Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 390 - The Frozen Flame III

Krail grunted as he carefully placed a bundle of clothes in the wagon’s hold. The individual skinsuits were so thin that he didn’t dare to treat them roughly. Of course, they were not truly so frail. They had bought the enchanted bodysuits precisely because they would serve them well in the dungeon. Even without any enchantments, the rubbery fabric was incredibly resilient. With the local seamstress’ work woven into the fibres, they became fully functional, fire-retardant wetsuits.

“Alright, should be the last of the gear,” he said, as he climbed back into the driver’s seat. “We need anything else, or are we good to go?”

“It probably wouldn’t hurt to pack a few extra snacks,” said Chloe.

“Man, how many fucking times have I said it already?” Jules breathed a sigh. “We aren’t gonna need any snacks when most of the monsters are edible. You’ve already bought way too fucking many, and the general store literally just fucking closed.”

It was still early in the morning. The sky was not yet blue, the chickens were barely stirring, and even the sun was yawning. The party was only out and about because the tailor had threatened to close up shop if they took any longer. Most of the other local establishments had gone ahead and done just that. The few still open only served drinks, bodies, and other illicit products.

“But snacks…” said Lana.

“She’s right,” said Chloe. “Think about the snacks!”

“How about you shut the hell up and focus? Half closing his shell, Jules leaned against the side of the carriage. “This isn’t gonna be the type of dungeon where you can just dick around and start snacking.”

“Relax, Jules. It isn’t going to be that bad,” said Chloe.

“Yeah, tell me that after your dumb ass has taken half a second to look over the notes.”

“I do think he has a point there, Chloe,” said Krail. “You can’t keep putting it off.”

“Yeah, I know,” said the maid, her eyes averted.

“I know it’s not fun. One of my old party’s warriors had the same habit.” Krail stroked his chin as he lightly whipped the reins “He was a pretty good guy for a human. Reliable in a fight, real friendly too.”

“I’m pretty sure I know why you’re about to say, but I’ll bite,” said Chloe. “What happened to him?”

“Nothing,” said Krail. “Retired as soon as he hit thirty because he ‘needed to fuck bitches and get crunk.’ His words, not mine.”

Chloe raised a brow. “Was there supposed to be a moral to the story?”

“Well, not exactly, but if you want, I can tell you about all the unnecessary gruesome injuries he suffered. Karma always loved that man. Might’ve even had something to do with his obsession with ‘bitches.’”

“I-I think I’m fine for now,” said the maid, with a forced smile. “That sounds like the kind of thing that’d make me feel a little squeamish.”

“Perfect,” said Krail. “How about we start with the time his balls fell into a meat grinder?”

“I said I’m fine!”

“God damn, man.” Jules had his face twisted into a grimace and his hands held over his non-existent lower half. “You’re supposed to be hitting her, not me.”

“You don’t even have balls, do you?” asked Chloe. She followed his hands with her eyes, only to be denied when he shuttered his shell.

“Now I’m just gonna say, that’s none of your fucking business.” The voice from within was muffled, barely intelligible from the extent of the distortion. “But yes, I do. Fucking dumbass. How else do you think we breed?”

“Spray it into the water like a normal clam?”

“Motherfucker, what the hell do you think we use to make ‘it?’ Huh?”

“That’s a good point.”

“Snacks…” said Lana.

“I’m not sure that’s exactly what I’d repeat, given the context,” said Krail.

The banter continued as the carriage slowly rolled its way through the brilliant amber city. Its luminosity was only bolstered by the rising sun. Everything seemed to glimmer beneath the amber light, even the only member of the party who had refrained from participating in the conversation.

Sitting atop the carriage, Arciel gazed with her knees hugged to her disproportionate chest. The city was technically enclosed, but her giant witch hat fluttered in the wind regardless, its floppy sides flapping in much the same way as her black autumn dress. She had spent the past few days in a much better mood, but it wasn’t like she had eliminated her depression or anxiety overnight.

She occasionally needed to step away from the group to take a bit of a breather. And while she typically waited for a period of rest, she decided on that particular day to borrow the coach’s roof. Lana had coincidentally chosen to enter the ship a few minutes prior, and with Claire and Sylvia having split off, it became the perfect place for her to be by herself.

Tightening her grip on her knees, she buried her face in her arms and slowly closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do, not about her mood, nor even about the circumstance at hand. The truth of the matter was that she had wanted to take after Claire and challenge the dungeon by her lonesome. She needed the experience to grow stronger, and it didn’t seem efficient to split it five ways. But on that same note, she was far too afraid. She had never once dreamt of attempting such tomfoolery. Matthias had always been there for her, watching her back, keeping her safe. But Matthias had died protecting her. He was gone, and with him went the backbone on which she had always relied.

If she went without the group, death was likely all that awaited.

Of course, she was not so naive as to ignore the fact that rapid growth was impossible without repeatedly running the risk of failure. She had initially thought that she could pull it off if it came down to the wire, but hearing about the dungeon and its layout had completely shattered her hopes.

Its overall construction and thematic were not all that abnormal. By textbook terms, it fell under the type seven umbrella—it consisted of a series of floors, each of which was unlocked by the defeat of an explicit boss monster.

Type seven dungeons were by far the most common among those piped into the planet’s ley lines. The unsurprisingly named type eights presented less of a challenge to explore, but they were considered a greater threat overall. Rather than splitting their mana into a series of bosses, they focused them into a single individual.

