Chương 589: Chapter Five Hundred and Seventy-Three - Dark Knights of the Soul

I licked my lips. They'd gone a little dry as I spoke to the knight.

"Um... okay," I said.

"Okay." The knight stared, and I only just caught the reflection of light off of his eyes within his helmet.

"Is that all? Will you leave us, then?"

"No," I said.

"At least, not yet? We don't want to fight, and you don't seem to want to fight either, right? Not if it won't help anything. We both want what's best for the dungeon core, it would really help if you could let us examine it?"

"Broccoli," Amaryllis hissed.

"What?" I whispered back.

"We can't fix the problem if we can't see it. And I'd rather not fight the knights all the way to the core. If we can be guided to it, then that's all for the best, no?" The knight stared for a very long time. I saw his hands tighten an loosen on the hilt of his sword.

"You wish for us to so casually guide you to our inner sanctum?" he asked.

"Yeah, exactly," I said with a quick nod. I gestured around at the room at large, with its pillars and murals and total lack of lighting.

"This is nice, but we can't exactly figure out what's wrong from here, can we? And maybe you can tell us about these other black knights? The ones that caused all of this in the first place?" The knight lowered his head, staring at the ground just before him almost as if in prayer.

"There is no speaking to our heart any longer. It provides no guidance. Perhaps that is a greater loss than the Solace we once had. But in the absence of guidance perhaps there is no harm in acquiescing?"

"I can't believe this might actually work," Amaryllis muttered.

"Cool!" I cheered. The knight raised his head and stared. I think my enthusiasm was throwing him off a little, so I reached into my head and turned the enthusiasm knob down a notch or three.

"Sorry, Mister... Sir Knight," I said. He nodded, then looked over our group.

"Stow your weapons. I swear on what honour I have left that you will not be harmed." It took a moment, but my friends eventually sheathed their weapons. I was pretty sure that the way that Bastion was standing, with his hand casually on his hilt, meant that he could pull his sword out faster than I could blink, and he did seem to be placing himself between the knight and the rest of us, but that was just common sense, probably.

The knight gestured to the two soldiers behind him, and they took off back into the deeper parts of the dungeon, then he sheathed his own sword and spun before walking off. I jogged to catch up, but made sure to stay a bit behind.

"So, uh, thank you for this. I appreciate it."

"If you can return our Solace to us the way it was stolen, then it will be worth it," he replied.

"I hope so. But I can't make promises like that. I can promise that I'll do my best." He turned his head just a little, probably to eye me from the corner of his visor.

"Your words carry much honour. I hope your actions match." The room he led us into was a long corridor. There were a few alcoves along the walls with armoured suits within. To each side, paths branched off, often leading into stone-walled rooms that held bunks and living quarters. They were on the cramped side, but despite how very militaristic it looked, the spaces still seemed comfy and lived-in.

There were beds with blankets, some chairs next to unlit hearths and old chests tucked into the corner, probably filled with some soldier's random belongings. There were more soldiers here. They sat in their rooms, or were hanging out in the cramped kitchen and dining area we passed. They seemed entirely without energy. People in full armour just... slumped over.

I think under normal circumstances, someone walking through this part of the dungeon would be attacked from all sides, the soldiers dropping what they did to rush to the defence, only... now there was nothing. The knight stopped at the end of the corridor, placing one gauntleted hand against a heavy wooden door. The hinges creaked as he pushed it open. On the other side there was an open courtyard, though unlike the space at the front of the fortress, this was more... utilitarian?

There was a stable to one side, small, with only enough room for maybe three horses, and to the other was an unenclosed forge. I sniffed at the air, then wrinkled my nose. It smelled like mouldy manure here. Before I could think to complain, though, my attention was brought to the side where two people were fighting. Knights, both of them. They were swinging at each other with gauntletted fists, each hit rattling the armour they wore while a half-dozen others, knights and soldiers, watched and cheered them on.

