But for a Slime

* * *

Deep within Joe’s psyche, mana particles and mana points began integrating within who Joe was. Two libraries evaluated their new host and quickly learned that while Joe was trusted, he was not of either approved lineage and quickly integrated into Joe’s mana being but seeking to attach deep within his subconscious, below his awareness. The libraries unintelligent evaluative processes preferred action when their host was unconscious if their host was unapproved or simply cursed with their presence. But, due to the emergency nature of the shifting, the libraries initiated action immediately. The attachment occurred quickly and easily. Then, an inert and passive working initiated, slowly removing their presence from the conscious of their host. When the working was complete, the report was one of success, and like all non-intelligent decision actors, they accepted it without concern or much evaluation. And Joe simply continued to rage.

* * *

The city of Coushar broiled like a dropped bee hive, people spilling from their homes in mad and wild confusion. Citizens huddled together in family units, bending protectively over precious wealth and children as they struggled down the streets attempting only to stay on their feet and keep their children afloat in the massive slow churning waves of humanity. None attempted to guide themselves, simply being pushed along by the swell of moving flesh towards the nearest clan gate.

Like rocks breaching against the waves of humanity, clumps of soldiers struggled in the opposite direction, off duty soldiers, called to return in the current emergency. The crowds of citizens broke and parted to allow the soldiers through as many a group grew impatient, clubbing a path through the crowds.

The massive movement of the peoples of the city of Coushar began with a trickle and ended in floods at the gates to the clan city. The clan guards struggled to funnel people through even as the clan walls soon populated with clanners preparing to defend against any breach.

The non-clan finally made it to their posts as the crowds thinned and the outer gate and outer city wall guards were gutted, leaving behind only skeleton crews to guard the gates, walls, and scout towers.

Most of the guards were sent to the three open dungeons with around half sent to the advanced dungeon, a third sent to the intermediate dungeon, and the remaining pittance sent to the beginner dungeon.

Around the various dungeons, the dungeon guards struggled to hold back to the tides of monsters erupting from them. They still held the initial defense, guards holding a small four or five person wide defense directly at the mouths of the dungeons, swordsmen back by spearmen huddling behind the massive shieldmen. The beginner dungeon did well to hold the initial line, pressing back against the simple goblins and various beasts of the initial floors. The line would immediately fall, however, when the final Great monsters on the fourth and fifth floor breached. They would know to retreat to the dungeon defensive walls when the snows started to show for the Great slimes and hobgoblins would show soon after.

The intermediate dungeon, however, struggled to hold the initial line. They had only barely enough to hold while they desperately held for reinforcements. When the city guard showed up with only a pittance, the dungeon captain of the intermediate dungeon raged.

“Where are … This is unacceptable! The entire guard must be…”

“Sir. Apologies, but the other two dungeons also are breaking.”

The captain’s tirade immediately ended, fear freezing his words, “Oh… oh! Oh… that… Loki’s pestilent balls!”

The captain turned from the walls and stared down at his men struggling to hold the initial line. His despair swelled even as his face blanked, firming to utter determination.

“Down off the walls. Report to the sergeant defending. Set your lines to help, intersperse your strong shieldmen with weak spearmen and the opposite as well. Strongest shieldmen to hold the center. Intersperse your men with ours. Five minute rotations. Emergency rotation if a spearman falls. Healers, same.”

The guards streamed into the inner gate and the captain remained stone-faced even as he despaired.

Over at the advanced dungeon, eerie silence hung, heavy and cloying. It was interrupted for a short time by the charging march of the city guards sent to defend, but quickly returned, the susurrus of the city guards soon matching the tense nervous fear and growing worry of the advanced dungeon guards as the break continued on and on and no monster erupted from the dungeon maw. The captain stood his ground, patience and unconcern personified, but his mind roiled. Finally, his façade cracked, and a small grimace flickered across his lips.

“Bring me the fastest scout.”

“Yes, sir,” the next messenger in line immediately saluted before sprinting off down the walls. The scout was at his side almost instantly.

“Sir?”

The captain breathed deep, pausing, then began, “Take three defenders… the best. Head to the first floor of the dungeon. Have the defenders hold the exit for you while you scout it. Report what you find.”

The scout’s nose flared, his eyebrows flinching wildly before his fist slammed into his chest and he nodded, “Yes, sir.”

The captain didn’t hide his grimace this time, but remained stoic, “Don’t get yourself killed! Live. But get me something.”

The scout nodded easily this time, comforted with the captain’s concern, “Yes, sir!”

