Chapter 304: For the Eternal Glory of Closetland!

Chapter 304: For the Eternal Glory of Closetland!

After dealing with the Dungeoneering evolution, Grotto gave us a report on how his Botany skill would affect crop production. The short version was “Lots!” The Core then petitioned us to find an intelligence director better suited for investigations since, in his words, “I amnaturally capable of overwhelming surveillance, but my talents are intended to evoke despair, not hunt down sewer-dwelling spies made of mincemeat and excrement.”

After that, we got some quick reports from the primary party members, starting with Varrin.

“I have modified the curriculum used to educate noble scions of the major houses,” he said. “I am not convinced that educating every single person, regardless of social status, is the most effective use of time and resources, but I trust you have your reasons.”

Varrin was our Director of Education. Listen, it’s not as weird a choice as you’d think. He literally had the Educator intrinsic and technically had the best education of anybody in the room. From a current-era Arzian perspective. I definitely had the most degrees, not that they mattered in the least for my résumé, given they were from a different planet entirely.

“People who know shit are less likely to do stupid shit,” I said. “Plus, they’re more likely to make neat shit and to be cool as shit.”

“Compelling,” Varrin said, dryly.

Nuralie was the Director of Commerce, and her report was the same one I’d come to expect.

“You are spending too much money.” Pause. “And not making enough in return.”

Details followed, but they weren’t important enough to bore you with.

“Closetland is probably the healthiest nation in the world, physically,” she said. “Mentally, it might be one of the worst. The majority of the current population are recently freed slaves, all of whom almost died when the Hierophant attacked, and none of whom were spared the death of a loved one.”

Lena leaned in, and I gestured for her to speak. “The slaves who made it here to Closetland are only a fraction of the slaves that were being used around Krimsim. Most were farmhands, assisting with the fall harvest. They were outside of Krimsim when the Hierophant attacked, and did not make it inside the city's walls.” She looked down and folded her hands on the table, swallowed, then looked back up. “Most of us have lost many more than one person close to us.”

Xim reached over to give Lena’s hand a squeeze, then leaned close to whisper something to her. Lena nodded at whatever Xim was saying as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. Xim sat back up, gave Lena another moment, then turned back to me. “Mental health will be a continual struggle,” she said, gently. “I think Vaulty made a really good point earlier when he mentioned the absence of entertainment, but the problem’s a lot bigger than that. Being able to disconnect is valuable. So is being able to return to some semblance of normalcy, to feel safe, secure, and in control of our lives. There’s not much of anything for normal people to do in Closetland to help them feel valuable and engaged.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Jobs are coming, you’ve got free rein to bring in whoever you need to help out. In the meantime, we can organize some more productive activities, along with some diversions.” I looked over Joma’s shoulder. “Cloaky can put on a concert.”

“I can?!” shouted the cape, causing three of us to wince. Everyone else was a stoic badass with their startle reflex beaten into a submissive pulp.

“Yeah, can you do visuals?”

“I got the whole package!” said the sapient piece of cloth.

“Nice. Make it something pleasant. No war epics or anything. Actually, fuck my opinions, I don’t know what I’m talking about. Coordinate with Xim on what she considers mindful content.”

Etja was the Director of Thaumaturgy.

“Magic shenanigans are going great!” she said. That was a good enough report for me.

Finally, it was my turn, where I presented the details of my conversation with Count Starion and went over the Littan request for our support during the empire’s upcoming “pacification efforts” in the Forest.

“Are they stupid?” asked Joma, crossing her white-furred arms. “The Hierophant almost murdered a whole city, and that’s the thing that got chased out of the Forest! What do they think they’re gonna find deeper in? A friendly fucking lumberjack?”

“The Hierophant caught them off guard,” said Varrin. “I suspect they will be fielding some of their powerhouses for this. General Connatis could have faced The Hierophant alone, and there are several Littan Delvers of an even higher level.”

“Great,” Joma said, rolling her eyes. “You think that’ll mean shit when they find an avatar in the woods?”

“Possibly,” said Varrin. “They have been attacked. It is understandable that they wish to retaliate and secure their borders.”

“It’s delusional is what it is. Maybe you get off on running head first towards godlings, but most people have more sense than testosterone.”

