Chapter 28 - Silly Words

Lillia’s disaster with the dress hadn’t dissuaded Thorne from being…rather forward in fact, it might have encouraged her. After the incdient she’d been very clear about her interest in both Lillia’s fashion and Lillia herself.
Lillia tried to ensure Thorne knew that both were appreciated in their own way. The woman had done legitimately wonderful things with leather. Lillia just didn’t like drawing the connection between the two interests. The longer it went on, the less sure Lillia was that Thorne’s casual brushes were a negotiation tactic.
Thorne had treated the back room where the chitterpede had been as if it were an actual storage room. She ventured in, shutting the door behind her, and came back out with the potions first. Then told Lillia that she was going to need a minute to get the weapon together.
And that she would meet her downstairs on the third.
The third-floor landing was simpler than even the second had been. The gray flagstone from the cathedral floor had spread here as well, with one notable difference. The dust on the floor was thicker than it had been above. Lillia’s first step onto the third came with a small cloud of dust and several clumps that skittered away from her feet.
Had no one been down here? Had Sir Nobody ever gotten down here? Were there people here between him and Lillia?
Lillia looked at the three doors. The first was an unassuming wooden door inlaid deep into the wall, deeper than it should have been. The second was a stone slab, barely carved from the wall itself, and contained the same etching pattern as the wall’s bricks with no clear way to open it. The third was a towering thing of black metal. At the top of the third door, there was a window covered with thick iron bars.
Notably, there was no stairway down from the third.
Just as Lillia finished surveying the floor, she heard the tapping of Thorne’s boots on the stairs behind her.
“Figured out what I was giving you for the carcass,” Thorne said as Lillia turned. The woman was carrying a polearm in the bottom two arms, a polished wooden handle, and a long slashing bladed end. It was different from any spear Lillia had ever seen. But she’d only ever seen the ones in the barracks. “Figured it was appropriate.”
“Thank you, Thorne,” Lillia said. “That’s very kind of you.” Lillia had realized over the course of their conversation she was speaking to Thorne in a higher register than she had to Havoc or to herself during her time in the dungeon. She knew what it was. It was her courtly voice, the kind she used to speak to someone proper.
Thorne handed over the polearm and Lillia accepted it. It was warm where the Huntsmaster’s hands had been. “Ain’t too kind to me. I’m getting something out of it. Don’t you go telling people I’ve gotten soft.”
“There is nobody for me to tell,” Lillia said. “But I won’t tell a soul.”
“Good.”
“I will say everyone I’ve been able to speak to down here has been…I wouldn’t call it pleasant. You’re probably the closest to that. But at least capable of kindness.”
“You probably just throw everyone off, is all, sugar.” Thorne said. She slipped in beside Lillia on the step as she said it. “Usually a lot of aggression comes through those doors and then—Well, I don’t know how to say this kindly, but there is some charm to the bumblin’.”
Lillia nodded. In a better place, in more proper circumstances, she might have fought the bumbling accusations, but she couldn’t pretend she had been the picture of grace during her time in the dungeon. “Thank you again, Thorne.”
“Pleasure for both of us,” Thorne adjusted her hat, running her honey fingers along the blue brim. She’d put one of the Ambusher’s feathers in it. “Can’t wait to tear that beastie apart.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a…good time.” That was another part of courtly grace: respecting other people’s traditions.
“And that hobgoblin upstairs. Sure you want me to leave him together?”
“Yes,” Lillia said too fast.
“Alright, alright, I get it. Just thought I could pull some fangs out of him and give you a potion for the trouble.”
“No, thank you.”
“You know they’re pretty useful; you can use them—”
“Thorne, if I would like that information, I will ask for it later,” Lillia said. It was a diplomatic translation of “Ew, don’t tell me what to do with my friend’s teeth if I pull them out.”
“Well, good luck then.” Thorne turned to leave.
“Wait, Thorne!” Lillia put a hand on the Huntsmaster’s shoulder, and the bee-woman caught it before it could escape. “Which door has the hearth?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Thorne said.
“You said you could help me.”
“I did. I have gotten you closer. And I gave you that lovely bardiche,” she pointed at the polearm. “I didn’t say I have much guidance.”
“But…you live here.”
“I live on the first sometimes,” she said, “And I hunt on the second in the hunting grounds you burned down.”
“Sorry about that.”
“It’ll reset, just rest a couple of times sooner rather than later so I don’t get too bored. Otherwise, I’ll have to come hunt you down.”
Lillia chuckled politely, even though she wasn’t 100% convinced that had been a joke. “If I accidentally let something out of a room again, I’ll give you a shout.”
Thorne shook her head, “Just be careful with that door in front of you. Don’t leave that one open on me.”
Lillia looked at the intimidating black door. For a second she swore she could hear skittering from the other side. “I’m going to assume that’s Nennia.”
