This Quest is Bullshit - Chapter 144

Chapter 144 - Does Anyone Speak Burendian?

A cloud of dust billowed through the air as Eve first step foot down the leftward passage, the prevalence of the stuff implying this particular suite had contained somehow more decaying matter than others, either in terms of wooden furniture or a true excess of fabric and cushions. Knowing royalty, Eve assumed the latter.

She and Preston both coughed and blinked through the airborne particles while Wes happily took advantage of his clown mask to avoid such annoyances. Given Art’s presence, the fire mage could’ve readily burned the dust out of the air, but he was understandably not in the mood for liberal use of flame, especially considering that this particular circumstance allowed him and his clown mask some small revenge for Eve’s incessant teasing.

After passing through the antechamber where the bodyguard construct had certainly been waiting, the party stepped into a wide open bedchamber only to find it lacking a bed. The other almost familiar trappings of a palatial suite were present. A breakfast table, a sitting area, two brilliantly-preserved wardrobes, and a flameless enchanted hearth all decorated the dusty space, but there was no bed.

There was a crib.

Even beneath the layer of dust that’d once been bedding and pillows and blankets, the ornately crafted metal structure glimmered gold in the light of the enchantments along the floor. Eve cracked a grin.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about! Gold—the most classic of loot.”

Preston snorted. “Don’t get too excited; it’s not pure gold. You know gold is a terrible building material.”

“Sure,” Eve said, “but maybe not for the Burendians. For all we know, they had some ancient magical metallurgical techniques to make soft metals function for furniture.” With absolutely unwarranted confidence, she strode across the suite to the crib, casually grabbing a piece and snapping it off. Sure enough, the gold was only a thin leaf over what seemed to be cast iron.

“Welp, so much for that.” With a sigh, Eve tossed the broken-off bar over her shoulder. It landed with a clang.

“I’m counting that a good sign,” Wes said. “Pure or otherwise, if they’ve got their cradle coated in gold, there’s gotta be more valuables around here.”

“Probably not here,” Preston countered. “Unless you think we’ll find an Ar-iron baby rattle or whatever. Royal or otherwise, babies don’t generally wear jewelry or enchanted gear.”

Despite nodding in agreement, the party still took the time to perform a cursory search of the nursery. Once they’d opened every drawer and confirmed whatever clothes had once filled the wardrobes had long turned to dust, they made their exit, trying not to think about how the room’s former occupant had met his or her demise with the rest of the Burendians.

The central suite was by far the largest, including the empty frame of massive four-poster bed, a washroom, walk-in closet, and two attached office spaces. It was to one of those latter that Eve first made her way.

Inside she found a pile of metal odds and ends, small statues and other decorative objects, all sitting in a heap of dust along the back wall. Eve could only assume there had once been a wooden shelf displaying the collection, but that it hadn’t been enchanted against the ravages of time.

The desk, luckily, had.

Mana trailed up from the floor through the four wooden legs of the desk in a dozen intricate patterns, simultaneously enhancing the piece and decorating it glimmering light. The tabletop was no different, lighting the assortment of papers from beneath.

Eve shuffled through the various budget reports and personal letters, shoulders slumping more and more as she failed to find any information of value. She didn’t care that the latest scouting report placed the enemy precisely three days and seven hours away, she needed to know what this ‘enemy’ actually was. The correspondence on the desk didn’t deign to tell her.

It was only as she shoved aside what seemed to be a particularly racy letter from the king to his wife—that one she’d read fully—that Eve’s hand bumped against something distinctly not paper-like in the pile. A bit of digging later, and it revealed itself.

Ar-iron Letter Opener
Rarity: Mythic

Eve blinked the notification away in shock, taking a breath and re-Appraising the find just to be sure.

Ar-iron Letter Opener
Rarity: Mythic

A grin stretched across her face. “Now that’s more like it.” Putting aside the absolute absurdity of using precious Ar-iron for a gods-damned letter opener, Eve looked over her first piece of loot in what had been a particularly unexciting dungeon thus far.

The short and dull blade itself—once cleared of the dust coating it—shined with a brightness far beyond mundane iron, smooth and pure enough that Eve could see her reflection in it. Intricate designs decorated the handle, all built to frame the seal at its base.

The seal itself depicted a three-tipped crown sitting atop a web of what could only be leylines, stretching out in all directions to eventually form the decorations on the rest of the hilt. Eve could think of no better sigil for the ruler of nation built upon the leylines. Better yet, the seal further supported the theory that this particular ruin sat atop not a single line, but a point where two or more met.

Eve rather liked it.

Not even trying to wipe the smirk from her face, she stashed the letter opener into her bag. Sure, Ar-iron was the most common of the Ar-metals, but such a find would still fetch a fair bit of gold back in town. Even more enticing was the promise its presence implied. If the Burendian royalty had used Ar-iron for something as mundane as this, what other bits of excessive wealth might remain for the party to uncover? If Ar-silver weren’t too obscenely heavy for practical use, would there have been an Ar-silver letter opener instead?

The only solution Eve could come to was that she desperately wanted to find the royal vault.

