Almost an hour after he’d been taken from the market, Romulus found himself admiring an opulent sitting room within the inner city of Blackstone. Isolde and her team, with surprising military efficiency, had escorted him away from the bustling crowds of the city’s Grand Bazaar, travelling westward through the settlement. They had bypassed several checkpoints he likely would never have been able to pass alone, given the critical eyes of the heavily armored guards—Wardens, so he’d learned—that appraised his ragged attire skeptically.
The towering walls of the inner city had hidden an entirely different version of the Blackstone he’d been exposed to.
When they’d entered the area, the traffic had died off considerably, though the presence of guards had ratcheted up in tandem—as had the evident wealth and cleanliness of the inhabitants within its walls. Unsurprisingly, the guards within the inner city immediately stood out as both better presented and better supplied than those he’d already seen.
They vastly outclassed Tom and Jerry in terms of equipment and general health.
More than that, they presented a far more disciplined mien.
Where the guards in the outer city had been casually aware, the inner city hosted a switched-on cadre of wary watchmen—each one alert and attentive, even under the strange fugue that seemed to hold the city in its grip.
According to his updated map, Blackstone consisted of three different layers: the outer city, the inner city, and the city heart. Each layer was divided by a single massive gate, with no alternative entry points—at least none marked on the map. Given that the city was, in fact, built onto towering bluffs overlooking the ocean, with an ascending architecture that rose to a zenith where the Necropolis was built, Romulus was not surprised.
The only way to invade Blackstone was to assault it layer by layer, gate by gate.
He did not want to think about the cost in lives such an undertaking would incur.
It was through the second of these gates that Isolde had led him when entering the inner city, and it was only a few hundred meters from the third and final gate that she led him.
“That gate leads to the restricted section of the city,” she had informed him with cool professionalism. “You are strongly advised not to attempt access without permission. For your safety and the city’s, the guards will not let anyone pass without express permission from the city’s leaders.”
Romulus had filed that information away and turned to follow her when they had diverted to one of the inner city''s largest and most palatial villas.
All of the immense residences were wrought of the same obsidian-hued stone as the walls and Necropolis, which told Romulus that the buildings had likely belonged to some sort of noble elite within the city during the time of the Revenant-King—possibly even his Death Knights and other followers of the Dark Lady.
Of course, that was just a guess, but it seemed to make the most sense.
The skull iconography everywhere certainly lent credence to his theory.
Isolde had dismissed all but two of her Wardens upon arrival, and led him deeper into the estate afterwards—passing at least two dozen guards in various areas as she led him toward what seemed to be the heart of the villa. It was as palatial internally as it appeared externally, and Romulus did not miss the fact that the villa''s total size was enough to house a small army by itself comfortably.
It was more like a small manor-castle than merely a luxurious home.
Finally, she had told him to wait in the sitting room he now occupied, which was adorned with enough gilded finery that even his eclectic mother would have cooed in delight. The floor was decorated with a gold-bordered green carpet, matched to a similar theme in the chairs and various secondary and tertiary decoration pieces.
The walls were covered in a tasteful selection of portraits and tapestries, some displaying what were no doubt famous ancestors, while others depicted battles against creatures of evil. In one place, heavy drapes were hung to obscure a section of the wall, and Romulus could only guess at what manner of dark adornment had been permanently added to the forbidding estate.
He tapped the hilt of his sword in thought as he waited, still amused by the sequence of events that had allowed him to keep it.
First Isolde had asked him to hand it over, and the moment he had: the man who tried to take it nearly launched himself away in his speed to wrench his hand back. That hadn’t gone over well, until Romulus had explained that the sword was soulbound to him. He’d called it a gift to aid his new life as a traveler on Eternus, directly from the Pantheon—which hadn’t technically been a lie.
Lilith was part of the Pantheon, even if they all hated her.
At that point, a small debate had occurred between his escorts until Isolde had grudgingly decided that even if he had the weapon, he was too ill-equipped to present any real danger to the Duke or anyone else in the estate—though he would be carefully observed. He didn’t know how she seemed so confident in that assessment, but given his attempts at using [Examine] had failed on her and her Wardens, he assumed it was a matter of level difference.