“Her reputation precedes her.”
“You’re scared of her?”
“Don’t put that label on me. I’m the Huntsmaster. I’m not scared of anything. I just prefer not to.”
“Prefer not to what?”
“If she’s involved, the entire package.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“Don’t mention it, sugar.”
“One more thing,” Lillia said.
“Yes?”
“If you know about Nennia, what about Eisel?”
Thorne squeezed Lillia’s trapped hand tight and then let go. “If you need me before you rest again, I’ll be in the lodge trying to get some things cleaned up in there. If you need me after you’ve rested, either find me in the hunting grounds or kill something worth talking about.”
Lillia waited, her hand hovering over the Huntsmaster’s shoulder for a moment. She pulled it back and let the line of questioning die with Thorne’s reluctance to answer. “I’ll try to bring something good if I see you.”
“You do that, girl.”
When Thorne left, she actually walked away. Rickshaw had disappeared. Havoc had a habit of dying. Thorne left up the stairs, the feather in her cap and her hips swaying pointedly. Lillia cocked her head. Back at court, all the women were wearing dresses, but she could see the potential of pants.
Halfway to the second landing, Thorne turned back around. “Check out that bardiche by the way. Think it’s one of the better options for you.”
Lillia raised the polearm instead of waving. It was heavy when she tried to lift it with one hand. “I will!”
“Come find me on the grounds, sugar. We can have some fun together.”
That also received a polite laugh from Lillia. Any other response risked inviting Thorne to explain what she thought some fun would be.
Lillia turned back to the three doors. She knew there was zero chance she should look through the intimidating metal door first. Nennia was many things. None of them were Lillia’s first choice.
Of course, based on Lillia’s luck, the hearth was going to be back there with…whatever Nennia was.
Then there was the stone door, which had no handle Lillia could perceive. Which meant no way to get in as far as Lillia was concerned. That left one option: the recessed wooden door.
The doors hadn’t said much about the room beyond thus far, but it was the only thing Lillia had to go off. She stood in front of that door and planted the bardiche in front of her.
Bardiche. That was a weird word.
Just when she was about to inspect it, Lillia paused. She pulled one hand off the bardiche and laid it on the clasp of the Usurper Lord’s Cloak.
Lillia didn’t know much about Thorne, but based on her title and her casual mention of people attempting to slay the ambusher, that woman could certainly handle herself. Unlike Havoc, who’d been terrified of Nennia. Thorne seemed to consider her more ‘not worth the effort’ than fatal.
Even with all that confidence Thorne had clammed up at the mention of Eisel. Between that and the man asking her to keep the conversation a secret from Havoc…Lillia understood from their interaction that Eisel wasn’t good news, but Thorne’s reaction re-contextualized things.
It was worth keeping an eye on those others who bothered to keep an eye on them . Lots of eyes looking out for each other kept everyone safe. At least the spymaster had always said that.
Then again, he’d been working for Lillia’s aunt.
Before examining the bardiche, Lillia pulled on the clasp of the cloak until the text changed and showed her its information once again.
[There will come days when the sun blackens and the sky bleeds. The dungeon will never know. Its Lord will. Plan and wait for the day of black sun, fight for the throne you deserve.]
Lillia nodded and let go of the clasp, letting the text fade away. Eisel was a candidate for the Dungeon’s Lord. Or somebody powerful enough to challenge the throne.
Which, Lillia supposed, was pretty powerful. Until she had gotten this item, she didn’t consider a dungeon lord a possibility. But someone in charge of a horrible place like this probably had to be powerful to keep its denizens in line.
Lillia tapped the handle of the bardiche on the ground twice. This seemed like the kind of weapon she could use. It kept her further away from the blood and guts.
[Huntsmaster’s Bramble Slasher]
[Strength 15 - Deals Slashing Damage]
[Required Level 6 - Bypassed by ‘Thorne’s Gift’]
[After 3 hits, the Bramble Slasher surrounds a target’s legs in thorns that dig into their legs if they try to retreat from the fight. These thorns break if the owner of the slasher retreats by more than 30 feet from the target.]
[Love the hunt. Savor the chase, but don’t deny your prey their chance to experience true battle before the end.]
Lillia squeezed the handle of the Bramble Slasher. Thorne had gifted her a weapon that prevented her enemy from running away and escaping, as the Ambusher had. Did that mean she had been watching? Did that mean she had seen Lillia die and done nothing?
It was easy to forget what kind of place the dungeon was when Lillia found moments of kindness within it.
Beyond that, how the hell was Lillia supposed to remember what 30 feet was when she was in the middle of a fight?
That was something for her to worry about once she managed to hit something three times. Lillia nodded to herself and gripped the bardiche tight with both hands, holding it out in front of her as she pushed open the recessed wooden door.
Onward, hopefully to a second hearth.