Or... no, actually, they didn't. The watchers were just staring. It felt like they should have been cheering. It was sport, probably, or a spar, and they were definitely watching, only they were either leaning on one of the low fences dividing the space or on their own polearms, all while staring listlessly. Stolen novel; please report. The two knights on the ground rolled over, then one of them kicked the other off, and they both slowly climbed to their feet. They looked exhausted, and quite dirty.

Then the entire group caught sight of us, and stood a little straighter.

"What's this?" one of the knights asked. He seemed a little shorter than the others, but his armour had a cleaner, better-fitting look to it, and his helm had a long, rather sad looking plume sticking out of it. The knight accompanying us continued to walk, though his pace did slow.

"These are... visitors," he replied.

"Invaders, more like," the commander said. I didn't know if that was his proper rank, but he seemed important that way.

"We're not!" I said, quickly.

"I mean... we're probably not? I suppose technically we are, but we're mostly not, is what I'm trying to say." Caprica cleared her throat loudly, pulling attention onto herself.

"What my erstwhile friend here means to say is that we are not 'invaders;' we are a group of proud and capable explorers, sent here to discover what ails your noble dungeon home and repair it if we are so capable." The knight-commander gripped the sword at his hip.

"The last ones to come here said something similar," he said.

"They caused some manner of trouble," Desiree said, dragging the commander's attention onto herself.

"They did something to your humble home, did they not? The World has many thousands of dungeons. If there are villains marauding across the world and corrupting these spaces, then is it not our duty as citizens of the World to do what we may to guard its gifts; its dungeons?"

"And what do you expect to learn?" the commander asked.

"Anything," Caprica said.

"Your fellow knight here has related some of what happened, but we haven't pieced the entire story together yet. Can you help us?" The commander paused, then shifted.

"They wore black. There were three of them. Two seemed knightly in garb and demeanor."

"And the third?" Caprica asked.

"Wore armour, though not of the same sort. His face was uncovered. A man, human, of average height and build. He seemed quite self-assured. They all did, and they had the power to back their self-confidence."

"Was that the one who did something to your dungeon?" Caprica asked.

"Perhaps. I was not witness to the sealing. Though I felt it, the moment Solace was lost, the moment we were disconnected from our purpose."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"That you were hurt that way, I mean. We already promised that we'd do what we could to help. I've fixed a few other dungeons that were hurt before, but this seems very different." The commander hummed, then looked up to the knight leading us.

"Bring them to the core," he said.

"You, and you, escort them as well."

"The more the merrier!" I said. My good cheer bounced off of them like an arrow plinking off their plate armour, but I didn't think it was wasted.

"Yes, sir," the knight replied. He turned and resumed his march, and the rest of the courtyard slowly settled back into its strange, listless rhythm. The sparring knights went back to their half-hearted scuffle, metal clanking without much energy behind it while two of the onlookers peeled off to follow us. The commander stared at us, and for a moment, I thought he'd follow, but it looked like that would take too much energy. We followed our guide across the packed dirt and past the stable.

The forge nearby was cold, its coals grey and dead, a few unfinished weapons resting on the anvil like they had simply been forgotten. A stone stairway led down from the far side of the courtyard, narrow and steep. The air grew cooler as we descended, the smell of manure fading to be replaced by the scent of damp stone and old water. At the bottom, the corridor widened into something older than the rest of the fortress.

The walls were bare stone, though old tapestries hung on them, the art stretched out and hard to see through the mold clinging to them. A heavy door stood at the end, marked only by faint, weathered runes that glowed just enough to show they were still working. The corridor continued on toward the exit portal, but the knight didn't head that way, he instead placed a gauntleted hand against the stone next to the door. The runes brightened, and the door opened with a low, grinding sound.

The Core chamber was nothing like the grand halls above. It was wide and circular, with smooth stone walls and a low ceiling that made the space feel ancient and solemn. Rather than a floor, a pool of still water stretched across the room, perfectly calm, reflecting the ceiling like a dark mirror. A narrow stone path led across the surface to a raised platform at the center. On that platform stood the core.