Chapter 109: A Final Moment of Rest, Preparation, and Approach

Kaius lounged on a settee, made of finely lacquered wood that was engraved and embossed with solid gold inlay; it was long enough for him to lie at full extension. It was also probably more expensive than the entirety of everything in Three Fields village combined, with cloudy padding that seemed to cradle him from every direction. Blood, green and red both, seeped from his armour to soak into masterfully woven depictions of smithing and craftsmanship, permanently staining the brightly coloured threads.

In any other situation he might have felt mortified. Even if it was the Depths, ruining something that was clearly more expensive that he could fathom was not exactly something he relished. This was, however, one of over a dozen seats of similar quality in the sitting room, the fifth such sitting room they had found. On the first floor. That they had only explored a bare third of.

Artificial creation or not, seeing such extravagance on display irked him. Not insomuch in the quality and price of the furnishings, but in the bloody greed of it all. Even with a full clan, the place would feel empty.

It was a simple, needless, waste in his mind. After growing up in the Arboreal Sea, he could appreciate the desire for expensive comforts, but he simply couldn’t fathom the sheer accumulation of excess. Life was simple on the frontier, you used what you had, to the greatest extent possible. But you didn’t waste it. Nor horde it.

Even if he ever grew as rich as one must be to own such an estate, he truly couldn’t imagine ever owning one. It was opulence to the point of impracticality. What use was a dozen kitchens if you had to walk what felt like a league to eat?

No, he’d much prefer something small and cosy. A couple of seats that cost as much as a village would be more than enough for him.

He sighed, wriggling himself deeper into the embrace of the settee, before he rolled to the side and looked to where Porkchop was splayed out on his back on one of his own.

“How long until you get Persistent Survivor?” Kaius asked.

Porkchop twisted his head, hanging it over the side of his seat to meet his eyes. “It’s been what, a week since you got yours? Not much longer, maybe one or two more.”

“That’s not too bad,” Kaius said as he willingly slid sideways and kicked his blood soaked legs onto the settee to lie on his side. “What do we do to fill the time?”

“More food,” Porkchop responded immediately.

Kaius smiled, snorting a touch in amusement. “Besides that. We’re about to head into the biggest fight of our lives, so while a rest is important for us to be in peak condition, I don’t want to get even a little soft.”

Groaning at his response, Porkchop rolled over to look at him more directly. “Easy, we spend a few hours every day getting used to our bond in more brawls, and then we eat like kings when we get back. You could also always work on your spells, do you have any changes you want to make?”

Humming in thought, Kaius considered his hymns. Honestly, he was barely passable at High Lothian, all things considered. He might be able to tweak the spell some more, but he definitely couldn’t forge new spells whole cloth like his father could.

Which was a damn shame; some sort of fire or acid hymn would have been extremely useful against the ogre.

“I think I should probably stick to my original Arcane Bolt, if I’m being honest.” Kaius said after a moment’s consideration.

“Oh?” Porkchop asked, tilting his head quizzically. It made Kaius smile a little, the comfortable expression on his bond-brothers face completely at odds with fur that was drenched in viscera.

“Yeah, it was complete overkill against the regular depths-born, and even most Champions. With how expensive it was, it was a really bad option.” Kaius replied, thinking back on his first uses of his glyph where his spell had punched clean through a goblin only to carry on and crack the reinforced stone of a manor across the street. “The Guardian, on the other hand, is supposed to be up to twice the layer cap, at least for the first five layers. It could be level forty, and it’s a big motherfucker at that. I want the spell power to do some real damage, even if just to disable a joint.”

“You’d know,” Porkchop said with a shrug. “You’re the spellcaster after all.”

Porkchop rolled off of his plush and richly embroidered seat, drawing Kaius’s eyes away from the fresco set into the ceiling of a warrior crushing an insectile beast with a warhammer. Where Porkchop had been lying, a smear of green and red was permanently soaked into the soft fabrics.

“Come on then, as fun as it is to wreck these couches, the blood in my fur and barding is starting to dry.” Porkchop said, shaking his body and sending half-congealed droplets of blood and shredded goblin meat showering across the room.

Kaius recoiled, twisting his head away, but not fast enough to stop a droplet of congealed blood from flying into his mouth.

He retched, spitting out the irontasting globule that tainted his mouth. “Fucking gross!” he yelled, jumping out of the seat. “That’s it, we’re getting clean.”

He strode out the room, stopping at the wide bay doors that opened up into a long hall lined with paintings and side tables covered in a dizzying array of ornaments. Looking back to Porkchop, he found his bond-brother shooting him a cheeky grin.

“You coming?” He asked, rolling his eyes at Porkchop’s antics, who promptly shot after him.

Unfortunately, getting clean wouldn’t be an immediate thing. They had yet to find one of the wet-rooms that the dwarves liked to use to bathe, and with how large the estate was, it would be a considerable search to find one.

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In the end, much to Kaius’s distaste, it took them the better part of a half hour of walking through halls and peaking through doors before they found one.

….

Kaius stood at the base of the monolithic staircase that was cut into the wall of the fortress-city’s final layer. At its peak he would find his destiny, the goal he and Porkchop had been working towards for over a year now.