David Lingard: Author
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Chapter 51 – Dungeons & Secrets
🕑 Added 2024-03-28 17:00:11 +0000 UTCHenderson sat for a long while in front of the bars where the Nest Guardian – his mentor – had previously resided. At first, he thought that whatever had taken the dragon away was simply temporary, or perhaps even an illusion, but eventually he realised the truth: that his mentor was gone, and most likely forever.
As Henderson sat, he crossed his legs and closed his eyes to allow his consciousness to fill the entirety of the dungeon that held the creatures of Chaos deep beneath the Arena.
But something was wrong.
As he sat there contemplating the vastness of the dungeons and the changing situation he found himself within, he realised that no matter how hard he concentrated, or how far he let his mind wander, he could never reach the edges of the dungeon.
The underground holding pens seemed to stretch on forever without an end or pause. There were cages upon cages constituting the cells of the creatures that the Contestants would fight in the Arena. There were thousands, millions perhaps of creatures of all types, levels, and strengths. But still the dungeon went on and on until beyond Henderson’s internal gaze, there was simply darkness. Something told him that even if he could see twice as far into the abyss, he still wouldn't have discovered the end.
Henderson sat for a long time. It was useful to him because he knew any practice he could get in such a place would be invaluable to his future growth. The Nest Guardian had explained to him that his new Class - Beastmaster - would grow through the actions of the monsters of Chaos all around him – which in truth he didn't fully understand, but the dragon had told him to wait for the understanding to come to him. It wasn't an answer he enjoyed, but after a week alone with the extremely high-level dragon, he learned when to keep his mouth shut. Because opening it at the wrong time hurt.
Within Henderson’s mind's eye, he swept through the dungeons and spent time examining each of the beasts he encountered. To his knowledge, nothing recognised his presence as he wandered past them and searched their stony figures for openings that he could exploit, should he choose to try to take control as he had done with the Nest Guardian. The last time it had only been a momentary invasion into the dragon, but he knew that with creatures nearer his own level, he should be able to exert far more control that his Class had given to him.
But Henderson didn’t take control of any of these creatures. He knew that in truth there was no point in that. They were locked inside their cages and unable to perform any action that he could not himself. He would peruse them to learn their weaknesses, but he would not take control. Not until there was truly a reason to do so.
After he had spent a very long time doing what he could to learn and remember the shapes and forms of the creatures in the dungeons, from kobolds to animated skeletons and from spiders to rock golems, he examined, examined, and examined. The few consistent facts that he learnt in the end though, were that no two monsters shared the exact same weakness in their armour, and the higher level the monster, the more difficult it would be to infiltrate them.
It was good practice for Henderson to simply wander around like he was some Spectral Harbinger; It made him feel powerful as nothing knew that he was there, but also just knowing that if he so wanted to – and had the time and wanted to expend the effort – then he could be a part of their being, their consciousness, and he could use them to grow. It was far more than anyone else could do within the Arena, that much he was sure of.
Eventually, Henderson grew bored of his impromptu training session. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sat there on the cold, hard ground, but he did know that when he returned his consciousness to his physical body and opened his eyes, his legs and ass were numb, and he could no longer hear the City alarm bells ringing throughout the Arena and beyond.
So he stood up. He stood up, took one last look at the cage where the Nest Guardian had once resided – partly to make sure what he'd seen before – that the dragon was gone – was correct, and partly just to give the place a fond farewell. And then he turned to leave.
The Arena was quiet. Much quieter than Henderson had ever seen it before. There were no voices or footsteps in the corridors as he walked, though all the torches were still lit. It was clear to him that everyone had been sent away to deal with whatever was threatening the City. Even the Arena Hands were absent, and it made Henderson wonder if they'd also been sent out to fight, or if they had holed up somewhere to keep themselves safe as non-combatants.
Henderson thought to first head back to his dorm. He hadn't bothered looking at the stone noticeboard in his room since his release from the dungeon; a part of him blamed the Arena and the God of Balance himself for the predicament that he'd found himself in. But also he didn't see much point in fighting in the Arena right now. He'd already been told that his path wasn't the same as the others, and he truly wanted to understand himself before he dropped himself back out there on the sands. It would also be difficult to find a willing party now too; no doubt whoever he asked would want far more coin than the last pair of idiots. He could afford it, but he didn't particularly want to.
Eventually, instead of walking about the corridors back towards his dorm, Henderson found himself skirting first the main hall. It wasn't particularly by choice, but more because of the familiarity of his footsteps that would take him to the hall no less than three times a day.
And that was when he heard footsteps. Footsteps that somehow, like it was some divine superpower, he recognised.
The first and only person Henderson had come across was his father. It was like a shock to his system, a shock that sent him right back to the person he'd been only a week ago and more. A pampered ass.
"Father? What are you doing here?" Henderson asked, making his presence obvious.
Mr Valeri's stern face didn’t soften an iota as he approached his son. "Henderson, I’m here to see the Grandmaster about the attacks. The Council is in an uproar and... No, why are you here?" Mr Valeri asked accusatorially. “Were you not a part of the fighting? Or did you turn your back and cower?”
