Chapter 167: Breakfast Invitations

    When we’d approached the portal we were knives out and ready for a fight. We had several strategies mapped out depending on what we found on the other side, ranging from a full dump of our most aggressive skills to a heroic version of run the fuck away.

    We appeared in a room of rough-hewn stone and mortar, the ceiling supported by pillars ascending into archways. About 20 feet in front of us was a 5-person team of level 15 Littan Delvers, full gold. Behind them was a reinforced dark-iron door and both it and the walls screamed with magic at my Mystical senses. I only had a split second to take in the weaves and make an educated guess as to what they did, but reinforcement was a safe bet, possibly some magic suppression as well. Dark iron absorbed mana, so the chamber being designed for containment wasn’t a stretch.

    Portaling into a trap designed for our capture was number 2 on our list of potential outcomes, and I’d already begun mana shaping the Pocket Closet entrance, even as I appraised the team of Littans inside the chamber with us. If that failed, we had the Get Out of Cage Free card that could theoretically zip us away. Unless one of these folks was secretly a sticky-fingered avatar, I assumed the item would be more effective than it had been the last time I’d tried to use it.

    The portal brought us in one at a time, but we’d coordinated to touch its surface rapidly and in a specific order. From the time I showed up as the team’s point man to when Etja came through last, it was less than a second. That was more than enough time for a level 15 Delver to respond, but the crew across from us made no move to attack.

    In fact, the Littans looked very ill-prepared for a fight.

    We were heavily armed and armored, with buffs up, auras blasting, potions running through our veins, and a psychic link already established through Grotto. The Littans, on the other hand, looked like they were about to attend a formal dinner. They wore what appeared to be full dress uniforms, perfectly pressed, immaculately fitted, with a few well-polished medals and boots so clean they looked more likely to run an NA meeting than a mile.

    I had to imagine that we looked like absolute shit in comparison. We’d literally been using a magic cleaning marble in place of baths for months, and the only pieces of our gear that had gotten any real maintenance were the things that could miraculously repair themselves.

    I waited a beat as I mulled over whether to send the mental command to make a full retreat. By the time everyone had appeared and the Littan in front had cleared her throat, the entrance to the Closet was already opening.

    The woman’s dark eyes flicked to the portal and her whiskers twitched, but she stilled her reaction once she realized it wasn’t an attack.

    “Fortune’s Folly,” she said, giving us a formal bow. “I am Captain Pio of Connas. It is my pleasure to welcome you back from what has been, so far as we can tell, the longest Delve ever recorded.”

    As she spoke, I focused my Sight on the Littan group, trying to see if they had any equipment hidden by illusions or invisibility. I was done by the time she finished, but I hadn’t found anything nefarious.

    “Thanks,” I said. “As I’m sure you can understand, we’re eager to return home.”

    Captain Pio glanced at the portal again and gave me a shallow nod.

    “I can only imagine,” she said. “My longest Delve was only 3 days, and I could not wait to sleep in my own bed again afterward.” She held out a hand and one of the Littans behind her handed her two envelopes. She held up the first envelope as if to show it was as ordinary as it appeared. “Duchess Ruiz and General Connatis would like to extend an invitation to your party. Much has changed since you left, and it is thought that a meeting would be best to clear up any past misunderstandings.”

    She held the envelope out toward me, but I kept my eyes fixed on her group. Seeing that I wasn’t going to approach, she released the envelope and it floated over to me. It stopped 2 feet away, and I kept my shield up in case it might explode or something worse. A few seconds went by, and it got a little awkward as everyone stood and stared at one another. This dragged on longer than it probably should have, since by the time I’d decided to accept the letter, I’d also realized I had no free hands with which to do so. Etja took the initiative, stepping forward and snagging it from the air. She was still possessed of an unoccupied limb despite holding both her staff and wand.

    The woman then held up the second envelope, this time looking around and searching the room.

    “Inquisitor Vyxmeldo’a,” she said confidently, despite the loson being nowhere in sight. If this were a trap, they really should have installed better lighting. “There has been an armistice between Litta and Eschendur for some time. The conflict between us began due to aggression against Littan citizens in the Eschen Gap, but the existence of the Operator has given the duchess reason to reevaluate. If these crimes against the empire were committed by an unaligned third party, then your exposure of that entity during your efforts to reach this portal has done a great service to both of our nations.”