Varrin narrowed his eyes and started to reply, but I interrupted the pair before things could get heated. “Let’s think about what our objectives were for the Forest. Skill levels, right? Dungeons.” Ｒ𝙖NÖ𝖇Ɛs

Varrin’s stink eye lingered on Joma, but he eventually simmered down and turned his attention back to me. “Our skill levels have always lagged behind our stats,” he said. “The last three months gave us some solid progress towards bridging that gap.”

“According to your guidelines, Varrin, my current skill levels are in line with a Level 20 Platinum. Etja and I are tied for the lowest total skill levels, so I know everyone else has skilled up even higher. We’re Level 16. We could go smash four or five Delves at this point without our Delver levels getting ahead of our target skill levels. The question, then, is whether we want to stick around and grab more, or cut our losses and bail on the Littans.”

“This is true for our displayed levels, but to catch up with our real stats, we will need to make significantly more progress on our skills,” Varrin countered. Everyone nodded along, understanding that sentiment. Varrin seemed to hesitate, then quickly added to his statement. “Further, with twelve skill slots instead of ten, I believe amending the target skill levels from 20 per level up to 24 per level would be wise.”

That elicited a “Boo!” from Xim, and I tossed a pen at the big guy, which clacked and bounced off his sculpted jawline like it was made from marble. Nuralie muttered something impolite under her breath, while Etja just stared at Varrin with a pleasant, yet somehow terrifying expression.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“We’re strong enough that the System is literally using us as fixers instead of sending us to normal Delves,” I said. “And that’s without being at the right number of skill levels based on stats, which is just ridiculous anyway. We’re Level 16, and you want us to have a status sheet like we’re at the pinnacle of Level 28. We don’t need to escalate our targets even further.”

Varrin sighed in resignation, then mumbled something about complacency.

“Anyway, can you toss me my pen back?” I asked. Nuralie had designed our new ink pens, and since they were technically a machine, they got her self-repair effect. The ink inside counted as something that could be repaired, thus an infinite ink pen.

Also, mine said “KING” on the side in lovely gold calligraphy, courtesy of Etja.

“Why do they even need you?” asked Joma as Varrin masterfully landed the pen point-first in my beard.

“I was told we’d be helping with going deeper and identifying threats,” I answered, pen waggling as my jaw moved. “Scout work, essentially, and my portals make me a mobile fallback position. It helps that they already know us and that we can work well with Tavio and Team Pio.”

Xim chimed in. “I’ve never even heard of anyone getting skill levels as fast as we’ve been getting them the last three months. Most of the Forest’s Dungeons seem to cap out at skill level 40, so the fun’ll dry up eventually, especially if we take a pass and go off to do some Delves. It seems like it would be a waste not to hit every skill we possibly can while we’re here.”

Nuralie tapped the table with a talon. “We have not even gotten to the inner Dungeons,” she said. “Beyond the combat zones are the softer skills like Subterfuge, Leadership, Survival… These types of skills are not easy to level on their own.”

Etja raised a hand while Xim and Nuralie gave their opinions, then raised a second and then a third until I finally called on her. “Plus, this is where the action is!” she said. “If we want to investigate the avatars or try to figure out what happened to all of Brae’ach’s people, this is the best lead we have.”

“We aren’t ready for a direct confrontation with either,” said Varrin. “Not on our own, but having the full might of the Littan military behind us is the best safety net we could possibly ask for.”

“And if we find a problem too big for us, we can run away,” said Xim, waving at me. “Pop a deific portal, hop into the Closet, have a snack, and head somewhere else.”

“Let’s not underplay the risk,” I said, pulling the pen from my beard and twirling it between my fingers. “Yeah, nothing short of another deific effect can stop me from opening a portal, but the avatars all have some godly bullshit. I can think of plenty of situations where a portal might not be a solution.”

“One-shots,” said Nuralie. “Memetic hazards.”

“Do they have those in the first layer?” asked Xim.

“If they do, we’ll find them.” Pause. “Whether we want to or not.”

“None of us are in this for safety,” said Varrin. “Even if we were, there is no safety in leaving our foes to their own devices. In that way lies the end of everything, not just us.”

“I’m voting we stay and help,” said Xim. “I’ve even got a righteous quest of smiting from Sam’lia, and Tavio said they figure a monolith might be near the center of the Forest. That’ll put it riiiiight within smiting distance.”

“There is much to learn from the Forest,” said Nuralie. “And we can squeeze the Littans for more of their technology.”

“Or just steal some more!” said Etja.

“Is it really stealing when they leave it right out in the open?” asked Xim.

