Chương 28: Chapter 27: Heir

"Fuck," Tessa breathed. Rellen stared ahead, his face gone pale. The silence stretched between them. Then he sighed—a long, defeated sound—and let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk.

"Fuck," she said again, louder this time. She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging.

"Rellen. Rellen, what are we going to do? A dungeon appeared in the capital!" Her voice pitched higher with each word, panic clawing at her throat. This was it. This was how she died. In a dungeon, in a safe house that wasn't safe at all.

"Tessa." Rellen's voice was surprisingly calm. He turned to look at her, covering her hand with his own.

"Tessa, breathe. Everything is fine. We planned for this." Her frantic pulling stopped. She stared at him.

"... Huh?" He winced, his expression turning apologetic.

"We thought something like this would be possible," he admitted.

"Given the pattern, the proximity to the cubes, the—" He gestured vaguely.

"All of it."

"What's the plan?" She demanded, her voice still tight with panic.

"What do we do?"

"The people up there," he said, still using that maddeningly calm tone, "they know what to look for. They know the cube's appearance and that it might be hidden in a building or crevice. They'll find it and bring it here."

"Why here?!" Tessa's voice cracked. Rellen's mouth curved into a slight smile, though it looked strained.

"Because no one knows how to close the dungeon with the cube but you."

"What—no!" She pulled away from him entirely, her hands coming up in a warding gesture.

"No, it was super easy after playing with it for a bit! Anyone could do it! Literally anyone! You just—you twist it and there's a clicking sound and—""Tessa." He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

"That's not a risk we want to take. Not when we could make it worse. Not when we have someone here who's successfully closed two dungeons before."

"Oh damn," she whispered. She buried her face in her hands, and a high-pitched noise escaped her throat, something between a whine and a scream, muffled by her palms. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening. She'd just gotten rid of the cubes. She'd just been promised benefits. And now she was in another dungeon, expected to close it like some kind of expert, when really she'd just been fumbling around. The high-pitched noise continued, rising in pitch and desperation.

"Tessa," Rellen tried again, his hand hovering near her shoulder but not quite touching.

"Tess, you need to breathe—""I can't do this again," she mumbled into her hands, her voice muffled and broken.

"I can't. I just—I barely survived the last two times. And now there's one here, and everyone's listening, and the Emperor knows my name —" Her voice dissolved into another incoherent noise of distress. Rellen sat beside her, looking torn between concern and helplessness. His hand finally settled on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"You're not alone this time," he said quietly.

"That has to count for something." She just made another noise into her hands. It did not, in fact, count for much of anything at all. Rellen's helplessness seemed to grow with each passing second of her muffled distress. Finally, he grabbed her shoulder and shook it slightly, his voice taking on a note of exasperation.

"Please, just breathe, alright?" Tessa's head snapped up, her hands falling away from her face.

"I am allowed my moment of panic," she snarked back.

"A dungeon just appeared in the capital. While we're sitting in it. That seems like a reasonable time to panic, actually!" Rellen's stern expression crumbled immediately. A helpless smile tugged at his lips, and he patted her shoulder awkwardly, like he was trying to comfort a spooked beast and wasn't sure how.

"You're right," he conceded.

"You're absolutely right." She glared at him, but some of the fight drained out of her. She slumped back against the wall, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as if it might offer protection against dungeons and monsters and imperial expectations.

"If it makes you any happier," he continued, clearly trying to salvage the situation, "I requested a heavy hitter to be involved in the operation. They should be able to take down any monster that's been smuggled in." She turned to stare at him, her eyes going wide with renewed terror.

"You expect monsters to be smuggled in?" Rellen winced immediately, realizing his mistake.

"No—I mean—" He stumbled over his words, his hand still resting on her shoulder.

"Not expect, exactly. But we can't rule it out."

"Oh, that's so much better," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"A dungeon alone," he pressed on, clearly deciding that explaining would somehow help, "may cause a moment of unrest, but it can truly only escalate if monsters and beasts are involved. If they're emboldened by the dungeon to level." He paused, his expression growing more serious.

"Which means killing things." The words hung in the air between them.

"Killing things," she repeated slowly.

"Ideally not," he said quickly.

"That's why we have the heavy hitter. And guards. And an entire team of trained professionals who deal with this kind of situation."

"This kind of situation," she echoed flatly.

"You mean dungeons appearing in the middle of cities? That kind of situation?" He had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Well, no. This is... relatively unprecedented."" Relatively," she muttered. She let her head fall back against the wall, mirroring his earlier gesture.

"I hate everything about this."

"That's fair," he admitted.

"I do too." They sat in silence for a moment, both staring at the opposite wall. The notification still hovered in her vision.

"So we just wait," she said finally.