    “And yet you are still here,” said Nuralie, stepping from nowhere beside me. Her bow was drawn and not quite aiming at the woman. “Unless you discovered how to move a Delve portal, we are still in Eschendur.”

    “This forward operating base has been one condition of the armistice,” said the Littan. “It has served as a launching point for the ongoing investigation into the entity.” The woman raised the envelope again. “The duchess has penned this request for further discussion toward a final resolution of the conflict with the Zenithars. Her Grace would be honored for you to deliver the letter on her behalf, and would view it as both a favor and an act of goodwill.”

    There was a lot of subtext to the captain’s words, which were classic diplomatic speech. She was painting a picture of past and present events in the most flattering light, not just for the Littans, but for us as well.

    First, our party was being invited to sit down with the two leaders of the Littan invasion to clear up ‘misunderstandings’. I assumed these ‘misunderstandings’ included our participation in the wholesale slaughter of a single-digit percentage of the entire Littan Delver population. It might also include a disavowment of any ‘overzealous officers’ involved in the decision to put a ballista bolt through my skull. It could just as easily be an invitation to dig ourselves a hole through self-incrimination. If we decided to accept such a meeting it would need to be handled carefully.

    The personal request to Nuralie was more complex. If the two countries currently had an armistice, then they certainly had some lines of communication open. I doubted the Littans needed Nuralie to personally deliver a letter, so this was probably part of some political gamesmanship.

    The officer had reduced the war between their nations to a misallocation of culpability. They’d thought the Eschens had attacked their forces in the Gap when the Operator was the one who’d actually executed those men and women. It sounded like the duchess thought the whole thing was one big oopsie that they were willing to walk back. Of course, ‘further discussions’ were far from any sort of commitment, and in reality, the deaths in the Gap were a pretense for the Littans to get their hands on Eschendur’s Madrin deposits and alchemical resources. I doubted the resolution would be so simple.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Xim walked back into the den carrying two wine glasses and two bottles of red, shoulder slumped.

    “I agree, Etja,” she said, filling a glass and handing it to Nuralie. “I need about 6 months to decompress before diving into international politics.” Nuralie pulled out a vial of her shitfaced potion, tapped two drops into it, then handed the glass back to Xim.

    “Is that what she said?” I asked.

    “Mmmfhrmmph,” said Etja.

    Xim handed Nuralie another full glass. Nuralie tapped two more drops, then handed that one back to Xim as well. The cleric took a deep pull from the first, then squeezed into the large armchair next to Nuralie. Nuralie raised an eyeridge but scooted to accommodate her.

    “Be prepared,” said Varrin, tugging off a pauldron. “Today, one of our enemies made overtures of peace. Tomorrow, distant allies will call us their boon companions. The day after, the world will be at our door. Every stranger will become a friend, and every friend will be owed a favor.”

    “And they will stab us in the back if the blood will warm their hands,” said Nuralie.

    “Geez, a couple of cynics over here,” I said. “I expect at least one powerful figure to declare war on us out in the open.”

    Xim drained the rest of her wine.

    “Glass can’t be half full if it’s empty,” she said. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but she was already sipping on her second.

    Etja unburied her face and looked up at me with misty eyes.

    “Shower,” she said. “Where is it? It’s been a year.”

    “More like 4 months subjectively,” said Nuralie.

    I felt a sudden swell of excitement.

    “What if I have something better than a shower?” I said. Etja propped herself up onto her elbows.

    “Like a bath?” she asked, hope writ clear on her features.

    “Better than even a bath.”

    Etja floated off of the couch, hovering toward me.

    “You have a hot tub?” She looked like she might cry.

    “No. I mean, yes I have a hot tub, but I also have something better than a hot tub.”

    Etja floated upright and landed, then grabbed me by the shoulders.

    “Just. Tell me,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

    I took her shoulders as well, looked her in the eye, and revealed the passion project I’d finished more than a year before, but had never been able to use.

    “It’s called a Japanese hot spring.”