to working on what was important.
"You've heard the official announcement?" he asked, referring to the cover story he and the Sixth Preceptor created. Melqart nodded. Good! That meant there wasn't much to cover.
“Obviously, the idea I had at your place involved the mystic realm. So after I left, I went home and worked on the artefact. I first surveyed the mystic realm, and then went back to talk with the old preceptor showing him just how much we stood to gain if we could leverage the mystic realm for the good of the sect. Together we came up with a plan and once we had a working idea of what we needed, we went to the Elder Council for approval. You know the rest."
“Wait!" the blue-haired youth exclaimed. "Didn't you just make the portal? How did you survey the mystic realm before?”
"Bah!" Dunstan spat with a dismissive wave before going with the same excuse he gave the council. “The portal is just anchored in the plaza for convenience. The mystic realm it leads to is actually bound to my life and soul.
"And there are no side effects from that?" Melqart asked. His eyebrow raised. "It is a broken artefact!”
Dunstan thought about it for a bit, pursing his lips. “I honestly don’t know. Probably not. Or, at least, I hope so.”
Worryingly, he wasn’t lying. He genuinely had no idea how this would affect him. Who knew if his new dungeon system would mesh well with his cultivation? This world was alive and aware enough to have a will of its own, a fact proved by the tribulations. How would it react to things from another world? Hell, the dungeons were separate places in themselves likely outside its purview. For example, Dunstan hadn’t had levels before, he knew that much and now his stat screen did. For all he knew, he had stunted his cultivation with his dungeon shenanigans.
Melqart watched everything play out on Dunstan’s face. Slowly, his thoughts wandered.
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An eight-year-old Melqart scowled as Elder Anthony dropped him off with his father. He then watched resentfully from the window as the two adults spoke.
"I understand you fought with Dunstan again today", his father said when he came in.
He said nothing. Experience had proved adults couldn’t turn what you said against you if you said nothing.
“You've got to stop fighting with Dunstan, Mel", his father said with an exasperated sigh.
“Dunstan’s a jerk!” Melqart yelled, unable to help himself.
“That so?” his father asked patiently.
“He thinks he’s so much better than everyone else."
The dam quickly broke and it all came rushing out. He regaled his father with tales from the training yard. Told him about how Dunstan was being his usual annoying, know-it-all self. Through it all, the man said nothing. He listened as his son complained about how Dunstan kept interrupting the lesson, how the Elder teaching them directed nearly every question at him. He whined about how Dunstan ran around correcting everyone’s work and exercises as if he was the teacher even if they didn’t want it, up until he tried to correct Melqart’s stance for the fourth time and got punched in the nose.
“The worst part is that the Elders always let him get away with it", he complained.
His father sighed, his kind face lined with something his son couldn't quite recognise. "Melqart, you need to stop fighting with Dunstan."
"He starts it!"
"He is just trying to help", his father tried to explain.
"No, he isn’t!" Melqart argued. "He’s just showing off so the Elders praise him more. He thinks we’re stupid!"
"Come now!" His father admonished gently. "Dunstan doesn’t think you’re stupid. Believe me, little one."
Melqart huffed in anger. He didn’t know why he expected anything different. Even his father was on Dunstan’s side. All the Elders were!
“Why do you people let him get away with everything?" he asked with a frustrated yell.
His father sighed again. “Dunstan is not as lucky as you think, Melqart. He’s special,"
"I’m special!” Melqart pointed out. Out of everyone at the training yard today, he was the strongest. His innate lightning physique made it so.
"Not special like you're special”, his father said tussling his hair.
“Dunstan is going to be Sect Leader one day."
"I could be Sect Leader", Melqart argued.
"No, little one", his father said drawing him closer. "I wouldn’t wish that on you. The amount of responsibility they put on that boy’s shoulders is…” he sighed again.
Melqart had noticed that he was doing that a lot lately and he didn't know why. The medicines he was taking did not seem to be helping. Running off, he brought his father some herbal tea.
“Thank you!” his father said with a wide smile. Right then, his eyes sparkled as an idea came to him. To Melqart, it was like watching fireworks go off.
“You’re such a good boy Melqart, taking care of me", he put forward. "The other Elders, they want Dunstan to take care of everyone. One day, the sect will have to look to him for answers and direction."
"The reason Dunstan is treated special is because they want him to get used to taking care of people even though we should all be doing it together", his father tried to explain even though it was clear that he losing the analogy a bit. "All those elders, they are giving him loads to carry thinking that when he grows up, they can make him carry everything on his shoulders."
Melqart stared at his father in suspicion. "Was he saying that Elder Anthony and the others wanted Dunstan to help teach so that they didn't have to work as much?
"You don't want to be special the way Dunstan is", his father told him. "If you were, people would leave all the work to you and you'd never be able to do anything for yourself. Work of a thousand hands, left to one person. Then, if you fail, they'll just stand back and blame you anyway."
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Melwart wasn't sure why the memory came to him at that moment but it caused him to look at his childhood rival very differently. Mentally, his appraisal of the other youth climbed. He had always found Dunstan annoying but even he had to concede that his sect master --God that was so hard to say -- was admirable.
The idiot had survived an assassination attempt, limped home to discover that the sect was in trouble and gone straight to work trying to save it.
"So what did you come here for?" the dark-skinned youth was asking. "Did something go wrong with Reinhold? Do you need some help?"
He grimaced. Even with everything on his plate, Dunstan was asking to help him.
“No!” Melqart decided.
“I think I can handle this much on my own”, he told Dunstan, standing up to leave. “There was just so much going on that I wanted to touch base. I’ll fill you in when I get something we can act on.”
“Alright…” The young sect master replied, his eyes already sliding over to the book he attempted to hide. “I guess that works.
“Hey Melqart stay safe!” he called out. “Please don't try anything too dangerous. If it even looks the slightest bit dodgy, you need to pull out!”
Melqart’s face scrunched up as he cringed. “Why did you have to say it like that?”
“I’m serious! This could get dicey”, Dunstan warned. “Don’t do anything that might get you killed.”
“Relax, I’ve got this!” Melqart said smirking confidently as he left.
Inwardly, he resolved himself. ‘It’s time I started to carry some of this weight too.'
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Author's Note:
I am unhappy with the chapter title. If you can think of something more fitting, let me know in the comments.
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