"Wait for them to find the cube and bring it here. Then, I fiddle with it until the dungeon closes. Again."

"That's the plan," he confirmed.

"Brilliant plan," she said without enthusiasm.

"Really inspired." Rellen's lips twitched.

"Your sarcasm is noted."

"Good," Tessa said. Rellen actually smiled at that. After a moment, a sharp knock came from the door. Tessa's head jerked toward the sound, her heart rate spiking again. Rellen tensed beside her, his hand moving instinctively toward his side. The door opened, and the rogue who had led Tessa here earlier stepped inside.

"There's been a change of plans," she said without preamble.

"We're moving. Now." Rellen stood immediately, the blanket sliding off his lap. He held out a hand to Tessa, his grip firm when she took it. She let him pull her.

"Lead the way," he said. The rogue nodded and turned, disappearing back through the doorway. Rellen followed, still holding her hand, and she found herself grateful for the contact. The rogue led them deeper into the sewers. Tessa kept hold of Rellen's hand, her bare feet slapping against the damp stone.

"There's been some suspicious movement in the sewers," the rogue said over her shoulder, her voice low.

"We were ordered to move now instead of sitting and waiting."

"Acknowledged," he replied. They continued on, the pace somewhere between a fast walk and a jog. Tessa's breath came harder, her legs protesting the sudden exertion after sitting for so long. The tunnels twisted and branched, but the rogue never hesitated, taking turns with ease. After several minutes—though it felt like longer—the rogue raised a hand. Rellen stopped immediately, and Tessa nearly crashed into his back. His hand tightened around hers, a silent warning to stay quiet and still.

"Someone's standing ahead," the rogue whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Someone strong." Before Tessa could process what that meant, the rogue moved. She pressed herself against the wall, and then—right before Tessa's eyes—she disappeared. Not through a door or around a corner, but simply vanished, as if the shadows themselves had absorbed her. Tessa's mouth fell open in shock, but she managed to keep quiet. Questions burned in her throat, but this clearly wasn't the time. Several moments passed in tense silence.

She could hear her own heartbeat, Rellen's steady breathing beside her, and the distant drip of water somewhere in the tunnels. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Then—a sharp, ringing sound. Metal striking stone.

"Oh," a voice said, flat and almost monotone but distinctly feminine.

"It's a little shadow. Apologies." The rogue's melodious voice followed, sounding slightly breathless.

"Apologies accepted. I should have known better than to conceal myself and get this close." Rellen's entire body relaxed, and he let out a quiet breath. He started forward, deliberately making his footsteps echo in the tunnel—announcing his presence.

"It's me," he called out, his voice carrying through the darkness.

"Stand down." Tessa followed, still holding his hand, her heart still racing. Whoever had just nearly killed their rogue was apparently someone Rellen knew. As they got closer, she could make out the figure standing in the tunnel ahead. It was a woman who looked to be in her twenties. A longsword rested in her right hand, the blade still partially extended from where it had struck the stone. A buckler was strapped to her left arm, compact and well-positioned for quick defense.

Tessa's eyes immediately went to the woman's gear, and despite everything—the dungeon, the danger, that this woman had nearly skewered their rogue, she felt a familiar thrill of appreciation. The armor was exceptional. She wore a form-fitting breastplate in shades of grey; the metal worked with subtle elegance rather than ostentatious decoration. The pauldrons were asymmetrical—the right shoulder piece larger and more protective, clearly designed for someone who favored sword work.

Beneath the breastplate, she wore what looked like a reinforced dress or battle skirt in complementary earth tones, the fabric split for mobility, revealing armored greaves that protected her legs. Leather straps and buckles secured everything with precise functionality, and a flowing half-cape in muted grey draped from her left shoulder, probably to help with the buckler's movement. Everything about the armor spoke of quality and experience.

The metal showed the telltale signs of use—minor scratches, slight discoloration from repeated repairs—but it had been superbly maintained. Each piece fit together with the kind of precision that came from either master craftsmanship or long familiarity, probably both. This wasn't parade armor or decorative pieces. This was gear that had seen real combat and been lovingly cared for afterward. She mentally cataloged the details, her inner craftsperson geeking out.

The way the pauldron articulated, the reinforcement patterns on the greaves, the balance of protection versus mobility—it was all perfect. Then she noticed the woman's hair, light grey, long and wavy, falling freely around her shoulders and down her back. It should have looked impractical for combat, but somehow it just added to the overall impression of controlled lethality. Almost as an afterthought, she activated Inspect. [Warrior - Level???] No surprise there.

The woman was clearly far beyond her ability to assess properly. The question marks alone told her everything she needed to know. Could this be the "heavy hitter" Rellen had mentioned? She swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of her own bare feet, simple tunic, and complete lack of anything resembling proper equipment. The warrior's eyes—a pale, almost colorless grey—shifted to regard her. There was no hostility in that gaze, but no particular warmth either. Just assessment. Tessa felt very, very small.