“Sure, right out in the open,” I said. “Mana weaves buried under multiple layers of metal, well-guarded, and in secure, non-public locations that I happen to teleport into my personal dimension.”

“Yeah, but to Etja, it’s basically out in the open. She can just look and see it through all the metals and stuff, then remember it perfectly.”

“If I can become incorporeal and walk through walls, are all the jewels in a jewelry store ‘right out in the open’?” I asked, then raised my hands to halt a response. “This is off-topic. I think we know how the party is leaning, but this is a request for Closetland, not just Fortune’s Folly. Does anyone else on the council want to speak on this topic?” I waited for a moment, but no one else felt compelled to add their opinion. “Very well. Etja?”

“All those in favor of sticking around and kicking ass?” She raised all four hands.

The ayes had it, and so began Closetland’s mercenary arc.

Shortly after the vote, Grotto took on a vacant look. “Hmm, a Littan runner has just delivered a missive to one of my golems,” he said. There was a beat of silence as he gazed off into the middle distance, presumably reading the letter. “It seems the empire is planning to organize a world summit, to occur in two months' time.” He raised a little man brow in my direction. “They have invited Your Majesty to speak.”

Xim leaned over with a big grin and clapped me on the shoulder. “You’re in the big leagues now, kid!”

“Gods above,” said Varrin. “Do they have any idea what they’ve done?”

Your Leadership skill has increased to level 36!

And so began Party Leader King Esquire Arlo ‘Soulsbane’ Xor’Drel, Esquire’s world leader arc.

*****

The next two months involved two main things. Neither of these things was the Forest Dungeons, since the Littans were being crabby and slowly reducing the number of people heading beyond the treeline. Ostensibly, this was to make room for their scouting teams and to prevent spooking anything within while they organized their campaign. I doubted that was the full story, but I didn’t press them on it.

Instead, I finally took some time to figure out how to upgrade my Exposure Therapy achievement. The achievement was originally solely for resisting Poison and Toxicity, but had gained Spectral resistance along with some soul defenses after our Hysteria experiences. However, it was the text of the original achievement that had me lounging in a miasma of deadly vapors throughout most of my days.

Exposure Therapy: Poison

You gain 25% resistance to poison. Isn’t that great? If you’re a no-good begging-chooser and don’t think that’s enough, then you can gain additional poison resistance by suffering higher levels of toxicity for even longer amounts of time. How much and for how long? Torment yourself endlessly until you figure it out!

I had, in all the time I’d had the achievement, gained an additional +1% to my poison resistance. Not only that, but it had happened only weeks after I’d gotten the achievement, when a member of the Artemix Group, trying to kidnap me, stabbed me with a poisoned knife. I’d been poisoned many, many times since then, and yet, there were no further increases to be had.

It kind of felt like that first bonus was a free hit from the System, trying to convince me to huff some lethal fumes for its viewing pleasure. Alternatively, I hadn’t been poisoned hard enough since then, although I had completely resisted the poison that had gotten me that first increase.

Nuralie and I pursued various theories, one of which was that the variety of poisons was what mattered. Most poisons I’d encountered in the wild were standard necrotoxins, designed to do as much harm as possible to a living target, whereas the poison that had gotten me the initial increase had been a paralytic.

Of course, the loson alchemist had treated me as a poison guinea pig several times in the past, testing various creative venoms, and that hadn’t been enough. These were controlled tests, however, designed to study the effects of the substance while imparting the least harm to my mind and body.

Our goal thus became to poison me with some weird shit, as hard as possible, without killing me. Nerve gas, hemotoxins, matrix suppressants, anticoagulants, all cranked up to 11, but that wasn’t all, oh no.

The Spectral resistance granted by the achievement also started at 25%, and while it didn’t have any explicit text encouraging me to let angry ghosts ravage my spiritual self to get more, we figured we’d test it to see if it shared the same growth benefits as the poison resistance. Conveniently, Nuralie had a variety of poisons that specifically dealt Spectral damage. It was how we’d poisoned the Specter of Orexis way back in the day, and she’d only been getting better since. All of her poisons could be converted to Spectral if she so desired. And she did so desire.

Now, I wasn’t willing to simply sit around while suffering miserable torment and exist in a constant state of near death. No, I still had plenty of bandwidth to be productive during that time. Besides, staying busy would take my mind off the excruciating agony.

This leads us to the second thing I worked on during this two-month interim, which was Smithing!