Chapter 55: Bureaucratic Bullshit

***Mark Wyrd***

“Say that again,” Father said, his voice crashing down on Mark and forcing him to his knees.

Frederick Wyrd wore a vibrant blue silk robe concealing his Torso Relic, as well as arm-length black leather gloves, concealing his Rings.

The only thing Mark saw on top of his head was a circlet with a drop of blood-colored gemstone in the center, reminding him of the one he’d lost in the swamps of the 4^th floor.

This one was likely far more powerful.

The lord of the Wyrd house could be fully armed for battle, and no one would ever know until they exploded in a shower of viscera.

In his gloved hand, Father was twirling an unfamiliar rod and tapping it on his knee unconsciously. It was an oddly ornate bone rod seemingly cut from a femur, about a foot and a half in length with ornate gold caps with gem inlay.

Mark had never seen in before in his life, and that made him nervous.

“The destruction of Oilton was perpetrated by a Party that serves the church of Granesh.” Mark lied, keeping his face downturned.

“That’s preposterous. We’ve had an excellent relationship with them for decades.”

“One of them carried this.” Mark said, pulling the Sacrifice out of it’s bag, artfully singed to sell the lie.

Father frowned, drumming on his knee with the rod before going still.

“Is that…”

“A sacrifice from a Saint of the church. One of their members carried it.”

“Ridiculous. The church gives their members Sacrifices at the time and place they wish for their members to use them. They do not let them ‘carry them around’ until they have reached the appropriate level.” Father said, tapping his knee with increased fervor.

“Unless…” Frederick Wyrd thumbed his chin, expression thoughtful for a moment before he glanced back up at Mark. “Continue.”

“The Tangled had already been dispatched by the operatives by the time we arrived,” Mark said, mixing a bit of realism into the story.

“They ambushed us in the throne room, and dispatched the others before I had the chance to drive them back. When they realized they would lose, they detonated the primary oil line that travelled under the castle.”

“Uh huh. And where are your Relics?”

“One of them was a Rogue archetype with an Ability that allowed them to remove Relics without my knowledge. I nearly died.” More lies cloaked in truth.

“…Right. You realize that an Ability that allows one to steal Relics is very rare and it would be unusual that they would send an operative with this Ability on a suicide mission?” Father asked, tapping the rod against his knee.

“I do not speculate on the reasons,” Mark said, head lowered. “I only tell you what I saw and wait for your decision.”

“Lies and deceit!” Father said, his expression murderous, causing Mark to break into a cold sweat.

He said nothing.

“The Church of Granesh is always playing these games, thinking they can nudge me off my path and send a tasty treat my direction to appease me. Obviously, they send the rogue to his death before he turned this ability against his superiors, and they sent the Sacrifice with him as a gift to me, to quell my wrath at the loss of such valuable land.”

Mark didn’t sigh as his father’s paranoia filled in the details on its own. That would be a mistake.

Father descended from his throne and snatched the mummified hand out of Mark’s hand, staring at it as he walked back up the staircase.

“But they’ve made a grievous mistake. They’ve given me the exact thing I needed to become unstoppable, and I won’t forget to ‘thank’ them for it.”

“…U-Unstoppable?” Mark asked, unable to hide the hitch in his voice.

The Sacrifice disappeared in a flash of light, as his father used an Upgrade slot.

On what, Mark had no clue, but the malicious glee in his father’s eyes was all he needed to see to feel a wave of dread and pray it wasn’t directed at him.

“Julius,” Father called, getting the attention of one of the many servants standing by to tend to any of their Lord’s needs.

“Yes, sire?”

“Let’s rearrange my schedule a bit. Bring the prisoner in.”

The servant bowed deeply, then scurried off at top speed, seemingly gliding across the opulent floor of the castle.

Mark spent a long, silent minute contemplating ‘unstoppable’, until the prisoner arrived. He was a rather large man with brown hair and a flat face, his hands tied behind his back.

Father motioned for Mark to step aside to join the courtiers, and the prisoner took center stage.

“Name?” Father asked.

“Eat a dick.” the rough man spat.

“So, Mr. Dick, you stand accused of trying to steal my property, how do you plead?”

“Asshole.”

“Indeed.” Father mused, rubbing his chin and drumming his knee with the bone rod.

“I tell you what, Mr. Dick. Aside from costing me a little extra money, your poorly executed attempt at robbery had basically no effect. As the kids say, ‘no harm, no foul.’ That’s why I’m willing to give you clemency.”

Frederick Wyrd’s expression turned icy cold.

“Kneel, and tell me who hired you to steal my property. And you will go free. Alive, and unharmed.”

The rope binding the bandit’s wrists together exploded outward before whipping through the air towards his father, followed by the bandit, wielding a stiffened length of rope like a shiv.

“Your mother hired m-.” With no sign of an attack being launched, the bandit exploded, showering Mark and the onlookers in viscera.

Mark muscled down a flinch, but many of the other courtiers were unprepared for the sudden violence, and many took several steps back, desperately wiped blood out of their eyes, hyperventilated, wretched, or simply turned to run away.

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The guards were so agog that they didn’t bother to stop them.

“…AAAHH, by the gods, that works better than I thought it would,” Father said, closing his eyes and relaxing back into his throne.

Mark glanced back up from the bloody mess and paused in horror.

His father looked…younger.

Father’s blue eyes snapped back open and he directed his gaze back down at Mark.

“Yes. Unstoppable. For all your bumbling and half-truths, you’ve done well, Mark. Pick yourself out some new Relics from the vault, and feel free to visit Amanda. I will call you when I have decided your next assignment. Dismissed.”

Damn it, William, how is this a positive outcome!?

Mark frowned.

I suppose it means that the church will have to intervene, if nothing else.

Mark was now fully committed to the gambit of playing the church against his father, which meant he needed to find a way to discretely inform them of his father’s new stolen power.

Amanda and I are under watch. I need someone to pass the message who will believe, is interested in setting the two factions against each other…and isn’t affiliated with me…

Mark’s eye twitched.

He’s probably still on the Fifth Floor. That one takes some time.

*** William Oh ***

“How long?” Will asked, hoping he’d misheard her.

“About two months for your Party to reach the front of the queue.” Thea said.

“Buuh…” Will was at a loss for words.

“Only a handful of kaiju spawn each month, and a significant fraction of them spawn close enough to Akul that the baron has to kill them immediately or risk loss of life and property. The spawning locations outside the city for people who wish to grind average about one to three kaiju per month. Massive armies of Climbers and mercenaries gather to fight them.

“These armies are so large that they require a certain level of organization in order to prevent serious mishaps due to overcrowding. Hence the queue. I’ve had your Party signed up since I arrived here a month ago, so be grateful, it could’ve been a three month wait.”

“Are there any…faster alternatives?” Will asked, unable to stop thinking about Brianna being tortured into a Tangled on the seventh floor.

“Well, you could attempt a Key site. The ones on the fifth floor aren’t particularly difficult, but you would be dropping into the sixth floor at a disadvantage.

Three levels behind where we need to be.