It was the exact opposite approach taken by type nines. They spread their resources evenly and invested first and foremost in the average monster’s performance. There were no natural bosses, but that was precisely why those that eventually emerged were presumed to be top-level threats. They acquired the status after an intense struggle for survival, and unlike the monsters born in an ascended state, they earned theirs in much the same way as their challengers.

And that therein was the problem with Crimson Rock. Though technically a type seven, the bosses fought like transplants from a type nine.

If that were all, she might have been able to convince herself to go, but running solo meant remaining on guard for the duration of the exploration. Some of Griselda’s rituals had certainly entailed staying up throughout the moon’s journey, but forgoing a single night’s rest could hardly measure up to a full-on raid. She would need to overcome her body’s limitations before she could even attempt a one-man expedition.

Apparently, it was possible with training. Matthias had spoken of the technique on a number of prior occasions, and he had even subtly tried to nudge her towards its acquisition, but she had always refused him. There had simply been too many things to do, and she had always assumed that she could ask him to teach her at a later time.

After all, even though he was her guard, even though he had always sworn that he would give her his life, she had never expected to lose him.

Ciel buried her face in her thighs and rocked back and forth as she dug her fangs into her lips. She knew it was pointless and destructive, that the scent of her blood likely filled Chloe with worry, and that nothing could be done to bring him back, after she failed to act in the moment. Still, she continued to flood her mouth with the taste of iron. Something about it made her feel better. She couldn’t tell if it was the pleasant flavour, or if the pain was what dragged her mind from its depths. But whatever the case, she soon perked up and gathered her wits about her.

They were coming up on the city’s outermost edge, and even if they failed to recognize her identity, in spite of the crown jewel that decorated her hat, Arciel couldn’t have possibly allowed another nation’s soldiers to see her in anything but perfect condition.

Though a Kryddarian caravan setting out at the same hour likely would have drawn plenty of suspicion, the guards relaxed after taking one look in the carriage and finding it devoid of locals.

A brief inspection later, and they were back on the road. From that point on, the trip was much quieter. They spent the thirty-odd minutes of transport in silence, each of the fighters entertaining their own thoughts.

“We’re here,” said the elf. “Let’s take fifteen so everyone can get changed. If you have any final preparations, now’s the time.”

No one said much of anything, but the men filed out of the carriage with their wetsuits in hand while Arciel climbed back inside and shut its blinds behind her.

She turned around just in time to catch the fraction of a second it took Chloe to complete her preparations. It took exactly one blink for the maid to go from stretching the fabric out in front of her to wearing it beneath her uniform. Even then, it was barely visible, hidden beneath her uniform, her boots, and her gloves. It was only around her neck that the enchanted armour was visible.

“Do you want a fresh change of clothes?” asked Chloe. “I brought something that’s easier to move in just in case.”

“I would prefer it,” said Arciel.

“Alright. Then we’ll go with something a little lighter and more casual.” Chloe forced a bit of a smile as she took her mistress’ hand and dragged her away from the door. Perhaps already used to the whole song and dance, Lana was changing in one of the carriage’s far corners, completely out of the way of the queen and her maid.

She was slow and meticulous in the operation. She lifted the queen’s existing outfit off of her body and carefully stripped even the top half of her underwear. She wasn’t even trying to hide her stare. Her eyes were focused on Arciel’s chest, while her hands did all the work without any sort of supervision. Still, she got the job done much quicker than usual and placed Arciel in the rubbery fabric before throwing a light outfit on top. The bottom was a pair of long pants meant to obscure the armoured material, while the top featured a collared shirt that was thin, breathable, and perfect for the start of fall. It was a little bit translucent and possibly inappropriate in any other circumstance, but the protective layer beneath it kept everything important hidden from view.

If anything, the white on black only served to accent the lines of her body, and Arciel was not quite the biggest fan—she was still self-conscious of her recent weight gain—but her maid seemed perfectly content. She took a moment to hum and haw before suddenly shaking her head and masking the perverted grin with a more serious expression.

“Ciel.”

“What is it?”

“I’m here if you ever feel like you need to vent.”

Arciel twitched. She knew it was obvious, but she hadn’t realised that it was so bad her maid would feel the need to speak up while someone else was watching.

“Thank you, Chloe, but I shall refrain. I do not believe myself in need of any such aid.”

Though reluctant, the maid eventually gave a nod and backed away as she returned her mistress’ hat to its rightful position. “Alright.”

It looked like she wanted to say more, but she pursed her lips and lowered her head.

“You need not worry.” Arciel forced a smile. “It shall not be long before I recover.”

She suddenly felt her waist squeezed as she said the words. Looking down, she found Lana with her arms wrapped around it. It was only for a brief moment. She let go almost immediately, lightly bobbed her head, and exited the caravan without a single word. Chloe followed with a hug of her own, which Arciel allowed with a bit of a laugh.

“That is enough, Chloe,” she said, after the maid spent ten seconds attached. “The others are waiting.”

“Just a little longer,” said the half-succubus. “The boys aren’t done changing yet anyway.”

“I am not so certain, after you spent five minutes arranging my clothes.”

Lightly pushing the perverted maid away, she brushed her raven black hair out of her eyes and stepped through the coach’s closed blinds.

There was still much to do.

She might not have had the freedom, strength, or racial advantages demonstrated by the snake-moose who had gone on ahead, but she wasn’t about to sit around and remain discouraged. She still had the life that Matthias had saved. And no matter her mood, she was resolved to put it to good use.

He had died for the queen of Vel’khan.

So in his honour, by his will, she would play the part to perfection.