The captain held himself firm as the scout disappeared in a swirl of wind. He watched on as the scout showed up only moments later at the entrance to the dungeon and called out for several defenders before all four plunged into the depths. Then, he could only wait. The first several moments proved easy enough but as time stretched on, the captain grew ever more concerned.

When the scout and defenders returned back through the dark entrance of the dungeon, the captain struggled to keep his sigh of relief hidden. He didn’t have to struggle long as the scout appeared at his side in a swirl of wind.

“Captain.”

“Report.”

The scout stared at the captain and struggled before finally speaking, “I do not know, captain, but I heard… the beasts … the first floor is empty; as is the second. When I entered the entrance to the third floor, I began to hear a thunderous noise. About a third of the way down the staircase, I was able to hear the roars of beasts. I… did not explore further and returned immediately.”

The captain remained silent for some time after that before he turned to the scout, “The first and second floors were empty.”

“Yes, captain.”

He fell silent once again for a time, “Could you watch from the second floor entrance and still have enough space to flee.”

The scout frowned then shook his head, “I do not think it is possible, captain. The second floor’s sight lines are too… poor.”

The captain nodded at that, “First floor?”

The scout quickly nodded, “Easily.”

“And other scouts?”

The scout paused at that, “Possible the five fastest… definitely the top three.”

“Including you?” the captain asked with a soft smirk.

“I am the fastest. The others fight for second.”

The captain laughed, “Then return to the first floor. Take two and alternate watch ever bell. Alternate both every great bell.”

“Yes, captain.”

The scout sped away in a swirl of wind once again and the captain’s soft smile vanished, a blank face of stone replacing it. To his side, the ranged fighters on the wall continued their rotation, holding the line and regularly alternating their watch. One rather dirty looking guard slipped off to the side once his shift had been called. He made it to his barracks and then claimed a need for the bathroom. Making it outside, he wandered off towards the outhouse before slipping to the side then using the outhouse as a blind to slip away. He glided along the dungeon wall until he’d gotten out of sight of the barracks.

He then paused and glanced up at the wall, watching carefully until the latest guard passed the wall before he sprinted across the way into the closest alley. The man took a moment to catch his breath before quickly sprinting deeper into the city. Only got a couple bells! The man sprinted through the alley towards the merchant sector as quickly as he could.

* * *

The Matriarch stood before the clan’s training dungeon, watching on imperiously as it spewed forth beast after beast. The report of a dungeon break came as a shock and she despaired. To have a dungeon break was an embarrassment. To have a clan’s training dungeon break could be grounds for losing a city. She’d had a training dungeon break while the clan overlord’s representative was in the city itself.

Despite the crisis, the Matriarch was able to maintain her face and was already considering options to smooth out the relations with the overlord clan Bunarl as well as the overlord representative. A perfect core… a perfect dual core to the … maybe some regents or… ah! A bone of the city killer for the representative! A kingly gift for…

“Where is the Bunarl representative?” the Matriarch softly asked her nearest advisor.

The man leaned forward to whisper softly, “Still within Bunarl residences, Matriarch.”

“His humor?”

“Poor.”

The Matriarch grimaced and dismissed the servant before turning her attention back to the clan dungeon. OK. Possibly the bone and a perfect core… two perfect cores… one for him and one… no… one perfect core would already draw attention. Two will draw too many questions. But then…

The Matriarch’s thoughts were disrupted by the arrival of a messenger and her careful thoughts cracked with news of a second dungeon break from the medium dungeon. Her calm shattered when news of breaks from the other two dungeons were reported only moments after one another and her careful façade of control shuddered for a few moments before she could bring it back under control. She struggled to reengage her machinations as despair overwhelmed her and clutched at her thoughts. He breathing was barely controlled and her mind stuttered through option after option, discarding them all before a sudden new presence at her side broke her form her thoughts.

“Matriarch?” Gwenvaire bowed carefully at her side and she sighed. At least she is safe!

“Daughter.”

Gwenvaire stared up at her in shock, failing to keep her face controlled, “Mom?!?”

The Matriarch smiled sadly as she brought a hand up to her daughter’s cheek. Today was likely her last day as Matriarch. Her smile turned bitter but she found some comfort in standing at her daughter’s side. At least she’s safe!

“The eccentric?”

Her daughter’s façade cracked a little, “He delves.”

“Can he help?”

“He will, mother.”

Her smile grew more hopeful, although her hope still lay withered. He can help mitigate the damage. I… won’t surv… The Matriarch excised her thoughts and returned to her task. Little else could be done.

* * *