A pulse of derision had come from the sword at her words, regardless, though Romulus had wisely said nothing. Lightsbane probably could have done some real damage on its own merit, but with no armor, no bag, no potions, and still no idea how to use his Dark Mana—an oversight he desperately needed to correct—Romulus didn’t like his chances.
Boredom crept up on him as he looked toward the clock in his HUD and hummed in surprise. At least four hours had passed in-game, yet true to the developers'' word, his local time only showed the clock edging toward 8 p.m., though it was shown as ‘20:00’. The time compression was awesome. He could pass an entire day and night in-game and only be playing for six hours in the real world.
He’d have to take a break to eat and use the bathroom at some point, but that was a problem for later. He assumed Alfred would alert him when it was time, or the System would remind him. Those sorts of safety protocols were largely standardized in VRMMOs—especially deep immersion ones, though none had come anywhere near Eternus Online regarding sheer realism.
Romulus once again let his eyes roam the room''s interior until they rested on the obscured area of the wall dominating the far end of the sitting room. Situated on the eastern wall, it was in perfect view of the two sets of doors entering the room from north and west, and Romulus couldn’t help the curiosity that rose within him at what could be under the curtains.
Glancing at the door he’d entered from and then to the other one, Romulus threw caution to the wind and marched to the end of the sitting room. His left hand rested on the skull-head pommel of his blade as he did, and he took comfort in its presence. Soothing pulses came from the weapon, as if it were trying to reassure him of the correctness of his choice to investigate. That only stoked his curiosity, and Romulus determinedly extended his right hand toward the drapes.
When he pulled back the heavy fabric, what he saw was not what he expected.
A large family portrait hung on the wall, displaying a proud-looking man with brown hair and what Romulus would call wise, compassionate eyes. He was adorned in a formal tunic in green and gold and had an elegant-looking blade strapped to his hip. His legs were hidden behind a high-backed chair, and his right arm rested atop it.
In the chair itself sat an elegant blonde woman with bright blue eyes, and a familiar cast to her features. Her hair spilled down from her head to her waist, and she wore a dress of similar coloration to her presumptive husband with a gentle smile on her features.
Last was a young lady, perhaps eighteen years of age, tall and thin, with a sword at her side and a decidedly exuberant expression on her face. She stood on the other side of the chair, her features clearly corresponding to those of the seated woman.
A sense of recognition struck him, and he peered at the girl more intently.
Two seconds later, his jaw dropped.
It was Isolde, looking nothing like the ice princess he’d met.
“Wow,” Romulus said with quiet appreciation, his eyes never leaving the young Isolde as she beamed at him from the portrait. The Isolde in the painting was already visibly of a height with her father. However, she possessed none of the feminine curves that the adult Isolde possessed, even in her armored uniform. The hint of them was present, but it was a far cry from the woman he’d met. He wondered if the young girl had known how powerful—and gorgeous—she had been destined to become.
“What are you doing?”
Isolde’s icy voice cut into his ruminations, and Romulus spun in surprise, cursing his low level [Perception] as he did. She had likely entered the room while he’d been absorbed in analyzing her family portrait.
“Sorry. I got curious,” he said contritely with a gesture at the picture. “I didn’t actually know you were the Duke’s daughter.”
“Why, do you have a problem with me serving as my father’s Captain because I’m his daughter?” she demanded coldly. “Do you think I’m only in my position because of our relationship?”
The sudden anger in her voice took him aback, and Romulus held up his hands in a gesture of peace and surrender.
“Woah! I never said that. I think it’s great that you followed your dreams.”
“What the hell do you know about my dreams, Traveler?” she asked dangerously.
Romulus quickly gestured at the portrait again while working to keep her calm. “The painting, I guess. You obviously have a lot of pride in what you’re wearing and how you’re presented, and you look really happy. I can only guess, but I wouldn’t call that a begrudging face. You must have wanted to be a soldier, and—” he glanced at the portrait “—your mother obviously looks very happy, and so does your father. I can only imagine they’re both very proud of you.”
Isolde stared at him for a long moment, and then slowly turned to the portrait.
Her expression softened briefly when she looked it over, eyes lingering on her mother, until she turned back to him again. “My mother died shortly after that was painted, so I wouldn’t know her mind on my vocation,” the blonde responded icily. “Now if you are done gawking, shall we see the Duke?”