Eve ventured on from the office space to find Wes on his hands and knees searching for another floor safe, only to flinch and hit the back of his head against the bed frame as Eve walked up behind him.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“Nothing here,” he groaned, rubbing the impact site. “You?”

“Ar-iron letter opener. Nothing crazy, but worth a pretty penny and carries the implication there’ll be more valuables sitting around.”

“About that…” Preston called from another room. He strode in, holding a brilliantly wrought silver jewelry box with multiple empty sockets across its surface. When he reached the others, he flipped open the lid, revealing its lack of contents. “I think someone’s already been here.”

Eve raised an eyebrow. “Alex?”

“Not unless she came through a decade ago,” Preston said, “or has some kind of dust magic now. I mean, you saw yourself, everything coated. Not to mention the sentries were intact, and Alex definitely doesn’t have a way past them without violence.”

“But somebody cleared out the valuables,” Wes reasoned. “Jewelry, gems from that box, whatever else might’ve been lying around.”

Eve sighed, holding up the letter opener. “I found this buried in papers. Either whoever came through here didn’t notice it or figured it wasn’t worth taking.”

Preston snorted. “They’d have to be crazy wealthy for that not to be worth taking.”

“Anyway,” Wes said, “other than Eve’s new desk ornament, this suite looks like a bust. On to the next one?”

“Yeah, let’s check it out,” Eve said. “Maybe our mystery looter only bothered with the main suite. Or maybe there’s more they missed. I just hope they weren’t able to get into the vault. I’m gonna be pissed if there’s nothing valuable down here.”

Preston blinked. “What makes you think we’ll be able to get into the vault?”

“Please,” Eve scoffed. “I’m practically built for breaking into Burendian ruins.”

“Fair point.”

Together the party moved on to the suite on the right of the burnt sitting room, finding it to some degree a combination of the two they’d seen thus far. The layout and size of the space were a mirror image of the nursery, though the furnishings were closer to those of the king and queen’s suite.

The massive bed had long rotted to little more than a metal skeleton, the once-plush upholstery had turned to dust, and nothing of value made itself apparent.

This time, however, the wardrobe was enchanted.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Eve said as she stared across the room at the faint white lines traveling up the wooden closet. “I guess somebody cared a lot about their clothes?”

Sounds like someone we know! Art sent.

“It’s called fashion,” Preston said, patronizingly patting the trellac on the head. “And it’s important.”

“Sure it is,” Wes muttered.

“Says the man in a clown mask.”

“Okay, you’ve got me there.”

Eve ignored their back-and-forth to actually approach the wardrobe and tug on the doors. They didn’t budge. With a sigh, she extended her will and sucked the Mana from the enchantments binding them, forcing the wardrobe open with click. “Oh,” she breathed as she gazed at its contents, “that explains it.”

“What explains it?” Preston asked.

Eve gestured up to the collection of frilly dresses, each perhaps two sizes too big to fit Art. “We’re dealing with a preteen.”

“Any jewelry or enchanted things?” Wes asked. “If a princess lived here, she had to have had some stuff.”

“Just this,” Eve said, reaching into the base of the wardrobe to withdraw a leather-bound book. She read the text on the front.

Do Not Read!!!!!!

Preston blinked. “Great. You found a little girl’s diary. The treasure of the century.”

Eve shrugged. “There might be useful information in here. All the documents I could find were way too specific to be helpful. This might be the perfect level of vague.”

Wes pulled back the cover to reveal the handwritten text inside. Not a single letter looked remotely familiar. “So… um…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Does anyone speak Burendian?”

Eve smacked him on the shoulder. “We all speak Burendian. They spoke the same language we do. Weren’t you the one who found the letter that led us here?”

“Right.” Wes blushed beneath his mask. “Then if this isn’t Burendian, what language is it?”

Eve shrugged. “Probably some kind of code. You know how kids can get about diaries.”

“So its useless, then. On to the next room.”

“I’m gonna hold onto it,” Eve said, slipping the diary into her pack. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find somebody who can decode it. It was written by some kid. Unless little princess whoever had training in this kind of stuff, it can’t be that complex.”

“That sounds like a lot of effort to invade someone’s privacy,” Preston commented.

“She been dead for a thousand years,” Eve countered. “I don’t think she cares at this point. Besides, I really get the feeling there’ll be important info in here.”

Wes shrugged. “Whatever gets your goat, I guess.”

“No thanks, I’ve had enough experience with goats.” Eve smiled. “Anyway, before we check up on Lumy and Reginald and move on to finding the vault and throne room, we should take one last look around and confirm there isn’t anything else here.”

There wasn’t.

The party sifted through the same mounds of dust, examined the same decayed furniture, bumped heads against the same bed frames searching for floor safes. Whoever had been there before them had been damned thorough. Eve at least held out hope the two items their predecessor hadn’t bothered taking would still prove valuable.

So it was with a mixture of disappointment and trepidatious hope in their hearts that the adventurers left the suites behind, passed through the burnt sitting room, and re-traversed the long hallway to return to the waiting Reginald and Lumy. One door down, two to go.

And in all likelihood, one of them had Alex behind it.

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