Henderson felt like he could’ve been blown over by a strong gust at that point. His father had always leapt to the least favourable conclusion, and that was part of the reason why Henderson had always tried to leave no indecision in his actions.
“I… uh…” Henderson started.
“I knew you wouldn’t have what it takes to be a Contestant. Not once have you shown yourself to be a true fighter. Not once have you showed the honour and valour your family name carries. Your older brothers are ashamed of you, I should have kept you locked away with your sister.”
“No,” Henderson replied quickly. “I was punished, after the Arena fight I was in,” he didn’t stop to hear if his father had seen it. “The Grandmaster said I cheated, made things too easy… and the God of Balance took away my Class… I’ve been locked in the dungeons for a week Father!”
It was all Henderson knew how to do. Blame someone else and hope that his father’s attention – and any possible vengeance – would fall to them. After all, blaming others was a damn good way of keeping the family name untarnished.
“The Grandmaster sentenced you to a week in the dungeons?” Mr Valeri almost spat. Henderson could see that his gambit had paid off too, as his father's ire shifted. “She thinks that she is able to exert control and power over a member of my family? That is an insult, boy!”
Henderson saw his opportunity and took it.
“She said that the God of Balance would be ashamed of me, and that throwing me in the dungeons would be the best way for me to learn my lesson!”
Henderson’s father had turned red with anger, and Henderson knew he’d already gone too far.
But to Henderson’s surprise, his father did something that he hadn’t done in a very long time: he put his hands on Henderson’s shoulders.
“Now listen to me, boy,” Mr Valeri said. “You may be a useless halfwit who cheats at any given opportunity, but you are a Valeri, and any punishments to be given will be delivered by my own hand!”
Henderson tried to pull away, but his father held him tight.
His father’s grip on Henderson was firm, a physical embodiment of his authority, and Henderson couldn’t help but regress again back to all the times when he was a child that his father, or indeed his older brothers did the very same thing.
“I'm going to speak with this Grandmaster, set things right,” Mr Valeri declared, his voice a rumbling undertone of controlled anger. “No one punishes my son but me, and certainly not by throwing him in a dungeon like a common criminal. We are Valeri’s, the best of the best, and we will be treated as such or else there will be consequences.”
Henderson felt a twinge of guilt at his father's words. He knew that it was his actions that had led to his punishment, and yet here was his father, ready to confront the Grandmaster on his behalf. But honestly he knew this was going to happen; the Valeri name meant everything to his father, far more than any of his children, their lives included.
“But Father,” Henderson interjected, finding his voice, “I did break the rules. I was wrong in what I did during the Arena fight.”
Mr Valeri released Henderson and stepped back, looking him squarely in the eyes. “Henderson, it's not just about right or wrong. It's about how the world perceives us, the Valeri family. We do not bow to anyone, and we certainly do not accept unjust treatment. You are my son, and I will not allow our reputation to be tarnished.”
Mr Valeri was a man who wholeheartedly believed in the power of their family name, in maintaining a certain image and status in society.
“Thank you, father,” Henderson said with forced gratitude in his voice. He knew that his father’s intervention was something that he couldn’t stop, so the only thing he could do was go with it and hope it would all blow over soon.
Mr Valeri nodded firmly. “Stay out of trouble for now, Henderson. I’ll handle this. We’ll talk more after I’ve spoken with the Grandmaster.”
Henderson nodded silently, then looked up at his father, deciding to ask the one thing he wasn’t sure whether or not he should ask.
“Father… do you know anything about the God of Chaos?”
Mr Valeri then stopped in his tracks. He’d clearly been ready for the conversation to have been over, but now his eyes had widened and his jaw stiffened.
“We obey the God of Balance here within the City,” Henderson’s father growled and took a step towards his son. “Tell me, boy, is there someone here that is preaching for the God of Chaos? Or is it a Contestant who has been led astray?”
Henderson wanted to back away, but he knew what would happen if he did. He stared back into his father’s blazing eyes and replied as assuredly as he could.
“No, father, it’s just not really spoken about very much here, and I wondered if I should know more.”
Henderson didn’t really know why he’d asked the question. He’d had some hope, some tiny spark of desire that his family might’ve been something like he was, but his father’s words had been all the confirmation that he needed to the contrary. He was alone in this place, and it would have to remain that way until the day came that he would leave.
He just had no idea where he was supposed to go.
With those last words, Mr Valeri turned again and strode towards Miss Kane’s office, his every step exuding authority and complete confidence in himself.
Henderson winced as he again recognised the gait, the footsteps, and the sound that came along with his father’s strides.
Left alone, Henderson felt a momentary sense of relief wash over him, followed quickly by a sobering realisation. His actions, his training, his very identity as a Contestant – they were completely different than everyone else’s. As long as he remained a Contestant in the Arena, he was going to have to find his own way and forge his own path.
And it wasn’t going to be easy.