Of course, her mother’s dead. He groaned internally. That’s precisely the kind of thing that would be the case in this sort of situation. Well done, idiot! You just walked into the most classic gaming trope in history.
Despite his internal self-recrimination and bafflement at the monumental chip on her shoulder, Romulus nodded in what he hoped was a contrite manner. “That sounds great,” he said with sincere relief. The situation was incredibly awkward, and he mentally added ‘imposter syndrome’ to Isolde’s list of details. “Lead on, Captain.”
Isolde gave him one more cold look and turned to open the door she’d entered from, which was not the door he’d been brought in with. Romulus promptly stepped to it and followed her, falling into position behind the towering blonde as she strode down a long corridor wide enough for ten people in formation and lit by the sun, its rays slanting in through arched windows filled with stained glass.
When Romulus took the time to properly look at the windows above and to the right, he nearly tripped in amazement. Each of the windows depicted a different warrior in forbidding attire, either standing on a field or sitting astride an equally terrifying mount. He recognised what must have been several different Revenant Runeblades, though they all looked subtly more menacing and lethal than his own.
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“I suppose that’s what we can look forward to?” he questioned under his breath.
Lightsbane pulsed with eager confirmation in reply.
The corridor ended in massive black doors, and Isolde nodded to the two wardens on duty. The pair snapped to attention at the sight of their Captain, and slammed their silver-mailed fists against their tabard-covered chests. Romulus offered each of them a smile as Isolde led him past, though with their visored helmets covering their faces, all he received back was the impassive view of cold steel.
What he’d seen in the stained glass of the corridor had surprised him, but what he saw in the Duke’s throne room took his breath away.
The room''s ceiling was easily twenty feet above them, with massive stained glass windows from floor to ceiling depicting battles, gatherings, and triumphant men and women that Romulus could only assume were Death Knights. Twelve windows framed the long room on each side, spaced almost a dozen feet apart, and two wardens stood on either side of each window.
As they walked along the gilded green carpet, however, it was the stained glass window—the most immense one—above the throne which most captured Romulus’ interest. It depicted a man with obsidian hair down to his chest, wearing a bone-white crown inlaid with diamonds, and attired in skull-bearing warplate that seemed at once menacing and regal in equal measure. His large armored hands were wrapped around the hilt of a massive Revenant Runeblade, and his eyes burned with wisps of cold blue fire.
“The Unknown King,” a voice called out, drawing Romulus’ attention back to the throne and the muscular black-haired man sitting upon it. He’d utterly glossed over the occupant, who was clearly the Duke himself, in his wonder at seeing the stained glass rendition on the back wall.
“Unknown King?” Romulus inquired before he could help himself, and drew a sharp glance of reprimand from Isolde.
“Yes,” the Duke answered while examining him with assessing brown eyes. “Nobody knows who he is or why he’s attired in such a macabre fashion, but he was evidently someone of great importance. Either the owner of this estate, or the owner''s master.”
“That theory holds merit,” Romulus agreed as he closed the last few feet of distance between himself and Isolde, and stopped beside her when she came to a halt.
“Your Grace,” Isolde said with cold formality, “I present the Traveler Romulus per your summons.”
Romulus was certainly not from any kind of nobility in the real world, but he was hardly new to fantasy settings thanks to his earlier forays into less advanced VRMMOs and MMOs in general. He executed a polite bow, left hand on his sword hilt and right hand clenched at his side while he bent at the waist. “It is an honor, Your Grace,” he said while remembering his history lessons. “Your home is breathtaking.”
“Oho!” the Duke said with a smile. “The Traveler has courtly manners. Were you a Lord in the place Beyond, before you came to Eternus?”
“No, Your Grace. I just paid attention to my lessons on etiquette,” he explained with a wry smile—another score for his preparatory school.
The Duke leaned forward at that, raising his eyebrows. “How interesting. You will need to tell me more about this, perhaps, another time.”
“If Your Grace so desires,” Romulus agreed amicably.
Congratulations, you have learned a new skill!
