A Drow Goddess? Still hopeful, I rummaged through the Altar menu only to confirm that the Dark Temple of the Original City had regained its patron deity. Ruata, you stupid woman, what was that now? How on earth could you have done the dirty on me?
I was like a taut string, unable to restrain my anger. What a cheek! Who did they all think they were? When I needed them to help me restore the First Temple and sort out the problems it had created—no one seemed to be interested. They were all too busy lining up for the freebies! Not just lining up—they were taking the place apart, pilfering everything that wasn't screwed down! Destroying valuable ammunition, stashing away mithril and gobbling it down, even denying me my right to summon a patron god! The Temple's High Priestess was the only person who could have done it, and that's exactly what she did, jumping at her chance. Everyone was busy tugging the blanket while I was alone lying here freezing my butt off.
Sorry, guys. This isn't the way the cookie crumbles. I'd do whatever it takes—excommunicate, anathemize, disembody whoever deserved it.
I found myself running on the cobbled pavement not really looking where I was going, colliding with unhurried players or ducking out of their way. They shouted at my back something about those Elven tykes who should all be put up against the castle wall or hanged on lampposts. I only smirked. Yeah, no foreigners allowed, wonder where I'd heard that before? Sorry, guys, bad timing, duels would have to wait.
Finally I reached the massive wall of the House of Night residence. The guards were respectful but unyielding. "You'll have to wait to be taken inside." For five minutes I paced the yard by the front door, working myself up and getting more and more agitated. Finally the majordomo, unhurried and majestic like the Queen, invited me to follow him. I was running rings around the well-fed NPC, struggling to refrain from goading him on with a hearty kick in the butt. The only thing that stopped me was the thought that the guards would interpret such an action as a direct assault, resulting in my respawning a few seconds later in the Vets' portal hall. So I had to grin and bear it, notching up interest on the bill I was about to present Ruata with.
After fifteen more minutes of marching through a series of opulent halls I was already almost sure they'd been walking me in circles. Then the majordomo finally swung open another pair of doors and stepped aside, allowing me to enter.
Yet another luxurious hall, its thirty-foot ceilings heavy with stucco and frescoes depicting the Drow's exploits. A soft 'the Princess will see you shortly' followed by the inconspicuous sound of the closing doors made me swing round. He'd legged it, the bastard. Very well, I could wait. Ignoring the soft couch and the side table laden with delicacies, I began pacing the hall making the guards of honor by the doors jump to attention every time I went past them.
The hall was sixty paces long and forty wide. Just when I started thinking I'd already worn a groove in the marble floors, the world shuddered again.
Boom! The guards bowed deep as the inner interface flooded me with messages,
Quest completion alert: The Prince of the House of Night. Quest completed!
Reward: a new social status, The Prince of the House of Night.
Congratulations! You've received Achievement: you've become the third person in AlterWorld to occupy a Prince's throne.
Reward: +10,000 to Fame
Congratulations! Your family status has been updated! Princess Ruata has become your wife!
Holy cow. That wasn't the agreement! What was that about the Prince? And his spouse? Didn't I have to make another 100 levels for a successful completion?
I opened my quest logs and looked for the record I needed,
Level above that of Princess Ruata (current leveclass="underline" 71) (met)
Gosh. How had she managed to drop a hundred levels? Taali would kill me and she'd be right. Why would I need this stupid princedom, what for? To be perfectly honest, I'd already bitten way more than I could chew. I was looking at at least another couple of years of simply gaining experience in running my own clan and the castle. All I needed now was a couple of thousand Drow and all the problems they could bring.
Having said that... I cast a patronly glance over the surrounding splendor and the guards with their doglike expression. What was it Ruata had said? A hundred fifty cutthroats and three hundred guards? Yeah, right—I gently shut my inner greedy pig's dropped jaw—plus a whole shedload of other people's problems. Including a marriage I couldn't care less about. Sure, Ruata was fire and ice incarnate, the peak of passion and beauty, totally mind-blowing, forcing you to think with completely different body parts. Still, finding myself licking someone's feet, looking up in devotion waiting for their command to fetch their slippers—that was something I really didn't look forward to.
I shook my head and pursed my lips, thus hitting the right note for my upcoming exchange with the Princess. With a decisive step I approached the bowing guard. "Take me to the Princess, now!"
"Yes, Sir!"
That's better. For the next five minutes we kept winding and unwinding down the stairs, descending deeper and deeper into the bowels of the residence's dungeons. The number of guards at intersections grew, pointing at our approaching an especially guarded object. Finally we arrived at an old archway of black marble intricately carved with archaic pictograms of a long forgotten tongue.
The guard pointedly stepped aside and saluted, making clear his mission was completed. Very well. I could manage on my own now.
In centuries past, countless feet had trodden a groove in the eighty-eight ancient stone steps that led me to an enormous hall, its size concealed by the True Darkness. A barely noticeable walkway was marked by braziers filled with smoldering embers and crimson sparks. It led to the iridescent soap bubble of a magic dome.
I stepped onto the walkway. It crunched and rattled underfoot. This wasn't the right time to enjoy the divine Darkness, so I rummaged through my bag in search of the Torch of True Flame. Yanking it out, I activated a third of its power and recoiled. The entire floor was littered with bones and ancient weapons. Crossbow bolts that sat deep in crumbling skulls, chestplates that spilled loose ribs, helmets crushed by powerful blows and shields smashed into pulp. It appeared to be the remains of a great battle that had once raged under the Temple's walls. The defenders and attackers lay randomly on top of each other, their bodies piled high in some places. The flesh had long been reduced to ashes and the smell had worn off; there was nothing left but bones and steel.
And artifact jewelry, my inner greedy pig pointed out, spying the glimmer of bejeweled rings on a skeleton's fingers that were still clutching an expensive-looking sword. The ruby in its hilt was enormous. True, there was plenty of loot here but we weren't grave robbers, were we? Still I crouched over the body and lowered the torch wishing to read the stats. I didn't want to miss something epic, something lost in the dust of time, capable of moving mountains and shaking the earth.
I brought my face closer, then recoiled. The skull stirred and swayed. A huge hairy spider forced its fat belly out through an eye socket. His beady lavender eyes stared at me with hatred as he waggled his mandibles, a little drop of cloudy yellow venom forming on them. No, thank you very much. Could never stand those eight-legged creepies. I spat in his direction and barely dodged when he spat back, the venom missing me and landing on a massive siege shield that almost covered a dwarf's skeleton. The metal spumed and smoked with corrosion. Ignoring my pride—no one could see me, anyway—I darted out of the creature's range.