Rellen, seemingly oblivious to her nervous paralysis, pulled her along as he stepped forward to greet the warrior.

"Mariane," he said.

"I thought you'd be on the surface." The warrior—Mariane—shifted her stance slightly, the longsword lowering but not sheathing.

"We've rounded up the agents we could find on top," she said, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Hints suggest that they've been using the sewers. So I'm here now, looking for stragglers and the missing artifact." She paused, and something almost like disapproval crept into her flat voice.

"It was a mistake to hide in the sewers. This may be more dangerous than you thought." Rellen sighed, his jaw tightening with visible frustration.

"I see." Mariane simply nodded, the acknowledgment brief. Then her attention shifted to Tessa once again.

"You're the girl who knows how to close the dungeon," Mariane stated. Not a question. Tessa wanted to protest being called a girl —she was nineteen, thank you very much—but the words died in her throat under that penetrating gaze. Instead, she just nodded mutely. Mariane seemed satisfied with that.

"Good." She straightened slightly, and her expression shifted to something almost formal.

"I am Mariane Blackwood. Heir of House Blackwood. Stay close to me, and you will be safe." The world tilted. Tessa felt the blood drain from her face. Her knees went weak, and only Rellen's grip on her hand kept her upright. Blackwood. House Blackwood. One of the most prominent families in the Empire. The Blackwoods held a viceroy title, governing an entire region with authority second only to the Emperor himself. But that wasn't even the most terrifying part.

The Matriarch of House Blackwood was one of the Pillars of the Empire —one of the legendary monsters who stood at the absolute peak of power. The strongest of the strong. And this woman—this heir standing before her in the sewers—was part of that family. The Blackwoods specialized in gravity magic; her racing mind supplied unhelpfully. They could control any battlefield, whether on the ground or in the air.

Stories spoke of Blackwood mages pinning entire armies in place, or launching enemies into the sky only to let them fall. They were tacticians, warriors, and wielders of magic so potent it defied conventional combat entirely. And Mariane had just introduced herself to Tessa. Knew her face. Probably knew her name.

"I—" Tessa's voice came out as a strangled whisper. She tried to swallow, to find words, to do literally anything other than stand there like a gasping fish.

"I'm... Tessa." It was the most pathetic introduction imaginable, but it was all she could manage. Mariane's expression didn't change.

"I know," she said simply. Of course she knew. Of course the heir to House Blackwood had been briefed on the nobody adventurer who kept stumbling into dungeons. Tessa wanted to sink through the floor. Or possibly run screaming back the way they'd come. Rellen squeezed her hand—reassurance, or possibly a warning not to faint.

"Tessa's been invaluable," Rellen said, his voice taking on a diplomatic quality.

"She has been fully cooperative with our investigation."

"Good," Mariane repeated. She finally sheathed her longsword.

"Then let's move." She turned, clearly expecting them to follow. Tessa's legs moved on autopilot, her hand still clutched in Rellen's. Her mind was a mess. A Blackwood. She was being escorted by a Blackwood. Her life had spiraled completely out of control.

"I have a question," Tessa said carefully, finding her voice despite her nervousness.

"Why aren't we heading back and going to the surface? Didn't you say you found everyone you could up top?" The warrior glanced back over her shoulder, her pale eyes meeting Tessa's.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Which is why we're staying in the sewers." The logic of that statement escaped Tessa entirely.

"This is more dangerous," Mariane continued, turning forward again as she navigated a junction in the tunnel.

"But I am the most dangerous one here. So you're safe. Now, this invasion has become a cat-and-mouse game." She paused, and something that might have been satisfaction flickered across her features.

"With me being the cat." Tessa said nothing else. What could she say? That she'd prefer the safety of the surface? That she didn't want to be involved in whatever Mariane was hoping to encounter? They kept walking; the tunnels growing marginally cleaner, the architecture more modern. The stone gave way to worked brick, and occasional drainage grates overhead let in thin shafts of light. Rellen's head lifted slightly, his expression shifting to recognition.

"We're near the Academy," he observed, his voice careful.

"Yes," Mariane said.

"That's our goal." Rellen's grip on Tessa's hand tightened.

"That wasn't the plan."

"Plans have changed," she replied simply, not slowing her pace. Rellen sighed, a long, heavy sound that spoke of frustration and resignation in equal measure. His free hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Of course they have," he muttered. Tessa looked between them, questions piling up in her mind. The Academy—that meant the Imperial Academy, the premier institution for training the next generation. One of the most heavily guarded locations in the entire capital. Their rogue reappeared from the shadows ahead, materializing beside Mariane. She spoke in low tones, too quiet for Tessa to hear, but Mariane nodded in response.