Skill Name: Intrigue
Skill Type: Active
Skill Rarity: Uncommon
Skill Function: Each level of Intrigue grants bonuses to your ability to navigate the realms of power within Eternus’ myriad lands and territories. Each level of Intrigue will give you a requisite increase to your CIO and CRIO when engaged in courtly, political, and other similar affairs. (Current Bonus: 1%)
Skill Level: Novice 1
Skill Description: You have demonstrated a remarkable talent for the interactions of the courts of the land, and shown yourself to be a shrewd and intelligent individual in the eyes of a member of one of the world’s many monarchic societies. Not to be confused with Charisma, Intrigue represents your ability to identify and navigate complex and intricate social dynamics.
“So removed from what I’ve been led to expect,” the Duke said with evident fascination, and a subtle look of amusement not unlike someone observing a particularly interesting animal. “Here I thought all of you Travelers would be boisterous and belligerent headaches we would have to deal with. Instead, you already prove that inviting you here was the right choice.”
Romulus maintained his polite smile despite the Duke’s words. He’d hardly been ‘invited’. That implied a refusal right, which Isolde had certainly not given him.
“Perhaps you should impress upon the Traveler the reason for your summons, Your Grace?” Isolde prompted coolly while standing off to the side now that introductions had been made.
“The Captain is right, of course,” the Duke said, seemingly without much overt affection toward his daughter, given the near-disregard in his tone of voice. That explained the impostor syndrome, at least. Romulus added ‘parental issues’ to Isolde’s list mentally. “I did ask you here for a reason, after all,” the Duke continued. “I am told Travelers are uniquely gifted in ways that could be of great value to me, and to my city.”
Romulus could feel the prelude to another Quest as he answered.
“How might this Traveler serve the Duke?”
“I have a problem, Traveler Romulus,” the Duke responded with a pleased smile that never quite reached his eyes. “No doubt you have seen the large fortress that dominates the inner city?”
“I have, Your Grace.”
“Then you have seen my problem. There is an… issue with this fortress, one that more mundane assistance has been unable to solve for me. I was rather hoping that you might be able to succeed where they failed, regardless of your relative ignorance of our world.”
Is he seriously about to give me a free access ticket to the Necropolis?
Despite his thoughts and internal glee, Romulus remained outwardly calm to the best of his ability. “I am not sure if I have the ability for whatever it is you’re asking, Your Grace, but I would be happy to make the attempt. The Duke’s good graces would be incredibly useful for a new Traveler.”
The Duke smiled in approval of his words. “You see, Captain? This is the kind of fearlessness I’ve been looking for! You said it could not be done, but this Traveler does not even hesitate,” the Duke continued with an explicit disparagement for Isolde’s apparent refusal. “This must be the courage of an immortal. If only my Wardens had bravery such as this.”
Isolde said nothing, though Romulus noticed with a glance that her expression was icily neutral. She appeared to be standing at picture-perfect parade rest, and studiously keeping her eyes trained just above the Duke’s head.
“Do you have a quest for me, Your Grace?” Romulus prompted while deciding not to drag out the discourse for his own sake.
“I do indeed. I want you to enter the fortress, Traveler Romulus, and I want you to fix whatever plagues it by any means necessary. Whatever you need to make that happen, you shall have it.”
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; border-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 1); border-style: double; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
SYSTEM MESSAGE
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
Quest Issued: Neutralize the Necropolis
The Duke of Blackstone has tasked you with entering the fortress in the heart of the inner city and dealing with whatever is wrong within its depths.
He has authorized you to use whatever means are necessary to complete your task and offered you anything you need to see it done.
WARNING: The manner in which you resolve this quest will have lasting consequences for the world of Eternus. Choose your path wisely.
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>
Difficulty: B+
Success: Variable
Failure: Exile from Blackstone, Other
Rewards: Various
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
Romulus read over the System prompt and carefully held back his grin. He swiped away the screen, offered the Duke his most polite smile, and cut a solemn bow for the nobleman’s benefit.
“Your Grace, I would be pleased to undertake this task for you.”
“That is very good to hear, Traveler,” the Duke said pleasedly.
“May I query the Traveler briefly, Your Grace?” Isolde said on the heels of the Duke’s words, while her gaze shifted toward Romulus.
Duke Argent frowned somewhat, but wordlessly motioned for Isolde to proceed.
“Traveler Romulus, you are new to these lands—and ostensibly uninformed of their plight and goings on. As such, I must wonder, what do you seek to gain from offering your aid so readily?” Isolde asked shrewdly, while her eyes narrowed somewhat in cold assessment. “While I mean no disrespect to your courage, I am not a woman inclined to believe in the simple charity of others, especially not esoteric and otherworldly warriors.”
Romulus noticed the Duke also looked interested in his answer when Isolde was done, and there was no mistaking the sharpness of the man’s gaze as he joined his daughter in sizing Romulus up. For all the Duke’s apparent goodwill, there was a steeliness to his eyes that told Romulus he’d have to be very cautious in dealing with the man—both now and in the future.
“There are admittedly many things I could think of as a reward for this task, Captain, Your Grace,” Romulus said calmly, while his mind raced through The Prince, The Rise and Fall of Rome, A Game of Thrones, and every fantasy novel he’d ever read in search of the proper response. With his increased Intelligence, it was a surprisingly manageable task. He needed something greedy enough to be believable, while also being reasonable. Selfishness would also be necessary, though he couldn’t afford to be disrespectful. Romulus had to really sell the ambition expected of an immortal.
His eyes turned toward Isolde, and a light bulb ignited in his mind.
“If I were to name my desire, however, it would be riches, servants, a place of power in Blackstone, Your Grace—” he addressed the Duke instead of Isolde to show ambition, and he did so with bold lack of fear of reprisal that only required a truly arrogant and selfish request to bring it home “—and the chance to pursue the hand of your daughter.”
Silence followed his statement for several beats, until Isolde’s cheeks rapidly reddened and she opened her mouth with furious eyes—no doubt ready to rip him apart for his impudence.
The Duke, however, beat her to it.
“A title, wealth, position, and a chance at my daughter’s hand in return for the resolution of whatever is amiss at the Fortress? Knowing, of course, that none of it will be yours unless you succeed.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Romulus agreed, hoping neither could hear his racing heart.
“Done!” the Duke said with a laugh that drew a stunned look from Isolde. “I like your boldness, Traveler Romulus. Such gall implies confidence to see the job through, and must be acknowledged! It gives me hope, in fact. I would be remiss not to agree to such generous terms.”
“Your Grace, I must protest—!” Isolde started, only to stop at the Duke’s raised hand.
“You must, but you will not, Captain. I have made my decision,” he said with flat finality, before turning back to Romulus. “Go, then, Traveler. See to your preparations and undertake your task. I shall eagerly await your success, Sir Romulus.”
Romulus bowed and tried to suppress his immense relief, partially in disbelief that his gamble had paid off. Asking for Isolde’s hand had seemed like something the truly arrogant or self-important men in many of the books he’d read might do… and for that reason alone, he knew, it was perfect. The Duke would have known those kinds of men and even women his entire life. He’d likely have been among their number.
At that moment, the Duke had likely seen Romulus as a potential threat.
It would have earned the Duke’s respect, and probably more than one future assassination attempt. He could worry about that later after he claimed the mantle of Dark Autarch.
“I shall endeavor to meet your noble expectations,” Romulus said as he bowed respectfully, and left his internal monologue for his own mind. “I shall see to my preparations, assuming your offer of aid in those preparations remains in place, Your Grace?”
“But of course!” the Duke said with a gesture of his hands. “Isolde will see you provisioned with whatsoever you require from our personal stores, within reason. I cannot bankrupt myself, you understand.”
“Of course, Your Grace. All I desire is some potions, a change of clothes, and a bag of holding if you have one. Some armor would be nice as well, though I understand if—”
“If that is all, Traveler, then it shall be no issue,” the Duke cut in with a mirthless laugh. “That is an elementary list of requirements. Isolde will see them provided.”
“You are most generous, Your Grace.”
The Duke nodded and made a simple dismissive gesture thereafter.
Romulus bowed his head, turned, and followed Isolde when she bowed stiffly and stomped toward the exit.
He had achieved the first step of gaining access to the Necropolis—now he just needed to lay claim to the gifts Lilith had left within it, and pass the Revenant-King’s tests.
A ping caught his attention, and he glanced at it silently.
Congratulations, you have levelled a skill!
Your [Intrigue] Skill is now Novice 5!
He grinned as he followed the Valkyrie-like blonde out of the throne room.
A new Skill, free gear, and free potions? It was a murderhobo’s dream come true.