"Understood," Mariane said.

"Continue scouting ahead. Report anything unusual." The rogue vanished again, melting back into the darkness as if she'd never been there at all. A thump echoed through the tunnels, coming from somewhere below them. The sound traveled through brick and stone, making the walls vibrate slightly. Tessa's hand clamped down on Rellen's, her fingers digging in hard enough that it probably hurt. He didn't complain. His own expression had gone tense. Mariane, by contrast, looked excited.

Her head snapped toward the sound, and something almost like a smile touched her lips.

"Finally," she said, her flat tone gaining the barest hint of energy. Without waiting for a response, she turned sharply and headed down a different passage, one that led downward, deeper into the sewers. Away from the Academy. Away from anything that might be considered safe. Rellen didn't move. His feet remained planted, his jaw working as he stared after the Blackwood heir. Mariane glanced back, noting their hesitation.

"Come," she said, her voice carrying clear authority.

"You're safest near me. Even in the face of danger." She didn't wait for acknowledgment. Didn't wait to see if they'd follow. She simply turned and continued down the descending passage, her grey hair swaying, the sound of her armored boots growing fainter with each step. Rellen stood frozen, clearly weighing possibilities. His eyes darted between the passage Mariane had taken and the route they'd been following. Tessa could practically see him running calculations.

He looked down at her, something almost apologetic in his expression. A silent question: What do you think? Tessa's heart hammered in her chest. Another thump echoed from below, closer this time. Whatever was down there, it was moving. And Mariane was heading straight toward it.

"I trust your judgment," she said quietly, though her voice trembled slightly. It was true; she realized. Despite everything—the window throwing, the interrogation, the threats of execution—she trusted him. He'd kept her alive this far. He'd been honest with her, mostly. And right now, he seemed just as uncertain as she felt, which was oddly reassuring. He closed his eyes for a long moment, his breath evening out.

When he opened them again, something had settled in his expression, resolution, or maybe just resignation.

"Stay close," he said, then tugged her along after Mariane. They descended, following the Blackwood heir toward whatever was making those terrible, resonant thumps below. Tessa's bare feet found each step carefully, her free hand trailing along the damp wall. The temperature dropped as they went deeper. Beneath it all, she could feel it—that same wrongness she'd felt in the other dungeons. The sense that reality was stretched too thin here, that something other was bleeding through. Another thump. Closer still.

And ahead, Mariane walked toward it without hesitation, her hand resting casually on her sword hilt like she was taking an evening stroll rather than hunting whatever lurked in the depths. She stared at Mariane's back as they descended, watching the easy confidence in every step. That confidence—where did it come from? Was it age? Experience? Or maybe it was simply levels? She seemed so utterly certain she could best anything that might wait down there.

No hesitation, no second-guessing, just absolute conviction in her own capability. Tessa supposed that being an heir meant her level must be astronomical. Certainly higher than the rogue woman's, probably even higher than the imperial soldiers stationed throughout the capital. The Blackwood family had received many dungeon locations as rewards, if she remembered correctly from overheard conversations back in school.

The thought brought back memories of her classmates—the ones with combat classes—complaining enviously about noble privilege. Dungeons meant guaranteed experience, controlled leveling environments, and access to resources that common adventurers could only dream of. Many of those classmates had talked about applying as guards for a house holding a viceroy title. It had been a common dream, a path to stability and advancement.

But choosing the right house was crucial—the Emperor could strip away a Viceroy title at any time, and backing the wrong family could leave you stranded when political winds shifted. That was why Blackwood had always been a favorite choice. They'd held their position through multiple reigns, even during the previous Empress's rule. That kind of longevity spoke of power, competence, and imperial favor that ran deep. They were the safe choice.

But for most people—including Tessa's former classmates—it had just been a dream. The reality was that hundreds applied to work for families like the Blackwoods. The competition was fierce; the requirements steep. And here Tessa was, practically rubbing shoulders with the Blackwood heir herself. Not because she'd applied or worked her way up through the ranks, but because she'd stumbled into the wrong (or right?) place at the wrong (or right?) time. Twice.

Another thump resonated through the stone, and she felt it in her chest this time. Whatever was down there was getting closer, or they were getting closer to it. Mariane didn't even flinch. Didn't slow down or tense up. She just kept walking with the same infuriating confidence. Maybe when you were at that high level, they were just an inconvenience. Maybe when you came from a family of gravity mages who could flatten armies, a single monster—or even several—barely registered as a concern.

Tessa wished desperately that she could borrow even a fraction of that confidence. Instead, she just gripped Rellen's hand tighter and tried not to think about all the ways this could go horribly wrong.